He scoffs, shaking his head. Leaving whatever’s in his mind unspoken. Then, after a moment, he rubs the stubble along his jaw with a heavy sigh, as if that was a lot to take in. “On second thoughts, think your wit would’ve been just fine.” He glances over at me and winks.
I gape at him just before smacking his forearm, then burst out laughing. “You’re the worst.” I shake my head. “But now I know for next time.”
12
I hoist Ellie up onto the kitchen counter. She’s in her jammies, with that curly-girl bedhead, that’ll stay like that until either Rose or I do something about it. Usually Rose.
But Ellie likes it bouncy in the morning for some odd reason. Never asked. Going to have to one of these days.
I push a few spirals from out of her face, then press my palms to the countertop on either side of her.
“All right, I got all your favorites. Pebbles, Sugar Flakes, box of pancake mix, the works—”
“Sugar Flakes?” Her eyes pop.
I hold up a finger. “But before breakfast, there’s something really important I need to talk to you about. Two things.”
Her face falls. “It’s Grandma, isn’t it?”
I blink. “Well—I mean, yes, but—”
Her eyes haze up like she’s trying to remember the last time she saw her. “She got too sick?”
I nod. “Yeah, honey, she did.”
Her pretty blue eyes water but she doesn’t burst into tears. “I knew it.”
I inhale, part proud of her strength, part worried about it. “Well, I’m glad you prepared yourself, but it’s still very sad and it’s OK to be upset.”
“She gave me Pinky.”
“Who?”
“The pink pig stuffy in my room. She told me her name was Piggy, but I thought she said Pinky.”
The tears in her eyes never fall. If anything she looks confused. Looking up at me sincerely, she asks, “Do you think I should rename her Piggy? Like Grandma wanted?”
I blink.
How the hell do I answer that? Do I sayyes, you should, because she’d love that. Would it make Ellie feel better that she’s doing something to honor her grandmother?
Or do I say no, because we’d be making Piggy—or Pinky—a sad memory?
I step back, running a hand through my hair. “Why don’t you keep callin’ her Pinky. That way, we don’t confuse Pinky.”
She nods, relieved but still a little unsure.
Shit. Was that the wrong answer?
“I know what the second thing is,” she says quietly, head dropping.
“You do?”
“I have to go live with Grandpa now? Because he’s not taking care of Grandma anymore?”
“What? No. What gave you that idea?”
She shrugs, eyes still down. “I saw him here from the window yesterday.”
