Page 49 of Denial
My fingers wrap tightly around the nearest handlebar, slowing her crawl. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!” My little girl knocks my grip away with an unexpected swipe. “Race you home!” she shouts, her voice wobbly.
I watch her leave earshot before I unleash a curse. “Fuck.”
Instincts tell me to give her space, so I follow silently behind, letting her work through whatever she’s dealing with. She stays within sight, reaching our driveway only a few minutes before I do.
The sound of muted sniffles beckons me into the house. After flipping on the porch light and arming the alarm, I step out of my sneakers and jog down the steps. The yellow glow from my bedroom indicates which way my girl went.
My heart clenches at the sight of Nellie face down in my pillow. Her legs hang off the edge, shoes still on her little feet. She looks so small it’s easy to forget she’s growing quickly and no longer the toddler I used to rock in my lap when the world felt big and scary.
Cocking a knee, I ease myself onto the edge. I smooth my fingers over a crease in the comforter as I wait.
Five, ten minutes later, Nellie takes a big breath and rolls over. With both hands, she shoves messy strands of hair out of her face and wipes those teary eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Do you want to tell me what’s got you down?”
I fight the instinct to demand the name of whoever hurt her so I can pay them a visit. That’s not how we do things. Yet. In a few years, my methods will most likely change. That is, if her uncles don’t handle the problem before I get there.
Though I don’t think this is something I can fix with a few threatening words.
“There’s a princess dance at school on Friday, and Maddie said I don’t get to go because I don’t have a mom.”
Well, fuck. Those words have methisclose to reconsidering my earlier thought. This is one of those single-parenting things that doesn’t have a good answer.
“I’m sorry, Nellie. She shouldn’t have said that to you. That was hurtful.”
Those big, teary eyes sink into my chest like claws and score across my heart. “I really, really want to go to the dance, Daddy.” Her lower lip trembles.
Yep, I take it back. The right thing to do is pull out my phone and tell her uncles to assemble. All of them. Blood related or not.
“You can still go. I’ll take you. Hell, I’ll wear a dress if I have to.”
“You can’t wear a dress.” A little bit of the light returns to her eyes.
“Says who?” I grump.
“Me!” She slaps her palms down at her sides. “Stop being funny. I’m sad right now.”
“Right. Sorry.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What about asking one of your aunts to go? We could call them and ask.”
Technically, Nellie only has one aunt. Cortney is married to my brother, Spencer. But Lee and his brothers are as close as family, and each of their wives is like a sister to me.
Except Whitney. The reason Ms. Thompson is under my employ. She might not be receiving a Christmas gift this year for the stunt she pulled with hiring my new nanny.
Nellie slowly sits. “Do you think Miss Alice would go with me?”
My jaw falls slack. “I don’t know, Buttercup.” I reach for an excuse, anything to deter the direction of her thoughts.
“She doesn’t like me either,” she mumbles, covering her eyes with the heels of her hands.
Oh fuck.
“Now you know that’s not true.” The words fall out in a rush.
“So I can ask her?”
The acquiescence oozes from me like a toxic sludge. Cornered like a damn stray, I mutter, “You can try.”
