I could feel my sisters exchanging glances, but luckily, I was saved from any further questions when Zion and his hair and makeup people showed up and Birdie made introductions.
“Zion, this is Billie, my sister, she is stepping in for Corinne who, as I mentioned, is under the weather.”
“Nice to meet you. You are stunning.” I could feel his eyes scanning my face. “Perfect bone structure, a flawless canvas, andnothappy about this at all.”
“She hates getting her photo taken and doing this as a huge favor for me,” Birdie explained.
“Got it.” Zion nodded. He walked over to me. “I promise I will make this as painless as possible. Maybe even fun.”
“Thanks.” I doubted that, but he had really good energy, so if anyone could, it would be this man.
“What time do you want the boys here?” I heard Bailey ask Zion.
“Anytime. I’ll be ready to shoot in thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes. Photo shoot. Go home. Go to bed. Do everything in my power not to think about Adam, the girls, or the fact that the only place I wanted to be was with them.
11
ADAM
My eyes flutteredopen to the sound of giggling and the high-frequency shriek of cartoon voices, the kind that made the TV vibrate slightly against the old hardwood floor. I immediately squinted, lifting my arm to block the light with my hand. Three thoughts all collided in my brain at once as my surroundings crystallized.
It was daytime.
I was fully dressed.
I was on the couch.
Then questions came. Why was I still on the couch, fully dressed, my neck bent at a forty-five-degree angle against the armrest?
I blinked and lifted my head to find the girls were on the floor, cross-legged in their pajamas, with bowls balanced in their laps, white milk mustaches decorating their serious cartoon-watching faces. The volume was up way too loud for a Saturday morning. Or was it Sunday?
The last thing I remembered was the girls dragging Billie upstairs to read their stories to them. I’d planned to get up and do some more unpacking, and then the next thing I knew, Iwas waking up to cartoons. I groaned and checked my Garmin watch. Nine o’clock. Which, in parent time, was the equivalent of noon.
“Hey, guys,” I called, my voice hoarse with sleep. “Did you—who, uh, got you cereal?”
The twins didn’t look away from the TV. “It was on the table when we got up,” Joey replied, crunching a mouthful. “With the spoons and everything.”
Right. That tracked. I grinned, remembering that was a trick Billie used to do for her sisters in the morning before school. She’d done that for my girls.
I sat up, scrubbing my hands over my face. I looked at the end table and coffee table but didn’t see my phone, and then I remembered I’d left it charging on the kitchen counter. When I stood up, something soft slid down from my lap, a thick wool blanket.
Apparently, the girls weren’t the only ones who got tucked in.
As I walked to the kitchen, I noticed the girls’ hair was braided. The sight made something in my chest twinge as I started the coffee machine and waited for it to work its magic. The braids were identical to the ones that Bailey and Birdie used to run around with.
“Hey, girls,” I called over the gurgle. “Did Billie braid your hair last night?”
“Yeah.” Joey glanced back at me, her face scrunched. “Remember, after our bath.”
“Oh, right.” No. I didn’t remember. Which meant I must have been falling asleep even before she took the girls up for their bedtime stories.
Andi’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the hum of the TV and percolating machine. “Is Billie coming over today?” she asked without preamble, direct as a pinprick.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so.” I said and tried to ignore the way my heart dropped as I poured a mug and took a scalding sip. After finishing half a cup, I told the girls I needed to get ready for the day and to come get me if they needed anything. They didn’t reply, they were deep into their cartoon trance, bowls half-drained.
Upstairs, the noise of the TV faded into the muffled thud of my feet climbing each step. My head throbbed with a low, dull ache, half exhaustion and half frustration that I hadn’t been awake to say goodbye. To thank Billie. To finish the conversation that we’d started before the girls came home, and continued before the pizza arrived.
