I giggle as I slip my purse up my shoulder. “You get out of here and get to work. I’ve got it from here. Has Walker already come by with the soup?”
He nods. “She didn’t want much of it, but Knox said he’d warm her up some more when he comes by to check on her during his lunch break.”
Eli points me in the direction of the guest bedroom even though I already know where it is, and the door’s already cracked open.
I see Pickles on the bed, his head settled into Amber’s lap while she strokes her hand down the length of his neck. Amber’s curled up in a mound of blankets with a stuffed animal clutched under her arm.
The scene makes me smile. “I hear someone’s not feeling well.”
Amber whips her head up. She looks a bit pale, but those eyes of hers brighten when she sees me.
“You came.”
I walk into the room and inch the door a bit more closed behind me. “Of course I did. It’s no fun to be sick alone.”
Amber pats the bed next to her. “Wanna come watch a movie with me?”
I waste no time pulling out my charging cable for my phone and finding somewhere to plug it in on that side of the bed. “I’d love to. What are we watching?”
“My favorite:The Little Mermaid.”
“Ohhh, that’s a good one,” I say as I inch beneath the covers. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Unda da seeeeea,” she begins singing. “Unda da seeeea!”
I giggle as I lean back against some pillows. “Good taste.”
Amber lays her cold hand on my forearm. “Daddy said you’re sick, too?”
“I was,” I admit, “but I’m better today. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”
“Maybe I’ll be better tomorrow like you.”
The room is quiet, except for the sounds ofThe Little Mermaidcoming through the television. I hear Eli leave just as we get to her favorite song, and I sing it with her. Pickles rests in between us, his head in Amber’s lap while my hand pets aimlessly down his spine.
I’m not sure how much time has passed before Amber’s croaky little voice speaks up.
“Lia?”
“Yeah, sweet pea?”
She pauses the movie and it makes me turn my attention to her.
“You okay? You need something?” I ask.
I could never have anticipated the question she hits me with, though.
“Do you think my mom would be mad at me for being born because of what it did to her?”
Lia
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Amber’s small hands twist in the blanket in her lap while she stares down the cartoon paused on the television in front of us. Ariel is frozen mid-song, bright and cheerful in a way that feels painfully out of place in this quiet little room.
Pickles lifts his head from her lap, sensing the shift.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Look at me.”
