A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with a reply from Charlie:
Everything okay?
I stare at the screen longer than I should before typing back:
Yeah. Not a good idae right now. We’ll talk later.
Right then, a car door slams. Erin’s here with Sophie. I open the front door and she bursts inside, singing and grinning.
“Glad someone had a good day,” I murmur.
She dumps her backpack and heads for the kitchen.
“I’m making hot chocolate. Want one?”
“Why not,” I say. “I’ll take one.”
We drink our hot chocolate and watch some rom-com she picks, and for a while, I let myself get distracted.
I finally check my phone before bed. No new reply from Charlie. Just the read receipt staring back at me.
I tell myself it’s for the best. She has to go back to being my PT.
Nothing more.
Sunday morning, and there’s still no reply from Charlie.
At the kitchen table, Sophie’s already hunched over a sheet of paper, pencil tapping against it. “Dad, can you look at this list with me?”
I limp over, ice pack in hand. “What list?”
“For the musical.” She slides it across. It’s a jumble of doodles and bullet points: dress, hair pins, lip gloss, shoes.
“Mr. Kenner says we all have to be performance ready by mid-May, so we can practice with the lights. I can’t believe it’s already the end of April.”
She’s practically glowing, rattling off details faster than I can keep up. I strap the ice around my knee, half-listening, half-staring at the phone still sitting face-down on the counter.
She looks up at me. “Mom said she’d help me with the makeup part. I’ve already texted her a couple times this week, but she hasn’t answered yet. Should I try again?”
My jaw tightens at Vanessa’s name. I force a smile. “Yeah, kiddo. Can’t hurt.”
She brightens instantly, thumbing out a message. I lean back, the cold burning into my knee while she beams at her screen. I should be happy she’s excited. But all I can think is how much she deserves someone who shows up.
And how I’m doing the same thing to Charlie.
For once, Vanessa actually replies—promising she’ll “drop it off real quick. I’m in town.”
A couple hours later, I’m on the couch icing my knee when a horn chirps outside. Sophie bolts for the door, already smiling, and I grab my crutches and hobble behind her.
Vanessa pulls up in her SUV, all smiles, oversized sunglasses perched like she’s headed to a photoshoot. Blonde hair glossy, makeup done, nails clicking against the steering wheel as she extends a shopping bag toward Sophie.
“Hey, Soph! Here’s the lip gloss! Isn’t this shade perfect for stage lights? I had to hit three places to find it, but it’s the best.”
Sophie beams, tugging the lip gloss out and clutching it to her chest.
“Thanks, Mom!”
Vanessa leans across the seat, phone already in her hand. “Wait, let’s get a quick picture.”
