Page 74 of Come Find Me Tonight

“Remember the first time we came here, and you couldn’t believe the Escalades? Look at you now,” I joke.

She shrugs. “Well, I needed a mom car.” And her Escalade was a beautiful mom car—red exterior with blacked-out rims and decals. She’s prouder that she bought it on her own. “I don’t see you driving anything other than that damn Tesla.”

I snort. “It’s paid off, and our solar panels charge it for free. Can’t complain.”

“Is it too much for just two kids, though?” she asks, referring to her car.

“My mom’s is too much,” I joke.

“Maybe we should get a dog,” she mumbles. “Like a big dog. A Saint Bernard or something.”

I grin because I always let her win. “Whatever you want, baby. Once you’re recovered.”

“Right.” She puts her face in her hand. “Ugh, I wish…I wish I had my mom here,” Appa says.

I stay quiet. I know she doesn’t mean it. It’s the hormones talking. Her mom is something else. She showed up when Ember was a newborn and complained about how hard it was to get to Napa from Savannah. Her mom took one look at me and decided I wasn’t who she envisioned for Appa, but I know I treat Appa better than her brothers treat their wives. Appa was convinced that her mom was jealous of her Escalade and lifestyle with me, like she owed her mom something.

“Apple Pie, you can’t move to Napa with some guy. You’ll get pregnant, and he’ll leave you,” her mom said when Appa told her about our plans to move to Napa before she got pregnant with Ember.

Fucking manipulative.

I can only smirk now, thinking back to that. She was half-right. Appa got pregnant, but I never left and would never leave her side. Through it all, I’ve been here. Every painful period, her pregnancy symptoms, her postpartum bleeding and blues, and now, her recovery. Her mom only ever appeared once, and when Appa told her about her planned hysterectomy over the phone, her mom just said Appa was too young for that. She never watched Appa suffer.

“Bath time,” I say to Ember after dinner.

“Bath!” Ember squeals in delight.

“Clean up your toys and say goodnight to Mommy,” I instruct Ember.

Appa kept our house so neat that her habits brushed off onto Ember. She was meticulous about putting toys away, usually without being told, and I wanted to keep my parents’ house as tidy as possible. Not that my mom would ever mind some toddler messes. She walks over to Appa, now lounging on the couch in the living room under the same blanket with Luca pressed against her chest. “Night, Mommy. Night, Luca,” Ember says.

“Night, big girl.” She pauses and inspects Ember’s curls. “Don’t forget her detangling spray,” Appa tells me. Honestly, she could tell me to jump off a cliff, and I would for her. Some, like Enzo, might call me whipped, but I’m a damn good husband.

“I won’t.”

Ember is a water bug, already asking when the pool will be warm enough to swim in, but for now, bath time is her favorite activity, complete with toys and crayons designed to rinse away. It takes forever because she wants to play for so long, and then I have to comb out her hair. I miss Appa for this part; she’s gentler and seems to have an easier time brushing through Ember’s locks.

“Why are we here?” Ember asks while I comb her hair after getting her in her pajamas.

“So, Nonna and Nonno can help take care of you and Mom,” I answer.

“I miss home.”

“I do, too, but this is home away from home.” Ember shrugs. “I’ll take you by the house tomorrow if you want to get anything.”

“Kay. When are we going home?”

I know she doesn’t mind the attention from her grandparents. She’s a quintessential little girl who likes to ask far too many questions in a day, and my mom has the patience to answer them all. But every so often, guilt rocks through me that her normal routine has been disrupted by not being home.

“Just a few more days.”

And it’s true. I took a two-month family leave from work, and once Appa is through the worst of her recovery and mostly back on her feet, we’ll be back at home while she finishes healing.

After pajama time, I read Ember a story. She’s really into animals right now, which I prefer to princesses, but I know it’s only a matter of time. When Appa is her normal self, she takes Ember to nail appointments where Ember gets her nails painted and loves every minute, and I’ve already found Ember trying on Appa’s shoes and playing with her handbags.

“Goodnight, Evie.” I kiss the top of Ember’s head and tuck her in. She turns and snuggles her favorite stuffed animal.

Never grow up.