“Nah. It’s true.”
“Willow is all you.”
“Must be why she’s a ball-ache.”
Orla elbowed me. “She’s a treasure. Bet she was the cutest baby. You have any photos of when they were little?”
“No.” I shut my phone off and tossed it on the coffee table. “This is the longest I’ve ever kept a phone.”
In Orla’s world, that made sense.
In mine, it was another way I’d failed everyone I cared about, but that particular brand of self-loathing was old enough that I could push it aside. Let it fester to ruminate on later.
I drank my beer.
Orla drank hers. Then she got up. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Me?”
She rolled her eyes and exited the room.
I followed her to the fridge where she was pulling ingredients from the shelves.
Chicken. Potatoes. Lemons. “Who went shopping?”
She shrugged. “Alexei. He came by this afternoon for a bug sweep.”
“And he swung by Asda on the way?”
“Waitrose, darling.”
Still couldn’t see it unless he ghosted all this shit out of an unsuspecting delivery truck, but what did I know?
In the living room, my phone erupted with Willow’s notification chime.
I left Orla to work her magic with the chicken and swiped my phone from the coffee table. Approximately eighty thousand messages waited for me.
My kid was excited about Sea Rave.
So was I. I hadn’t taken her to an event like this since she’d been too tiny to appreciate it. Now she was practically an adult, and the time I’d lost cut as deep as any fucked-up scar on my back, but the prospect of new memories—ofhappymemories—made me feel ten feet tall.
I settled on the rug to scroll and read, tapping out a few replies.
Willow:Can I drink cider when we’re there?
Dad:no
Willow:Can I vape?
Dad:only when i’m not looking
Willow:Nash vapes. You don’t give him the stink eye. And hey, maybe you should vape too, so you don’t smell like a smoky goat
Willow:JS
Dad:Nash’s young lungs aren’t my concern.
Willow:Is he, like, your boyfriend?
