She nods enthusiastically and bounces a couple times in her chair. I wince and put my hands out to settle herdown.
“Aunt Britt?” sheasks.
“No.” I make a mental note to call Britt later.Hi, Claire broke her elbow and had surgery and the surgeon turned out to be the guy who fathered her. K,bye.
I attempt a nonchalant smile. “Dr. Cordova is going to stopby.”
Claire sends me a questioning look. Even her four-year-old brain finds it odd. Our pediatrician has never visited ourhouse.
I grab a book off the shelf and open it. It’s a Magic Treehouse chapter book, one we’ve read a dozen times, but Claire loves it. Soon she’s swept up in the story, and the swings and our impending visitor areforgotten.
We finish the book and start another. We finish that one, also, and one more. She hands me another, but I put it back on theshelf.
“I need a break. Mommy’s mouth is getting tired.” Besides, it’s time for the next dose of pain medicine, and Isaac will be heresoon.
She takes the medicine without a fuss and follows me to our bathroom. Claire sits on the toilet lid while I make myselfpresentable.
“Can I have lipsticktoo?”
“It’s lip balm. And yes, you can.” Her tiny hand reaches for the tin. I hand it to her, forgetting for a moment that she can’t do anything with it, thanks to her broken arm. Bending down next to her I take the tin, then hold it out so she can scoop a little balm on her finger and apply it. My breath catches in my throat when I watch her little hand work. Her mind is intelligent, her heart big, and her soul brave, but her finger istiny.
She finishes smearing the cherry lip balm on her lips and smiles at me proudly. Using my pinky, I rub off what’s beyond the lines of her lips and smile ather.
“Now I look just like you,” she announces, her smilewide.
And she does…sort of. But after seeing Isaac yesterday, it’s clear how much she resembleshim.
Leaving the bathroom, we settle in the living room and play Candy Land. Every few minutes, my gaze strays to theclock.
“I won again!” Claire yellsgleefully.
“How do you keep winning?” I ask, making a silly frown face. It’s possible I stack the deck in herfavor.
There’s a knock at the door, and my heart moves into my throat. I stand, wiping my hands on my jeans as I walk, and run them through my long hair. With shoulders squared, I pull open the frontdoor.
Oh, my heart… my poor, stupid, lonelyheart.
Isaac has his trademark smile ready. His white T-shirt looks soft. I like the way it spreads out over his chest, how it hugs his biceps. His pecs are big enough that it causes a ripple in the shirt, like a plateau that suddenly drops off. Don’t even get me started on the tan of his skin against the stark white of hisshirt.
“Aubrey?”
I finally look into his eyes, a blush warming my cheeks when I see the confusion inthem.
“Yes, hi, I’m sorry.” I stand aside to let him in. “Just nervous.”Is that what you want to callit?
“Me too,” he says, walking pastme.
His scent swirls in the air.Smoky wood and vanilla, mixed with something sweet.It makes my legs feel weak and wobbly. I make good use of the open door by leaning against it and turning my head to gulp the fresh air flowingin.
He has a fiancée. Rememberthat.
“Hi, Claire. How areyou?”
Isaac saying Claire’s name brings me back to reality. I close the door and hurry into the living room, where Isaac is folding himself into a cross-legged seat besideClaire.
“Hi, Dr. Cordova.” Claire smiles up at him, then resumes her gathering of all the Candy Land cards. She’s turning them all face up and then putting them in piles by color. It’s a process, especially one-handed, but she’sdetermined.
“You can call me Isaac, if you’d like.” He leans a cheek against a fisted hand and rests his elbow on his knee. The look on his face is unfathomable. I couldn’t describe it if I wantedto.
