Page 43 of Worth the Wait


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Me: So your convoy would have hit it regardless, or another convoy would have hit it.

Leo: Yes.

Me: Was there any way of you knowing ahead of time about the IED? Like a local who could have told you?

Leo: Highly unlikely. They may have been able to tell us that there were IEDs in the field, but not the exact coordinates. Technology is getting better where soldiers will have equipment that can detect IEDs, but we didn’t have that when we hit one.

Me: So there would be no way of you knowing.

Leo: I guess not.

Me: So it’s not your fault.

Me: It’s not your fault, Leo.

Me: You can ignore me all you want, but you need to hear those words. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.

Leo: Thanks, Ladybug.

Days later, I’m still not sure why Leo texted me to ask if I remembered that story or not. I’m tempted to text him to ask, but don’t feel comfortable enough. Sure, we had an amazingkiss, but I’m still rattled from it. The conversation in Purrfect Books didn’t help ease my nerves either.

So, while I’m out on a Saturday afternoon running errands with Oliver and Violet, I’m unprepared to run into Leo and his mom.

“Leo!” Oliver screams, ripping his hand out of mine to run for Leo. Thankfully, Leo catches him as I chase after him with Violet’s stroller. As I catch up, I notice Mrs. Santo’s eyes on me, not the kids.

“Ella,” she says impassively. While certainly not pleasant, or warm, I know immediately how she feels about me. Frankly, it’s warranted, and I try not to let it hurt me.

“Mrs. Santo,” I reply. Looking at Oliver, who has his arms wrapped tightly around Leo’s neck, I add, “Oliver, you can’t run away from me like that. That wasn’t a safe choice.”

“She’s right, buddy,” Leo says. “You don’t have to run. I promise I’ll always say hello.”

“I missed you, Leo,” Oliver says with an exaggerated pout, bottom lip quivering. I can’t help the major eye roll. Good Lord, he’s really laying it on thick.

“I missed you too, but I don’t want you to get hurt. Auntie Ella would be so sad if that happened,” Leo says, looking over at me, lips tipped in a small smile. When he catches me watching, he winks. Good lord. What is it with this man and winking?

Mrs. Santo doesn’t take her eyes off me. “I was sorry to hear about your sister, Ella. How are you handling things?”

“Doing the best I can, I guess.” I hate that so many people ask me this. What do they expect me to say? Well, it sucks. Sometimes I don’t want to get out of bed. I eat ramen a lot because I can barely pay the rent, but at least I kept the heat on this month. People don’t want to hear honesty.

“She’s doing better than she thinks, Mom. They’re lucky to have her,” Leo says warmly, and Mrs. Santo’s eyebrows raise almost to her hairline.

“Oh?” she asks, and Leo nods.

“Absolutely. I know Ember would be incredibly proud of her.”

A wave of emotion overtakes me. I’ve often wondered how my sister might feel about my parenting skills. I’d never felt especially maternal, and certainly didn’t feel like having children was a must for me. I’d enjoyed being an aunt, and after the last breakup with Leo, I didn’t expect I’d ever have a family of my own. I love Oliver and Violet like an aunt, but they’ve become so important to me since my sister died. They’re the family I didn’t know I needed. I hate that their mom died. I’d give anything to get my sister back. But I’m so thankful I’m here to step in.

“Don’t cry, Ladybug,” Leo whispers, sweeping a tear off my cheek.

I let out a bubble of tearful laughter. “I’ve wondered how Ember would rate my parenting, but never thought she’d be proud of me. Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.”

Leo cocks his head to the side. “Why do you think she wouldn’t be proud of you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. We were very different. I was never exactly maternal, so her trusting me with her children was a leap of good faith.”

Oliver kicks his legs, and Leo sets him down. He comes to me, pulling my hand until I crouch so we’re eye-to-eye. “Mommy told me you’d be good.”

“When did she tell you that?” I ask, curiosity taking over. He’s four. She’s been gone for four months. How much could he remember from before that?