Margot helped with Bella’s bedroom. Margot brings her books. Margot calls him “Rick”. My throat tightens. How many other parts of my daughter’s life do I know nothing about?
“Everyone inside before we all turn into popsicles,” Gina calls from the doorway, saving me from having to respond. “Margot, Jake, come warm up. There’s hot chocolate.”
“You had me at hot chocolate,” Margot says, heading toward the front door.
Inside, Margot shrugs out of her snow gear, revealing leggings and a knitted sweater that has tiny embroidered Christmas trees on it. She knows exactly where the coat closet is.
Of course she does. She’s probably been here and at his house dozens of times before.
“You’re dripping snow all over Gina’s floor,” Enrick says, grabbing a towel and tossing it at Margot’s feet.
“Then you should’ve shoveled your driveway so I could’ve left these at your place like a normal person,” Margot shoots back, but she steps onto the towel. “How was I supposed to know you’d abandon your house?”
“It’s called family time, Margot. You should try it sometime.”
“I am. Right now. With my favorite five-year-old.” Margot grins at Bella. “Speaking of which, where are these famous cookies I’ve been hearing about?”
The kids crowd around her. Penny asking about her henna tattoos, Mycah chattering about snowmobiles and Bella asking about her presents.
Because to them, she is probably family.
“Uncle Enrick’s snowman fell over!” Asher announces gleefully.
“Of course it did,” Margot says, her eyes dancing. “Your uncle has many talents, but snowman construction isn’t one of them. Remember the Christmas he tried to build one at the old house and it ended up looking like a melted marshmallow?”
“It was windy that day too,” Enrick protests.
“It wasn’t windy. You’re just bad at snowmen.” Margot catches my eye. “He didn’t tell you about that, did he? The Great Snowman Disaster of 2023?”
“No,” I manage. “He didn’t.”
Jealously twists in my chest. I should have known these stories about him. I should have been there.
I never asked about his friends. Never asked Bella about the people in her father’s life. Our interactions were all filtered through Patricia and lawyers.
They banter back and forth, finish each other’s sentences, and trade insults that are clearly affectionate. There’s no awkwardness in Enrick’s demeanor, no guilt. Why, then, am I green with envy?
“I should check on the cookies,” I say, already backing toward the kitchen. “Make sure everything’s ready for Santa.”
I don’t look at Enrick as I leave, but I feel his eyes on me.
“They’re frosted already,” Gina says. “But I could use help to put things away.”
I seize the escape route gratefully. “Of course.”
Behind me, I hear Bella chattering: “Margot, you gotta see my snowman cookie! I made it all by myself! Well, Mommy and Daddy helped, but mostly me!”
Mommy and Daddy. Together. Like we were a family.
Except Enrick apparently has a whole other life I know nothing about. A female best friend who’s woven into my daughter’s world while I’ve been in Atlanta.
In the kitchen, Gina hands me a dish towel without comment. Through the doorway, I can see Margot crouching down to Bella’s level, examining the cookie with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Margot’s effortlessly beautiful. Her dark hair falls in perfect waves, and when she laughs at something Bella says, even her laugh sounds musical.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gina murmurs. “But he sees her only as a friend.”
“It’s fine,” I say, scrubbing at the counter. “It’s not like I have any right to be possessive.”
