I don’t want that. Which is the most honest thing I’ve thought in weeks.
“You’re staying,” I say.
She lifts her head and turns to look at me over her shoulder. The surprise on her face is genuine.
“I have to make Anya’s chocolate tonight,” she says. “I promised.”
“Then you’ll go make it,” I say. “And come back.”
She looks at me for a moment longer, reading my face the way she does.
“Okay,” she says.
She gets out.
I hand her one of my shirts hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
She puts it on, and the dark gray fabric falls to mid-thigh. She rolls the sleeves twice and looks at herself briefly in the mirror.
Then she looks at me and leaves.
23
ELLIE
I change in my own room first.
No one can see me strolling through this house draped in Rolan’s shirt, especially not at eleven at night.
I fold it, put it on the bed, and try not to think about the fact that it smells like him.
I don’t succeed, but I try.
The kitchen is quiet at this hour. I make Anya’s chocolate and go upstairs. Her light is still on.
I knock softly even though her door is always open. She’s in bed but not asleep. Mr. Whiskers is tucked against her side, and her sketchbook is open on her lap, containing a half-finished drawing of what appears to be a serious-looking bird.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I hand her the mug. She takes it with both hands and drinks. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
After a moment, she looks up at me. “Are you going to stay?”
“Here? Tonight?”
She shakes her head again. “Here, in the house, with me.”
The sentence is small, but it takes up all the space in the room.
I think about the right answer. Not the easy one. The easy one is,Of course I’ll stay, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere,delivered with a smile that closes the question.
But Anya doesn’t want the easy answer. She’s perceptive, and she’s been left enough times to know the difference between reassurance and truth.
