I nodded. That was exactly how I felt.Full.
“Good.”
He tried to make small talk, but I couldn’t focus, and before I knew it, we were parked in front of a large two-story house.
“Walk normal,” he muttered as we started up the steps.
“What?”
“You look like you have something stuck up your ass.”
“But I—”
“Eisley,” he warned. I straightened myself and clenched, relaxed, and then clenched again, but to a lesser extent. I could do this. I took a few steps ahead of him and looked back. He nodded his approval, and my stomach fluttered. His brooding eyes melted me every time. “Good girl,” he growled low in my ear as we reached the door and rang the doorbell.
A middle-aged black man with a receding hairline and square glasses came to the door and greeted us warmly. Constantine introduced himself.
“Thank you for indulging us, Stephen,” he said to the man as we went inside the house.
“Of course. We didn’t know the previous owners, but we’re sorry to hear about your story. I was able to dig up photos from when it was originally listed for sale. When they took the pictures, all your parents’ belongings were still here.”
He took us to the kitchen, where he handed Constantine a folder. Constantine handed it to me, and I opened it cautiously. Would I remember any of this?
There was a full stack of photos. I took them and set the folder on the table. I looked around the kitchen. Everything was white with navy accents. In the photos, my parents had decorated in greens and reds.
“There was a definite apple theme.” Stephen chuckled. “We kept the colors for about five years, but opted for a remodel after our kids left the house.”
“Can we get a full tour of the house?” Constantine asked.
“Of course.” Stephen smiled warmly and led us through the kitchen to a pantry, and slowly, we worked through the house. We stopped in every room so I could compare the photos to the current setup, and with each new room, my excitement began to deflate. I didn’t remember any of this.
“How old were you when you were—” Stephen started but then stopped and cringed.
“I was five. I don’t even remember what they looked like.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stephen said again.We went upstairs, and I ran my hand along the wall. I wondered if my parents had hung photos all the way up.
“There’s three bedrooms. When we did our first walk-through, there was a little girl’s room and an office. This is the one. Yours, I imagine.” Stephen opened a door and allowed us to go first.I stepped inside and froze as my gaze landed on the circular window at the other side of the room.
I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I could remember it all so vividly.My mom, with her long hair, standing on a chair, painting the ceiling.
“Starry night.”
“Yes,” Stephen said from behind me. “This entire room was painted to look like the painting. It was pretty cool. I wanted to keep it, but my daughter was obsessed withThe Princess and the Frog, so we painted over it.”
I stepped further inside, staring at everything. Despite the walls being shades of green, I remembered the blue and yellows. My blankets and desk and everything matched. I closed my eyes, and I could suddenly hear her singing as she painted and warned me not to touch the wet walls.
“Eisley, sweetie, don’t touch the paint, or you’ll ruin it.”
“Okay, Momma.”
A warm, large hand settled around my waist, and I turned into Constantine. “I remember,” My voice cracked. “I remember her.” Tears slid down my face.I’d been ripped from this warm, loving home, and taken to… that place.
“Shh, it’s okay. That’s good. What do you remember?”
I took a deep breath and looked toward the door. Stephen had disappeared, giving us some privacy.
“I remember her smiling and listening to Alicia Keys. She liked to sing. She’d sing and paint, and she’d give me watercolors to paint pages while she worked.” I shifted through the photos, finding the ones of my room, confirming the blue walls I remembered.
