Chapter 8
EIGHT
Larissa already warned me that Kay had two reactions when Romel left for practice or work. She would either shut down and fold in on herself, or she would have a total and complete meltdown.
I was thankful that Larissa shared this information with me since Romel did not.
I’m not sure if it’s because of our awkward interaction this morning or what, but he walks out the door after breakfast with barely a glance in my direction—simply a hug and a kiss to Kaylee, and then he’s gone.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I see what Larissa meant about Kaylee shutting down.
Her tiny little shoulders droop and her face goes blank, her eyes filling with a kind of despondency that doesn’t seem normal for a three-year-old.
“Hey, KayBear,” I say. “What do you want to do today while your dad’s at work?”
A shrug is her only response.
I haven’t spent a lot of time with Kaylee, but I’ve spent enough time to know that this is not the little girl I’m used to. It seems like as soon as Romel walked out the door, all of the bright, vibrant color she carries in her little body walked out the door with him.
I get down on my knees and sit back on my heels so I can be eye level with her. “What’s going on in that little head of yours, Kay?”
Another shrug.
“Do you want to color?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you want to play with your dolls?”
Another head shake.
I look around the room for some ideas of what to do. My gaze catches on the TV. Romel didn’t say anything about screen time limitations, so I figure it’s worth a shot.
“We could watch a movie or a show?” I offer.
A shrug.
Quickly running out of ideas, I see a small pink football in the corner. “Do you want to toss the ball around?” Before she can shake her head or give me another shrug, I add, “I bet that’s what your daddy’s going to do at work today.”
Her eyes flick up at mine. There she is.
It’s not a verbal yes, but it’s not a shrug or a head shake, so I’m going to take it as one.
I crawl over and grab the squishy football, turning back to face her. “Okay, Kay,” I say. “Hold your hands up. I’m going to toss it to you, okay?”
She looks unsure, but she puts her hands up slowly, and I take that as another positive.
So with a gentle underhand toss, I throw it her way. The small football bounces off her chest and onto the floor. But I catch the way her lips tilt up in the faintest smile.
She ducks down to pick it up and immediately throws it back at me, with an impressive arm for a three-year-old .
I catch it with a smile. “Great job, KayBear.”
The corners of her lips lift just a little bit more. She holds her hands up and I toss it again.
More often than not, she doesn’t catch the ball and it bounces off her chest. But her smile grows with each toss and that feels like a victory in itself. Her shoulders are no longer droopy, and her eyes aren’t forlorn.
After about the sixth or seventh toss, she suddenly gets very excited about throwing the ball.
A bit too excited.
And in that excitement, she throws the ball harder and higher than I’m expecting. It passes by my fingertips, barely grazing them, but it’s just enough to change the angle so that the ball veers off to the side, right toward a shelf with some ceramic figurines, including one shaped like a teddy bear with a red and white bow tie.
I watch in slow motion as the ball knocks over the small ceramic teddy bear just hard enough that the fall causes one of the ears to break off.
Kay sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh no,” she cries. Tears instantly fill her eyes as she starts sobbing.
I’m guessing from her reaction that the figurines are special, but I’m less concerned about the broken bear than I am about Kaylee’s well-being. I wrap my arms around her, shushing her and soothing her until she eventually settles down.
To distract her, I pull up a movie, and we watch that until she falls asleep for her nap.
While she’s sleeping, I examine the figurine. It looks old, but well taken care of, and I wonder how upset Romel will be that it’s now chipped and broken. The good news is it’s not beyond repair. I’m sure some superglue will fix it, but it won’t be exactly the same. There will always be a slight crack along where the ear connects to the head, even after it’s fixed.
Considering the rest of the house is childproof, I’m kind of surprised Romel has something so breakable out in the room. It seems like a weird oversight.
Romel comes home from practice while Kaylee is still napping, and I’m grateful we can have this conversation without her overhearing, considering how distraught she was when it broke in the first place.
When he walks in, his face is guarded like it’s been every time he looks at me.
“Hey.”
Short and to the point. Not friendly, but not exactly cold either. I let out a sigh because I am not looking forward to sharing bad news with someone who already can’t seem to decide whether he wants me here or not.
“Hi,” I say back, the room already filling with awkward tension. “I’m glad you’re here before Kay woke up because we had a bit of an incident today.”
He stiffens, and then his gaze turns sharp. “What kind of incident?”
I walk over to where the figurines are and hold up the bear in one hand and the piece of its ear in the other. “Kay accidentally hit it with her soft little football—the pink one,” I added as if this man doesn’t know what toys his own daughter has. I nearly roll my eyes at myself. “The ear broke off,” I say, despite it being obvious since I’m holding the ear up.
A slew of emotions I can’t quite understand crosses his face. Then his gaze shutters once more, and when he turns to me, it’s cold as ice.
“Those belonged to her mother, my wife.”
I swallow thickly as my heart drops into my stomach.
Oh, shit.
“I’m sorry, it happened so quickly,” I start to ramble. “I think it can be fixed with superglue—” He stops me by holding a hand up. I swallow any other words that want to come stumbling out.
“Just go,” he says, his gaze now back on the bear. “We don’t need you for the rest of the day. I have practice again tomorrow, same time. So we’ll see you in the morning.”
I stare at him, completely speechless and stunned.
I have never been so dismissed.
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, as calmly and professionally as I can, and then I walk out the door.
I thought nannying would be a good option while I sort myself out and figure out my life.
But now I’m questioning if this is such a good idea after all, if this is how it’s going to be, no matter how much I’m enjoying my time with Kaylee.