“Wow, Fred.” Tanner crosses his arms and inspects the room like a true critic. “I’m impressed.”
Winnie stands proudly next to her bed.
“Winnie, it looks amazing,” I tell her. “I think I may need you to unpack my room too.”
“Right now?”
“How about after dinner?”
“Okay, but I don’t want to put your panties away.” She grimaces then flops onto her bed.
“I’ll do it,” Tanner says so quietly, I'm not sure if he even meant to say it out loud. I spin around and he looks as shocked as I am.
“Tan, are you eating dinner with us?” Winnie asks him with every ounce of hope in her chest as she sits up.
“I wish I could,” he replies. “I have to meet some guys for a boring birthday party. But another time.”
“You promise?”
Tanner kneels in front of her so they’re eye to eye and he holds up his pinky. “Promise.”
Her pout melts into a smile and she locks her tiny pinky with his.
“Okay. I should head out.” He ruffles Winnie’s hair then follows me to the door.
But before I can open it, he reaches around me and places his palm against it.
“Tanner—” My words dry up as he brushes up against me.
I’m caged in, with his one hand against the door, the other on my hip. At first, his touch is feather light, almost ghostlike, but he leans his lips down next to my ear and his fingers grasp me tighter.
“My offer was serious.”
“Putting my panties away?”
I can feel his smirk against my ear. “That. And taking you out. Just think about it.”
Winnie calls for me, and without another word, Tannerreleases his grip on me, moves me aside and slips down the stairs and to the parking lot.
“Mommy?” Winnie asks again as she comes up behind me. “Is Tanner your boyfriend?”
“What?” I whip around to face her like a damn kid with her hand in a cookie jar. “What makes you ask that?”
“Mila from dance said her mom has a boyfriend. That they kiss and stuff. And that he helps her with things.”
“No sweetheart. He’s Uncle Rhett and Aunt Laurey’s friend. He likes to take care of his friend’s family too.”
She frowns but doesn’t say anything else.
After dinner and a bubble bath, I tuck Winnie into bed, and she hands me the book she chose from her bag.Where The Wild Things Are.
“This one.” She snuggles in.
I turn off the big light, crack the window, flip on the lamp and lay beside her on the bed. The faded book cover has dented corners and scratch marks. The pages are a bit water damaged and ripped in places where Winnie turned them too quickly. The story is worn and loved.
When I think of everything I have lost in the past few years, then think about this moment with my daughter and this book, I know I have truly not lost anything worth keeping. Even banged-up and well-read books with ripped pages can still be enough, and loved.
12
