She startles, then laughs quietly. “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you? I dropped a book and nearly died, thinking I woke Phoebe up.”
“No,” I say. “I was just—” I trail off, nodding toward the elf. “It’s November.”
She shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “Elsa usually arrives the day after Thanksgiving. But since we’re in a new place and tomorrow is a big day with the wedding and last-minute prep, I thought a day early wouldn’t hurt.”
She talks about our wedding like it’s an item to tick off a to-do list, and while it technically is, I don’t love it.
But I also skim right over it, because it’s what we agreed to.
“I’m noticing a Frozen theme here.”
She laughs easily while she works. “I didn’t realize Phoebe had a milk and soy protein intolerance until she was about two months old, and by then, the Frozen soundtrack was the only lullaby that calmed her. I suppose she formed a pretty intense attachment to it.”
“I don’t understand half of what you just said.”
All I know is that it sounds hard, and I wonder if she was already doing it alone at that point.
She sets the elf on a stack of books, then straightens, brushing her hands on pajama bottoms covered in gingerbread men.
“Her digestive system didn’t like the protein that’s in dairy or soy, so I had to adjust my diet pretty significantly. No butter, no ice cream, no cheese.”
“That sounds… terrible.” I frown. “I’m sorry, it’s admirable, I just can’t imagine life without cheese or butter.”
“It was. But she was worth it. After about a week, she was a whole different person. She smiled more, her skin cleared, and she was much less fussy.”
I swallow. “Tell me you didn’t have to do that alone.”
She shrugs. “Some people are meant to be parents, and he wasn’t one of them. I didn’t know until it was too late.” A heavy sigh escapes her. “I moved closer to Mom and Dad, and they helped more than I can ever thank them for.”
That only eases the ache a little bit.
“Does he—will he be a problem? You know, with all this?” I ask, motioning generically to the room.
“No.” She shakes her head for emphasis. “He hasn’t seen her since she was six months old. And he gave up his rights around her first birthday.” Instinctively, she glances to the lookout above us. “It’s been the two of us pretty much her whole life.”
I bite back a swear and press a fist to my mouth instead.
There are more emotions than I know what to do with, all over a kid I’ve barely known for a week. But I’ve known her mother much longer. I’ve got to do something with this energy, so I pace.
I already can’t imagine life without the two of them in it, but I’m stuck on the fact that I wish I’d been braver back then. More bold in my dreams. I was scared to stand up to my dad and try to balance both, and I told myself she deserved better than me.
Even in my fumbling, I would’ve given her the world.
Chloe wouldn’t have stayed up all night alone or had to make hard choices without someone at her side. She could’ve chased her passions because she wanted to, not because she wanted to survive.
Iknowshe’s got Phoebe, and things played out like they were supposed to.
We found each other again, when we could help each other the most.
But it doesn’t stop the deep ache in my chest, a new sort of grief layered on top of the old ones, that we missed out on so much together.
She hooks a hand into the crook of my elbow, forcing me to stop and focus.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I grate out. “Process? Ihatethat you did this alone. I hate all these feelings inside that I don’t know how to name.”
The elf is perched on a book stack, tangled in a string of ribbon, as if it climbed there and gotten stuck. But it peeks over Chloe’s shoulder, watching us, and it doesn’t help my mood.
