She flexed her toes in her shoes and rubbed her lips together, curious and a bit breathless as she texted back. Her mind spun with the possibilities of what he’d show her. Chances are it wouldn’t be what she wanted him to show her. The video of him in the kitchen played across her mind with more frequency than it should have. My God, get your mind out of the gutter.
What do you want to show me? She texted.
I’m not telling, it’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait and find out.
Intrigued, she answered What if I don’t want to wait? What if I have to know now?
Then you’re SOL, aren’t you?
Alice tapped her finger on the phone case. What had gotten into her? Giving blood must have made her loopy. Should she continue with this flirtatious texting or end it there? It was stupid and juvenile but fun and she needed some fun in her life. SOL or SOOL?
SOL, shit out of luck. Nope, you’re right, it’s SOOL But SOOL isn’t as fun to say.
No, it doesn’t quite roll of the tongue, does it? He was right in more ways than one. She was SOOL when it came to him and men in general. Richard had been a monumental failure on her part. He’d tried his best and she’d let him down because something was broken inside of her and she had no idea how to fix it.
Nope. For the sake of tradition, let’s stick with SOL. You’re SOL on this one. Guess you’ll have to come over and find out.
Alice rose from the chair, gathered up her purse and jacket, and found the elevator. She’d planned on going to CG after she and Grace had lunch at a small bistro nearby. The crew had worked at CG overnight, taking shifts to get things done. Brooke had checked in with Alice before she’d left for her appointment. She’d lied to her sister about where she was, something she seemed to be doing lately. Grace was the only person she could confide in but the burden was Alice’s alone.
Exiting the medical building, she crossed the street and entered the busy restaurant. She’d made the decision many years ago to give her daughter up for adoption with few regrets but a lot of guilt. Alice was older now and yearned to start a family with a man that challenged her. A man like Niko who makes you laugh and refuses to let you take yourself too seriously.
No, not like Niko. Don’t even go there. If all she suspected came to pass, he’d end up hating her. And she was unsure how she would ever survive the fallout.
Chapter Seventeen
Niko slipped off his shoes in the foyer of his parents’ old Victorian house and walked into the living room. The blue sectional was jammed against the wall to make room for the huge Christmas tree surrounded by a growing mound of presents. Chloe lay in the middle of the sofa, her head on a bright pink pillow, a cream-colored blanket clasped in her fist. His steps faltered, gut twisting the slightest bit before he inhaled a calming breath. “Hey Kiddo.”
“Hey Uncle Niko. What are you doing here?” Chloe asked, fiddling with the embroidered hem of her blanket.
“I came to see you. Your mom says you need help with your math.” He plopped down on the end of the couch and laid his arm along the back of the cushion. The fact that she was holding the blanket meant she still wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent. She’d had a nosebleed that morning, which kept her home from school.
“I don’t need to do math.” She raised herself into a sitting position and scooted over until she rested her head against his chest, body slumping. He lowered his arm and tucked her into his side. Being in school was important for more than her education. She had friends there and was able to forget she was sick for a time. Days like this affected her mental well-being. The doctor had warned the family that depression could be as dangerous as the actual disease. In the months since the diagnosis, they’d devised a plan to keep her engaged and not allow her to fall into an emotional tailspin.
“Without math, how will you figure out how many birthday presents versus Christmas presents there are under the tree?”
“You know, I’m gonna be ten soon.” Chloe dropped her head back, a bit of life coming back into her solemn face.
“Ten? Oh my God, you’re ancient. Double digits. Now that’s some math.”
“I suppose so.” She sighed and dropped her chin. With the tip of her finger, she traced the elaborate K.C. embroidered in the hem, something he’d watched her do countless times after chemotherapy. When she was four, she’d even had an invisible friend she called K.C.
“Do you think K.C. will remember it’s my birthday?” Chloe asked.
“I’m sure she will. Nobody could forget you,” Niko said, willing his voice to remain relaxed. Inside, the knot in his stomach tightened like it did whenever she asked about her birth mother. Hallie and Jon hadn’t hidden Chloe’s adoption from their daughter and this blanket was the one tie to her past. His niece hadn’t had much use for it until the cancer had wreaked havoc on their lives. After the first chemotherapy session, it became indispensable to the girl.
“Do you believe in angels?” Chloe asked. She often spoke of K.C. as if her birth mother was her guardian angel. Talk of the woman always rattled Niko but Hallie had assured him it was only natural for Chloe to be curious. Regardless of her assurances, he felt a spark of fear and defiance when he even thought about the woman contacting Chloe.
Crazy and irrational?
Yes. And he readily owned it. He’d already lost Jon, his best friend and brother-in-law. He couldn’t lose Chloe.
“I have no reason not to believe.” Whatever reason K.C. had for giving Chloe up, she’d blessed his family with their own little angel. They might never know all the facts. His niece was born in Washington, and although the state was considered an open adoption state, her birth parents had locked down the records. Challenging that in court was a double-edged sword. If Chloe could find out where her parents were, it meant the parents could now find Chloe. They’d given her up but that had been nearly ten years before. What if they changed their mind? “As a matter of fact, I bet your dad is watching over you every minute of every day.”
She nodded, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes. “Mommy says he’s stalking me from Heaven.”
“Now that sounds like something your dad would do,” he said, glad to see her mood lighten. She’d been seven when Jon died and if it hadn’t been for Chloe, Hallie wouldn’t have coped as well as she had. His watch beeped the hour, reminding him that time was running at a fast clip. He plucked at the soft fabric of her flannel pajama pants. “Are you going to get dressed today?”
“Why? I can’t go anywhere.” She lifted her leg and wiggled her toes in her pink socks. “Might as well hang out in my PJs.”
