“And all those clues told you that I had a date?” I asked, smiling until I spotted a frown pulling at her lips.
“Could’ve been a funeral too. You wore those shoes to church.” Her voice was a quiet whisper as she dropped her chin to her chest.
As usual, my niece was an observant little girl. I’d worn those shoes the day we’d said goodbye to her mother and she’d officially come to live with me. She had always been on the shy and quiet side but took in every single thing around her. She’d even picked up on the tension in my embrace when she’d hugged me goodbye as I’d stressed over possibly seeing Emily later that night.
“No funerals or dates, kiddo. Just a long, boring night in a dining hall and dessert with an old friend after.”
“Was dessert fun?” She perked up and leaned forward. “Where did you go?”
Her innocent question jabbed me in the chest. Dessert with my friend had been the most important part of the entire night, because it was the one part of the evening I couldn’t stop thinking about.
“It was. We went to the diner for coffee and a piece of cake.” I tried to sound flippant and casual, mostly for my own denial. My ex-girlfriend living rent-free in my brain, along with the feel of her lips on my cheek, had at least distracted me from the usual knots in my stomach today.
“I love diner cake.” Her brown eyes lit up as a smile bloomed on her face. “And diner pancakes.”
“Yes, I know you’re a big diner fan,” I said, forcing an easy smile as I pulled into the medical office’s parking lot for Maddie’s therapist. “Maybe we can stop there on the way back?”
I both dreaded and looked forward to this appointment. Her pediatrician had suggested therapy to help her grieve and adjust to all the changes in her life, and I’d gladly agreed, grabbing all the assistance we could get.
We’d done the best we could to prepare her, but we were all going through our own stages of denial and, later, mourning. Losing someone so important and upending life as we all knew it was a huge struggle for our entire family.
Maddie had been opening up more and more, but it would come in short spurts, like recognizing the shoes I wore to her mother’s funeral or one heartbreaking night a couple of weeks ago when she’d asked how long I was going to let her stay with me. I’d told her that I wanted her to stay forever, but I had no way of knowing if that was the reassurance she’d needed or if it had made her feel worse.
My sister becoming a single mother at twenty had been a shock to all of us, but we’d all fallen hard and fast for her daughter. I’d had the easiest relationship with this kid from the day she was born, with nothing but love and fun between us.
All the love was still there, but the fun wasn’t so easy now that the dynamic had changed. With Maddie’s father out of the picture before she had even been born, Tessa had asked me to be Maddie’s guardian “just in case.” When just in case became a reality rather than an unlikely possibility, my sister had still insisted she wanted her daughter with me.
We were ten years apart, and while we’d argued at times, we had never been at each other’s throats like my friends and their siblings. My parents used to joke that Tessa thought I’d hungthe moon and would fight anyone who said otherwise, and my favorite part of coming home after school was hearing her squeal my name before she’d rush toward me.
I’d never refused my sister anything, in life or…now. But I’d never been so terrified of letting her down.
Going from uncle to full-time parent was the biggest adjustment of my life, but I did everything I could to make our new condo a home for Maddie. As comfortable as I tried to make her feel, I knew there were things she couldn’t talk to me about—at least not yet.
“Who is this lady I have to talk to?” Maddie asked as I pulled my truck into a spot.
“She’s a doctor.” I unbuckled my seat belt and shifted to face her.
“Yeah, that’s what Grams said. But I’m not sick.” She rested her head against the inside of the car door.
I was very lucky that this therapist saw patients on Saturday mornings. I wouldn’t have to worry about taking off from work or pulling her out of school if we made this a regular thing. Therapy would simply be another part of our weekend routine of holding it together—or doing our best to act like it.
“No, she’s not that kind of a doctor. She’s a doctor for feelings. All you have to do is tell her anything that pops into your head.”
She tapped her lips with her finger as if she was mulling it over. A smile broke out across my lips when she nodded.
Anytime I thought I’d gotten through to my niece, even a little bit, equal parts of exhilaration and relief would course through me. My parents kept stressing to take baby steps, but I’d take the slightest pull in the right direction as a tiny victory.
“Okay. I’ll talk to the doctor.”
I stepped out of the car and made my way to the back seat to open her door. She wrapped her arms around my waist after sheclimbed out and peered up at me, her brown eyes fixed on mine as she gave me a hopeful smile. “I’ll try to do a good job, Uncle Jesse.”
I shook my head, forcing out a laugh to hold in the sob in the back of my throat that wanted to break free.
“Don’t worry about doing a good job. Just tell her the truth, whatever it is. I’m already proud of you for being brave enough to speak to someone new.” I bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay?”
She whispered anokayback and grabbed my hand. We ambled through the parking lot toward the entrance in silence.
I’m trying here, Tessa. I’m really, really trying.
