I told myself I was relieved.
She came running into my room at six in the morning, having been up for an hour already, smelling of sugar and strawberry shampoo, demanding I get up because she wasfive,and her father said she couldn’t open presents until I woke up.
Her father was at the griddle, making French toast when I emerged, holding Clara’s small hand as she dragged me in.
Clara pointed at every decoration in wonder, my heart swelling at her happiness and joy, even amongst the strange clench in my womb and the prickle of my lips upon seeing Beau’s back. We were standing in the very place where we’d almost kissed last night.
Almost kisses didn’t count, though, did they? Didn’t mean anything.
Clara demanded my attention as I stared at Beau’s back, willing him to look at me, even though I was terrified of what I’d see in his eyes.
“You got me all of these?” Clara gaped in amazement at the gifts on the table.
I hummed in confirmation, my heart still galloping, my body heavy from lack of sleep. Who could sleep in the same house as the man she thought she hated yet actually desired?
“Thank you so much, Hannah Banana!” Clara threw her arms around me, squeezing me tight.
I squeezed her back, focusing on the birthday girl. Her happiness made every cent I spent worth it.
Then came the chaos of playing with her gifts. Beau had gotten her a state-of-the-art telescope that looked like it could’ve been in the house of a professional astronomer. Clara made him put a countdown on his phone until it was dark so she could use it. She marveled at every small gift I gave her, showing her father, who focused on them with rapt attention She poured over the book I gave her, demanding we go show her fairies the gifts.
There were party preparations, outfit choices to be made. Clara was delighted with her fairy wings, deciding to pair them with a Grateful Dead T-shirt, a purple tutu, and combat boots.
I never had a moment alone with Beau. I tried to catch his eye, recapture the warmth of last night, but he made a concerted effort to not look at me, all of his focus going to his daughter. And when he did need to speak to me, it was in the same clipped, cold tone that it had been the past few months.
The man from last night was gone.
I carried the pain of that through the day, cursing myself for hoping, for believing something could be different. I pasted a smile on my face.
Because it was Clara’s day.
And I’d be damned if I didn’t help preserve a little girl’s belief that the world was a magical place.
Even if, for me, it was full of pain and disappointment.
As it happened, more than thirteen people came to the party. It was a large number of potentially infectious people, which made Beau’s expression tight with worry. I’d seen him in the corner, phone glued to his ear. I presumed it was Clara’s doctor, because although his posture was rigid, defensive, he didn’t look like he was clutching the phone hard enough to crack it, nor did he kick anyone out.
He did, however, brief people upon their arrival of the precautions to take to preserve Clara’s health, quizzing them on whether they’d had any illnesses in the past week and inquiring into their vaccination history.
All attendees took this in stride. Most of them were already familiar with all of the protocols in place to keep Clara safe.
There was Clara’s grandfather, for starters. He’d been a constant visitor since the moment I moved in, doing whatever it took to keep Clara safe with a love shining in his eyes that made my chest hurt.
He was always warm to me, greeting me with a hug as if I were part of the family instead of the woman hired to watch his granddaughter. He looked me in the eyes, asked questions that were personal but not too probing, remembered small details about my life—the scant amount I gave him—and made an effort to include me in conversation.
Every time I saw him, I wondered how such a warm and affable man produced such an asshole. Especially when Beau’s brother was the diametric opposite.
Elliot was always smiling, warm, amiable. He was also hot as hell, and he’d only recently recovered from an accidentthat happened while he was working as a volunteer firefighter, injuries he sustained whileliterally saving a kitten.
A kitten who Clara was in love with and had me knit a sweater for. The kitten lived with Elliot’s girlfriend Calliope, but she brought it over for visits often.
I marveled over his girlfriend, who was a stunning badass and made me almost pee my pants when talking to her. Although Calliope was never anything but pleasant to me, she scared the crap out of me. She was so put together, so confident, like no one would ever best her, no man capable of hurting her. I idolized her while wondering if she noticed my cheap clothes or my lack of backbone and found me lacking.
Not that she betrayed those thoughts. Even though she was no-nonsense, swore like a sailor, and was scary as hell, she was kind to me. And Clara adored her. Even more after she bought her a pile of extremely expensive presents, including a pair of Gucci sneakers.
“Guccifucking sneakers?” Beau snapped at Calliope, surprising me by knowing what Gucci was. “That’s fucking insane.”
She didn’t so much as blink at Beau’s tone nor his curses, merely smiling. “Says you. I say a girl should get a designer pair of shoes for every birthday. Or every second Tuesday of the month, if she needs retail therapy. I’ll be ensuring she gets her share of that.”
