It’s perfect.
“You like it?” Nancy’s voice is a little wobbly, and I can’t hold out my art critic routine any longer.
“I love it, sweetheart. Look at all these lovely flowers, they’re so colourful.” Her eyes light up at my praise, and when she holds her arms up wanting to be held, I pick her up easily, careful to place the picture on the counter far away from the sandwich fixings. “Who do we have here?” I ask, indicating the three stick figures, all heads and limbs with no bodies.
“You,” she sing-songs, pointing at the tallest figure. “Me.” The smallest figure in between the other two. “And Bunny.” She giggles around the new nickname. Corey gives me a side-eye laden with promises of retribution. I simply grin back at him.
We eat our sandwiches, and Nancy asks a lot of questions about her new family. I don’t think she can quite comprehend the list of names, with the exception of Nanny and Grandad, because at least she has faces to put to their names. Her response, far from being nervous and anxious as I’d expected, takes me by surprise.
“Can I see them?”
“Who, sweetheart?”
“All of them. Nanny and Grandad and… er… all of them.”
Corey stifles a laugh behind his napkin, and I shoot him a wink.
“All of them? All together? Or do you want me to take you to see everyone separately.”
“No, here. This is my house. Please?” I am in big trouble because I cannot say no to that little face.
“Sure, baby girl. I’ll invite everyone over tomorrow?”
I’m sure Mum will have no qualms whatsoever about cooking Sunday lunch here instead of at theirs. I pull out my phone and send a group text, even as Nancy has already lost interest and is dragging Corey back to the table for more drawing.
By the time I’ve tucked Nancy into bed, I’m exhausted and overwhelmed in the very best way. She took a few minutes to settle into bed, wanting one more story, or a glass of water, or another trip to the bathroom, but eventually she settled down and fell asleep without too much fuss.
I leave her door open just a touch, thesoft glow of her white glass rabbit nightlight, a gift from Archer, illuminating the landing just enough for me to find the stairs without needing the top light on. I head downstairs and find Corey wiping the kitchen counter down, having cleaned up all the dishes from dinner.
“Did she get off OK?” he asks, voice a soft whisper in the low glow of the under-cabinet lighting.
I nod and move closer to him. I feel sticky, like a magnet searching for its equal and opposite piece to cling to. I know in my bones Corey is exactly that for me, and knowing our time is short, makes it even more necessary that I’m within arm’s reach of him.
“Will you stay?” He freezes at my words, the slight pressure of my chest at his back a sensation I want to lean into and pull him closer. His head tilts back ever so slightly, as though he’s contemplating the very same thing. “Will you stay for the day tomorrow? Please? Spend the day with all of us as a family.”
“Nash—”
“At least give yourself that memory to take with you when you go?”
He’s silent for a moment, and then he nods.
“I’ll be catching the train tomorrow evening,” he whispers. “I have to go, Nash. You know I do.”
I know he thinks he does, but he deserves to be the master of his own fate and make his own choices after everything he’s faced in his life. I nod in resignation.
“Just give me one more day with you.” I can’t help but lean forward slightly and run my nose in a feather-light touch in the crook of his neck. He tilts his head to the side, not baring himself completely, but enough to allow me in. I breathe him in and hold my breath as I wait for his reply.
“One more day,” he sighs, as he finally gives in and leans back into me. I don’t wrap him up in my arms. I don’t kiss his neck, or bite on his ear lobe, or take his mouth in a hungry kiss. We simply stand there, leaning into one another, eyes closed against the world.
Right guy, wrong time indeed.
The next day, after Nancy casts her spell over my entire family and scores herself an army of uncles and an auntie who would fight the hounds of hell for a moment of her attention, I wave my family off as they leave.
Nancy has been spoiled rotten, gifted toys, clothes, books… everything a self-respecting toddler might need to brighten their day. The absolute highlight for me was the child-size easel and beginner painting set that Corey had ordered for her before he’d been taken.
Watching him help my daughter set it up and then proceed to teach her how to paint, the two of them crowded happily into the corner of the conservatory, painting the trees in the garden while everyone else watched on in awe, had made me miss him before he’s even left.
Now, with my family gone and Nancy safe and sound asleep in her bed after an exhausting day, my heart feels so full, and yet it’s empty at the same time because I know we have to say goodbye.
