Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
CELESTE
Maise dances around the tree as I wrap gifts for Quin and my dad on her living room floor. The music that used to instill sadness and overwhelm in me sends her prancing around the sofa as she spins and waves her hands around to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”.
Michael Bublé edition, if I’ve got the swoony tone pinned down.
The fire crackles, sending its warm and flickering glow around the softly lit room. It is a little surreal being here without Quinton, yet the house feels like more of a home than next door with Dad gone.
The thought of him surrounded by strangers makes my chest squeeze. But I understand that to him, everyone is a stranger now.
I tie off the red ribbon on his gift, another classic book I picked up from the Christmas market before the tree lighting a week ago.
Wow, that was only a week ago? It feels like years’ worth of stuff has happened in the last seven days. In the last month, if I’m honest.
“CC, can you run me a bubble bath?”
Maise flops onto the sofa, and I spin on my seat and look up at her. “All out of moves, little lady?”
“Dancing is exhausting.” Her head lolls to one side.
Pushing to my feet, I scoop her up and onto my hip. “Come on then, let’s get you washed and ready for bed.”
When we walk from the living room toward the stairs, she twists in my hold. “Daddy would never let me stay up this late.”
I glance at the old clock on the mantel that shows ten past nine.
Shit, so much for her bedtime. The night just got away from us, with dinner, dancing, present wrapping, and a whole ton of laughter and fun.
Something warm and permanent fills me to the bone.
Happiness.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I say, tapping her little button nose.
She uses a hand to zip her lips, locking it and stuffing the hand in her pocket before shaking her head.
I chuckle. “Our little secret, hey, sweetheart.”
She snuggles into me, small arms sliding around my neck as I ascend the stairs. With a quick bath and towel-down, she’s ready for bed. I tuck her in snug as a bug in a rug style, just like Quin does.
As I go to leave, she slips one arm from her confines and grabs my wrist. “CC?”
I turn back. “Yeah, baby?”
“Stay.”
Stay?
“Okay, just for a little while.” I sit on the edge of her bed, but she pats the pillow. I lay down and she wiggles closer, her small hand slipping into mine.
“I miss Daddy,” she whispers, her face falling from joy to sadness in a heartbeat.
I give her hand a squeeze and roll over, hugging her into my chest. Running my hand over her head, I sigh. “Me too, sweetheart.”
She sniffles, and it’s now I feel her little body shake with a sob.
“This is the first time you and Daddy have been apart?” I ask.
She nods against my chest.
“That’s tough, kiddo.”
Especially since it’s always been her and Quin against the world. She doesn’t know an existence without him around.
“You know what, a long time ago, I felt a little like you are now.”
“Your daddy was gone, too?” she asks, her big brown eyes, now soaked with tears, drifting up.
“My mom was. And I was so sad. But you know what?”
“What,” she utters, her hands close around my own as I brush a damp strand from her face.
“Snuggles always helped.”
I cuddle her against me tight, tickling her ribs until she is giggling and wriggling, making a mess of her blankets.
I give her a reprieve, pushing up on one elbow as I roll toward her. “You’re not alone, Maise. I’m right here. You need me, just say so, okay?”
“You promise?” Maise settles down again, cuddling into me.
“I promise,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
“Always?” she whispers.
The last breath catches in my throat.
Always . . . in this life where we have so little control over so many things.
But those are grown-up thoughts and worries.
“Always.” I rub her cheek with my thumb, studying her pretty brown eyes as I give her a warm smile.
That’s all she needs right now. Someone who loves her.
How many times have I been that little girl, over and over in my life, despite getting older every year?
And without that steady constant, you can find yourself floundering like I was for over a decade. Not this time. Not this little girl. I hug her closer and sink onto the pillow. “Get some rest, sweetie. One more sleep to go.”
“One more sleep and Daddy’s home . . .” Maise yawns, her eyes fluttering closed.
When her breathing settles, I brush her hair from her face and extricate myself from the tangle of covers and limbs. Pulling the door closed, I pad to Quin’s room.
The second I open the door, his sandalwood and spice hits me . . .
Maise isn’t the only one who misses Daddy.
I scoff at the thought, but the amusement fades as I realize I do. I do miss him. Things feel off-balance without him. Not grounded and certain, just anxiously floating somewhere up near the ceiling, like a hot burst of a summer afternoon squall.
I ready for bed and crawl beneath the covers. But this time, I make a point of sleeping on Quin’s side. With Dad in the home and Maise in her own bed, the reminder of Quin is all that I can grab onto.
I hope he’s making progress with Maisey’s mom. God, I can’t imagine how life would be without Maise in it. Quin must be beside himself. I know I would be.
Losing Dad to his disease, even though he is only miles away, was hard enough. And he’s my parent, not my child.
Suddenly, the thought of life without Maise—without Quin is too small. My chest caves in on itself, and a weight I can’t explain settles in the space.
Would Quin leave if he lost Maisey? He only moved here to give her a better childhood. This house would still be his, but would he want to stay if it was just him rattling around in it?
God, I should have gone with him.
Maybe I could have helped?
The door creaks open, and a small figure pads to the other side of the bed and slides in. Before I can take stock, I’m reaching for her, pulling her close and wrapping the blanket around the both of us.
“CC?” she says, her little voice so small and wobbly.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Maise.”
Her fingers curl around the opening of my pajama shirt.
Love you, too, sweet girl.
And I miss your daddy more than I thought I could ever miss another human being.