The sooner the better—because if I wait too long, it’ll only make her doubt me more.
Yanking my wallet out of my jacket pocket, I thumb through the cash until I find what I need, tossing it in the center of the table. I rise to my feet and jerk my head toward the exit behind me. “Let’s go, Rigsby. We have work to do.”
“What are we doing?” He slides off his seat, lowering his brow into a perplexed position.
“I’m not sure yet.” I dig in my pocket for my keys, knowing whatever it is, it’s bound to be something big. Then, to make Rigsby laugh (because I love his laugh) I say, “Let’s just say, oink oink. Time for pigs to fly.”
seventeen
Kaci
I peek my head into Bella’s bedroom and hold my breath. She looks so peaceful with the soft moonlight from her window shining on her cheek. Her shoulder slowly moves up and down with her breath. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing Little B 2, sleeping in her arms, but I’m so glad she isn’t sad about losing Little B. I slip my foot back, closing the door as I make my exit, but Bella startles and turns toward me. “Mom?”
Oh no! I should not have bothered her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper, taking yet another step backwards. “Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” She shuffles under her blanket and pushes to a half-seated position. “What did you want?”
“Nothing, baby,” I drop my volume even more. “I was just checking on you. Go back to sleep. School tomorrow.” Bella lies back down but doesn’t stay quiet.
“Are you sad about Jackson?”
“I’m not sad,” my rebuttal is instant and snappy. “Why would you think that?” I hold up a finger, tapping a spot in the air as if pointing to him, while adding, “I don’t even know him.
“I saw you kiss him.” Her random admission hits me with so much force that I gulp.
“You saw that?” My breath quickens, it hadn’t dawned on me that the kids have witnessed that. The last thing I need is for her to end up confused—or worse yet, thinking there’s something going on between us. “It didn’t mean anything,” I rush out. “You don’t need to worry about me and Jackson.” My voice grows high-pitched, as if it’s the most absurd thing ever to say aloud.
She turns her head from me. Even in the darkened room, I can make out the serious lines on her face. From the straight lips to angled-down brows, she’s worrying again. “Baby.” I cross the room until I make it to her bedside. “Sometimes things happen, and they aren’t what you plan on, or what you want.” I lean over, brush the tips of my fingers through her hair, smoothing it out of her face. I add, “Jackson kissed me, and it wasn’t anything I was expecting. We talked about it, and we both know it was a total fluke. It will never happen again. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Instead of her lips tipping into a contented grin, her serious lines deepen. It’s quite evident she’s scowling. “Baby,” I swipe the last strand of hair from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “Please don’t be upset. It wasn’t anything I planned on, and it doesn’t change anything.”
“Why not?” She sits up and most of the hair I had neatly tucked behind her spills over her shoulder again.
“What do you mean? Why not?” Bella is rarely confrontational about anything. She’s the most obedient and agreeable child who ever existed. Where is this fear coming from? A wave of guilt floods my gut for missing her concern. All I want to do isassure her that nothing’s changed, and she has nothing to worry about. I try again. “Because I won’t let it change anything.”
“Don’t you see?” There’s a warning branded into her tone. “When you look at Jackson, you actually smile. That kiss made you happy.” The next words trickle out as a plea. “Why would you push that away?”
Shock and a rush of astonishment, mixed with shots of adrenaline, fire through my veins. Bella has never said anything about this before—I had no idea she sensed my unhappiness. The last thing I need is another reason to feel mom guilt.
I pushed Jackson away because he couldn’t possibly be interested in me for anything more than just random flirting; I only attract losers. When he figures out that he’s too good for me, he’ll leave. There’s no Prince Charming waiting for me, but Bella is only seven. She wants to believe in the fairy tale happily-ever-afters. I hate to break her heart. How do I tell her that fairytales aren’t real? Or that there is no way a guy like Jackson could end up wanting to date me seriously.
Bella’s eyes twinkle with hope-filled specs, but all it does is flood my stomach with more guilt. “Well,” I begin, fully aware that she’s only seven. I’ll never be the mom who parentifies her daughter. Some things she doesn’t need to understand—at least not yet. “I was smiling so much because I was watching you smile while you played with Rigsby.”
I pause, as that was exceptionally hard to force over the new lump in my throat. I’m not one to get choked up, as communication isn’t hard for me, but my body knows when I’m not being completely honest.
Maybe it’s a liar’s lump?
I’m not trying to deceive her, but she doesn’t need to sit here hopeful for something that isn’t going to happen.
Her lips turn down even more, taking my heart with it. “Last summer when we went to visit Grandma, she said you don’t think you deserve to be loved.”
“Why would Grandma say that?” I practically growl. Sometimes my mom says the rudest things. My defensiveness rises, and I blurt out, “Trust me, Bella. I want us to be happy. If I ever get a real chance at love, I’m not going to push it away, but that kiss—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “That kiss was just a kiss.” I place my hand on her arm and give it a playful squeeze. “And you’re seven and should never worry about that. Or me. It’s my job to do all the worrying. You just be seven.” To end the conversation on a high note, I pat her pillow. “Time to rest.”
She’s slow to lower herself back down, but her sleepiness is evident by how quickly she closes her eyes. I lean over, sweeping her hair out of her face one more time and press a kiss to her forehead. I pause for a beat, notice how her breathing has already begun to deepen. Then, on the tips of my toes, I quickly slip out, holding my breath until the door clicks softly shut behind me.
A sigh of relief slips from my lips as my gaze finds the clock on the microwave. Almost nine. I could totally go to bed early, and crash out, but I need to finish reading for class. On my way to the kitchen, I grab my books from the entryway, and plop down at the table. Thanks to my unpaid electric bill marking the page, my book opens right up to where I left off. Setting the bill aside, I make a mental note to pay it on Friday. I scan the last section to remember what this chapter is even about, but my memory isn’t jogged, so I move back to another section.
