The darkness I keep catching glimpses of flickers across Avah’s face again, but it’s gone before I can pin it down.
Satisfied that she’s given each of us the perfect pinecone, Ellie toddles over to me and climbs into my lap. She smells like sunscreen and graham crackers, and as she burrows against my chest, her thumb finds its way to her mouth. She settles in, letting out a sigh that holds so much trust, it makes my throat go tight.
“Aww,” Sloane says softly. “Look at you two.”
“You look good with Felix’s kid in your lap,” Avah adds, none of her usual sarcasm in the observation.
The words hit me harder than they should. Ellie isn’t Felix’s—not really. And neither am I. We’re both just temporary pieces in a life he’s still trying to decide if he wants.
I want him to choose both of us.
The realization crashes over me with the force of a dam breaking, flooding every inch of me with need. I want to be his. For the three of us—eventually four—to be a family. Sure, it’s messy and complicated and nothing like what I planned, but it would belong to me. I want more mornings of waking up to the scent of sourdough and more nights of Felix memorizing every inch of my body.
Most of all, I want to stop pretending this arrangement istemporary when everything in me is screaming that it should be permanent.
“I should head home to get her down for a nap.” I clear my throat when the words come out rough. “It’s past her usual time.”
As if they’re somehow attuned to my inner turmoil, my friends gather the remains of our picnic while I hold Ellie, who’s already growing heavy-lidded against my shoulder.
“Do you want a ride back to the bookstore?” I ask Sloane as she hands me the folded blanket.
“I’ll walk. It’s only a few blocks.”
I give her a one-armed hug, mindful of Ellie. “Thanks for being up for an impromptu picnic. I needed this.”
“Any time, Pip.” She waves as she heads toward Main Street, leaving Avah and me to walk toward the parking lot.
Ellie startles awake when a car horn sounds, then reaches for Avah with both arms. “Ava up!”
“Oh, aren’t I the lucky one,” Avah says as she settles the toddler on her hip with surprising ease. “I thought you only had eyes for Piper.”
“She’s an equal opportunity cuddler.”
“That’s a good quality in an ankle biter.”
We cross the park toward where our cars are parked in the small lot beside Town Hall. The afternoon heat shimmers off the pavement, and Avah looks visibly uncomfortable in her long-sleeve sweater.
“I need to get back into the central air.” She shifts Ellie to her other hip. “It’s too darn hot.”
Concern prickles at the base of my skull. “Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing a turtleneck in the middle of summer in Colorado.”
“Fashion doesn’t care about weather,” she says lightly, but there’s an edge to her voice.
We reach my Jeep, and Ellie pats Avah’s cheeks while I dig in the diaper bag for my keys.
“Found them,” I say just as the toddler reaches up and tugs at the collar of Avah’s turtleneck.
The fabric pulls down before Avah catches the girl’s hands, revealing a dark purple bruise on her neck. It’s not a hickey. I’ve seen enough of those over the years to know the difference. Her skin is marred by finger-shaped marks that make my stomach drop.
Avah yanks up the collar and deposits Ellie into my arms with more force than necessary.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“It’s nothing.” She focuses on fishing her keys from her purse.
“That bruise isn’t nothing, Avs.” I place a hand on her arm and step in front of her, forcing her to meet my gaze. “It looks like someone strangled you.”
She barks out a brittle laugh. “Geez, Piper. Dramatic much?” She pulls away from me and inclines her head toward Ellie. “Might want to earmuff the kid.”
