“So, do you like your daycare?” I asked, wanting to start building a relationship with my niece.
She nodded, causing her blonde curls to bounce.
“Yes. It’s fun,” she said, a piece of scrambled eggs falling from her mouth and back onto her plate. She didn’t even notice as she continued to talk. “We play games, have snacks, color…”
“That does sound fun.”
“You work with Daddy?”
I shook my head. “No, I go to school. And now it’s my job to watch you,” I answered, watching her as she ate. She reminded me so much of my sister. Not just the color of her hair or the shape of her eyes. It was in the way she moved, in the sound of her giggle, somehow, she even smelled similar to my sister,a scent that hits you when you hug someone close. It wasn’t shampoo or perfume. It’s just the smell that’s naturally on them.
“Do you know who I am?”
She looked at me with a frown, painting her features. “I don’t remember your name,” she confessed.
I laughed. “That’s okay. My name is Sasha, and I’m your aunt.”
Her brows lifted, and her eyes widened. “My aunt?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“What’s an aunt?”
“That means that your mommy was my sister. We grew up together.”
“My mommy?”
I nodded. “You look just like her.”
She jumped down from her chair, took my hand, and started pulling me toward the living room.
“Where are we going?”
She stopped at the fireplace and pointed up at the framed picture on the edge. It was a picture of my sister. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was. All alone on a mantle.
“Mommy.”
I smiled and nodded. “That’s right. That’s your mommy and my sister.”
She smiled. “We play now?”
She tried pulling me toward her room, but I picked her up and carried her back to the kitchen.
“We’ll play later. Right now, you need to eat breakfast so I can take you to daycare.” I placed her in the chair, and she immediately resumed eating.
After droppingher off at daycare, I returned home to start unpacking my belongings. I got everything unpacked and put away. I even had time to fit in a nap before lunch. When I woke up, I decided to give myself a little tour of the place.
I wandered around the upper level, finding another bathroom, a library, and two more guest bedrooms. When I rounded the back corner, I found a small set of steps leading to another door. I placed my hand on the knob and pushed the door open to see what was behind it. The room was dark, so I couldn’t see inside, but I knew from the smell of the air that I’d just stumbled into Roman’s bedroom.
I flipped on the light, and sure enough, his big, unmade king-size bed was in the center of the room. There were matching bedside tables on either side, each with an identical lamp. A dresser was against the wall. A handwritten note was on the mirror over the dresser, in what looked like a dry-erase marker. It was in her curvy handwriting, and it read:Be thankful for what we still have, rather than being bitter about what we lost.
It was definitely Chloe’s handwriting.
I smiled as I read the message, remembering how she always wrote inspirational things on her notebooks, folders, and in random spots around her room. Tears burned my eyes in the next second because I’d completely forgotten that she’d do that. The longer she was gone, the more I forgot, and the harder it was to remember. It was stuff that I didn’t even realize I’d forgotten, like the sound of her voice. I used to be able to hear it as if she were right next to me. It was that moment that I realized Icouldn’t do that anymore. I could remember things she said, but I couldn’t hear her say it.
I turned away from the dresser and looked into the attached bathroom. The floor was covered in clothes and towels. Remembering I was in charge of the laundry, I took a deep breath and pushed myself forward to collect it. It was a good excuse for entering a room I knew I had no business being in. Knowing him, he probably had cameras recording every inch of the house, and I knew he’d jump down my throat later if he saw I went into his room just because I was nosy.
My cell rang, and I pulled it out of my back pocket as I gathered up the items on the floor.
