“Yes.”
Ellie’s head snaps back to me with a gasp. “I know. We can tell them that Willow’s my mommy.” She perks up and this is where I see the conversation going exactly where I didn’t want it.
Willow wraps a loose arm around her shoulders, leaning in to whisper. “We were thinking the same thing, Slippers.” She holds up a finger. “Just as long as you understand that it’s not going to be—well, it’ll only be for a short while. I might .?.?. eventually need to go home.”
“Why? Is your house bigger?”
She laughs. “No.”
“Is it better?”
Willow rolls her eyes dramatically. “How can it be?”
Ellie shrugs. “Then why leave?”
Willow’s brows jump around, eyes skittering like she’s close to panicking. “All I’m saying is, after we .?.?.” Willow winces, “finish playing house .?.?. I might just go back home. Do you .?.?. understand?”
Ellie smiles and hops off the stool, racing to the play area in the living room with a spring in her step.
Willow bites her bottom lip and I twist with doubt over the seed we just planted. “What do we do if she tells the wrong person that this is only for ashort while.”
Willow huffs like that’s the easy part. “You tell them that it’s our way of easing her into this. In case it doesn’t work out—she won’t be disappointed. I lost count of the number of times my mother would tell me, ‘Daddy’s staying with us again fora while,’ in case he took off again.”
Something about this still doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t want Ellie’s heart broken. Running a hand down my face, I march out into the living room.
“Ellie, you heard what Willow said, this .?.?. isn’t forever. Willow will be going home.”
The girl doesn’t even blink. “No, Daddy. She said shemightbe going home.” She grins wide and grabs her backpack, then races up the stairs. “Be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to draw my favorite part of my house like Rose asked.”
My stomach squeezes and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Shit. Did you hear that?”
Willow grins, leaning casually against the archway. “I did. She called you Daddy.”
15
The soft notes of the piano fill the house on Wednesday afternoon. I’ve been working on a new song. No lyrics yet, but I’m in love with the melody. I didn’t set out to write something new today. Not with Ellie coming home any minute, so I’ll need to switch to nanny mode. I started with something familiar. A tune I’ve played in almost every set—just to get my fingers moving. But somewhere along the way, the rhythm shifted. Like it’s taken on a life of its own.
I like it.
I pause for a moment to write down the notes the way they spilled out of me, grinning to myself as I try to come up with a name for this rendition.
But a prickle on the back of my neck tells me I’m no longer alone.
I smile without turning. “Hey, Slippers, when’d you get home?”
She pads across the room. “That was so pretty.”
I scrunch my nose since I don’t think I was going forpretty. “Thanks.” I slide over on the bench. “Want to try?”
She nods and settles beside me, her little hands hovering over the keys like she’s ready to pounce. But she doesn’t, she waits for me.
“Go ahead. It doesn’t bite if you don’t know the notes. Just press some keys and listen.”
Her eyes widen like I’ve just told her it’s OK to break some rules, but then light up with excitement. Ellie taps tentatively on one key, then a few others, speed picking up as if she’d just discovered a new power.
