I briefly consider making a half-assed attempt at an excuse, but it’s hard to find an angle here that's even remotely believable. So, I admit it. “I left you.”
She uncrosses her arms and starts toward us. “Did you at least bring me back some dinner?”
“Tuna casserole,” Jovi offers. “Though, fair warning, it’s been sitting in my truck the last two hours and it’s definitely starting to smell.”
Holly’s nose scrunches and her lip curls. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Petra’s Pizza delivers here,” Remmi chimes in. “They’re the only place, but they’re really good.”
“I want pizza,” Gavin adds.
“You ate dinner less than an hour ago,” I remind him.
He shrugs. “My tummy always likes pizza.”
“It’s true.” Remmi grabs his hand and starts walking him up to the house. I doubt he needs the assistance, but I remember the desire to control every ounce of care related to my younger sibling. The burning burden of responsibility that both relieves and buries you after losing a parent. The person whose shoes you’re suddenlydesperate to fill. Both to ease the empty ache as well as to keep all the balls of life from falling.
“Petra’s does make a damn good pie.” Jovi rubs his belly like he’s considering the possibility of adding more to it.
“You’re not serious.” I watched that man eat not only his meal but finish off both Remmi and Gavin’s leftovers. Plus, he slurped down the spare shake tin from my order.
“Let him be serious,” Holly cuts in. “I’m starving. The faster we get pizza ordered, the better.”
“The number is on the fridge,” Remmi says. “Mommy always keeps it stuck under the sunflower magnet.” This time, mentioning Lena doesn’t cause her to stumble.
“To the fridge,” I point at the door and the kitchen beyond it. “And the tub for you,” I remind Gavin, who frowns briefly before he remembers there are perks to going first.
“Can I have music? I like music.”
“Sure thing.” I turn to Jovi, who bounces his shoulders in response. If there are designated bath time tunes, he doesn’t know about them either.
“There’s a splish-splash playlist on the old iPod hooked to the sound system in the living room,” Holly says under her breath as I walk by her. When I pause mid-step to stare at her surprised, she adds, “I was bored, okay? And I’m naturally nosey. Also, I know where pretty much everything is in this house now.”
“I don’t know whether I’m unnerved or reassured by this.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I just saved bath time, so I would go with the latter.”
Can’t argue with her there. “So,” I start, holding the door for her to go in, “what do you want on your pizza?”
JOVI
It occurs to me somewhere between cleaning up pizza boxes and reading a third book to Gavin that I don’t really have a reason to still be hanging around. The office is as ready as it's going to get for me to stay in it. I have no reason to not be there now. Settling in for my first night.
But Holly crashed early, wiped out from the drive, and then Liz was here alone with the kids, and I don’t know what happened. My brain checked out. I got caught up in the moment, focusing on the kids and making sure being back in the house transpired with as much ease as possible.
“Can I have milk?” Gavin asks as I’m closing our last book.
“You already brushed your teeth,” Remmi reminds him from where she’s sitting curled up in the bean bag chair across the room. She insisted she wanted no part of the silly stories Gavin chose but then couldn’t quite make it out of the room when I started reading. She hasn’t outgrown story time, but she may be struggling with the idea of keeping the routine alive without her father.
Trent was a kickass storyteller, always throwing himself into every character, coming up with the craziest accents and silliest voices. I didn’t even attempt to replicate his efforts. I simply read the story, word for word, hoping the content was entertaining enough to make up for my lack in performance.
I kept both kids awake through three of them, so maybe I wasn’t terrible.
“But I want milk,” Gavin whines.
“You can have water.” Remmi’s turning into a real hardass these days.
“You can have milk,” I override her, drawing a shocked glare from her. It’s my first experience being scared of a seven-year-old. “And then you can brush your teeth again.” I’m not the irresponsible idiot she’s making me feel like I am. I know milk is high in sugar.
