She was independent, or as independent as a six-year-old could be, and knew her own mind, so for her to say that, it was exactly what she meant.
“I’m glad I live here too. I’m glad I live with your daddy and you and Zara.” Because they were a package deal, and one that I now wouldn’t change, although I wasn’t sure how my mind had been so quickly swayed in just seven and a half months.
“Can we have a juice cocktail?” She jumped away from the table. “Will you help me make it?”
I nodded, then frowned. “Libbie, is something happening today that you’re keeping secret?”
Her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes turned into those belonging to a rabbit in headlights.
The moral thing to do here would be to reassure her that it was okay to keep good secrets that were surprises. The bad thing to do would be to encourage her to tell me.
The wise thing to do would be to say nothing.
“Shall we make that juice cocktail?” One day soon, my juice cocktail would be full of lots of lovely alcohol. I was really looking forward to that first night out with Genny and Neva.
Libbie nodded and walked sensibly over to the kitchen. Some days I wished she bounded more, like Zara did, and occasionally she did show that true childlike love of life. Nate had carried on with the counselling for the girls, more for Libbie than Zara, and it did seem to be helping. She’d processed more than what he realised during her mother’s illness, and some of that was now coming out through the sessions.
“I don’t know what’s going on today.” She whispered the words. “Because Daddy said to keep you busy in here so he could set everything up.” She shrugged. “But I heard him talking to Auntie Jez about a ring.” Her little face looked like it was about to burst with excitement. “Does that mean you’re getting married?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times and I almost dropped the carton of pineapple juice.
“I don’t know. Your daddy has to propose and – and–” it all made sense now. I needed to go in the garage last night for some milk we had in the spare fridge in there, and Jez had gone over the top to stop me. Whatever Nate was doing, it was in part of the garden away from what I could see, and I knew there were more than just me, the girls and Jez in the house. “Libbie, if your dad is going to ask me to marry him, he wants it to be a surprise, so this does need to be a secret between us, until after it’s happened. If it happens.” I crouched down to her height, only worrying a little bit about how I was going to get back up because I was the size of a football stadium. “After that then we can tell him.”
She looked worried. “Will you say yes?”
I blinked and put the carton on the floor before I dropped it. “Do you want me to marry your dad?” Because this was kind of a deal breaker.
Libbie nodded. “You make him smile. I know me and Zara do too – and Auntie Jez. But he smiles different with you. And you make good juice cocktails.” She swallowed. “And you paint my nails nicely.”
“So if he asks me, it’s okay with you if I say yes?”
She nodded rapidly then stilled. I knew what she wanted, she just struggled to initiate it. I opened my arms and she hugged into them. She smelled of little girl mixed with a bit of my perfume, which suggested she’d raided our bathroom.
I let that one go.
We were halfway through the jigsaw – this was one we wouldn’t be doing again – when Nate and Jerrica came in from outside. Nate had gotten changed into chinos and a white shirt, that looked very freshly pressed. He also looked freshly showered and shaved, which was adding up to Libbie’s earwigging findings.
“Can I show you something outside?” He looked at me, raising his brows.
“No!” Libbie jumped up and grabbed my hand. “Amber was going to put that dress on because she said her leggings were rubbing her.”
This was actually true. My leggings were rubbing on my stomach – I was at the point where a lot of my clothes irritated me after too long, especially in this heat. But I knew what Libbie was doing – if Nate was going to propose, I didn’t want to be wearing what I had on right now. “True. Let me go and change.”
Libbie ran up the stairs in front of me, all of a sudden full of purpose. She was in our bedroom before I’d even climbed the last stair and by the time I got to the room, she’d found a pretty patterned dress that I’d bought last week and hadn’t worn yet.
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “I tried your perfume.”
“I know. I could smell it. Ask next time.” I yanked off my (Nate’s) T-shirt, aware that Libbie was staring at my stomach and boobs.
“What are the lines on your tummy?”
“Stretch marks. When the baby grows, your skin has to stretch and sometimes it does so quickly that you get marks. They might fade.” I rubbed at them. I’d applied oils and creams to stop it from happening, but literally one morning they’d been there. I’d decided not to let them bother me.
“Your boobies are really big too.”
That made me burst into laughter. “They are. They were big anyway, but now they’re bigger, because they might feed the baby when he’s born.” I was going to try, but if it was too difficult, I wouldn’t beat myself up over it.
