“But not too scawy,” Ava adds quickly her little lisp giving her a cute little pronunciation. “‘Cause then I’ll have bad dweams. Don’t like bad dweams.”
“So... scary but not too scary?”
“Yes!” they say in unison.
I glance at the doorway where Chloe is leaning, trying not to laugh. She’s been standing there for the last five minutes, watching me butcherThe Three Little Pigswith an expression that’s somehow both amused and fond.
“Any suggestions?” I ask her.
She pushes off the doorframe and walks into the room, and something in my chest loosens at her presence. It’s been happening all day— this sense of relief whenever she’s nearby, like the world makes more sense when she’s in it.
Which is a problem I’m trying very hard not to think about.
“May I?” She holds out her hand for the book.
I pass it to her, and our fingers brush. Again. For the third time today. I’m starting to think the universe is messing with me.
Torturing me.
Chloe settles on the edge of Mia’s bed, and both girls immediately scoot closer to her. She’s only been here a week, but they already gravitate toward her like she’s the sun and they’re planets caught in her orbit.
I know the feeling.
“Okay,” Chloe says, opening the book. “Let’s see this wolf. Where were we?”
“The part where he blows down the straw house!” Ava bounces excitedly. “That’s the best part!”
“The brick house is the best part,” Mia argues. “‘Cause the wolf can’t blow it down.”
“Both parts are good,” Chloe says diplomatically. She clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her voice is deeper, rougher. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
Both girls gasp, delighted and slightly scared.
“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!” Chloe squeaks in a high-pitched pig voice.
“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!” The wolf voice is perfect— menacing enough to be exciting but not so scary that Ava will be up all night.
I watch her perform the story, doing different voices for each character, making exaggerated expressions that have the twinsgiggling. She’s a natural at this. At making them feel safe and entertained and loved.
At being exactly what they need.
What we need.
The thought hits me hard enough that I have to look away, focusing on the bookshelf lined with picture books instead of the woman making my daughters laugh.
“And the wolf fell down the chimney into the pot of boiling water, and that was the end of the big bad wolf!” Chloe closes the book with a flourish. “The end.”
“Again!” Mia demands. “Again!”
“Nope. One story, remember? That’s the rule.” Chloe sets the book on the nightstand and starts tucking Mia in, smoothing the covers with gentle hands. “It’s time for sleep.”
“But I’m not tired,” Ava protests, even as she yawns.
“Okay, but let’s find out.” Chloe moves to Ava’s bed, giving her the same treatment. “Close your eyes. I bet you’ll be asleep in thirty seconds.”
“Will not.”
“Will too.”
