Chapter 3
BLYTHE
“Mommy?” Maggi whispers from beside me on the bed.
“Yeah, Roo?” I whisper back, my hand stilling on her back where I’ve been drawing circular patterns for the last fifteen minutes, hoping she’ll fall asleep.
“Nana said we’re going to a castle tomorrow.”
My mother-in-law has been hyping Maggi up about the long drive north since we arrived.
“Are you excited about that?”
She tips her head and smiles up at me. “Is there a princess at the castle?”
“You may be the princess at this castle,” I say, tickling her and earning a hushed squeal as she cozies up more into my side.
“I hope the prince is there,” she says wistfully.
“Oh yeah?” I slide down onto my back and roll my head to look at her. “Why do you want there to be a prince?”
“Then you can marry him and be his princess, and we can live in the castle.” She shrugs like it’s the most normal thing to say in the world.
“Maybe he’ll let us live there without getting married,” I tease, only to be met with an aggressive little head shake. “No? I have to get married?”
“Yes.” She nods.
“Why?”
She blinks over at me, little fingers dance lightly across my cheeks, and she yawns, closing her eyes without another word.
I lie there with her hand resting on my cheek and watch as her breathing changes, the sleep that evaded her on the plane, finally catching up.
A couple of months ago, she asked me when her daddy was coming home.
We’ve had many conversations about how he isn’t.
But in her mind, time doesn’t mean the same as it does for me.
It’s always after a playdate or a trip to the playground.
She hears the other kids talking about their dads and it’s only natural that she wants to know about her own.
And I’m happy to talk about him whenever she wants to.
But it’s hard to have to explain the concept of death over and over again.
Each time it’s like reliving it. The knock on the door.
The phone call to his parents. The nights of more tears than I ever thought possible.
All while having to be Maggi’s mom. I made it through because of her.
So when she asks, I answer honestly because I owe her that much.
I owe him that much too. Eric did not sugarcoat facts.
He could deliver them kindly, but he was always truthful.
Choosing to handle our truth with the same tact is one of the ways I keep him here with us, even when it’s hard for me.
I watch Maggi for a few more minutes before slowly sliding out of bed and making my way down to the living room, where my in-laws are talking quietly over tea, a third mug set on the coffee table for me.
I hate tea, but I’ve never had it in me to admit it or refuse a cup when it’s offered.
“How’d she go down?” Martha asks, holding a plate of shortbread out to me.
I take one and lean back into the couch, pulling my feet up under me. “Well, thankfully,” I say, doing my best to avoid looking at the pictures that line the mantle beside me.
“She’s grown so much in three months,” she marvels, dipping her biscuit and taking a dainty bite.
“Like a weed.” I chuckle.
“Like her father,” Thomas says, nodding at his wife. “That boy shot up like Jack’s beanstalk between five and seven. Don’t be surprised if Maggi does too.”
I remember the pictures they showed me the first time I’d come over.
Walking me through Eric’s childhood, one page at a time.
Something we did once again before his celebration of life.
Except the topic went from look how fast he grew to he didn’t get to grow for long enough.
Not that he was physically growing anymore, but he was still growing into the man, husband, and father he dreamed of being.
I take a timid sip of tea, gauging the temperature before taking a larger gulp.
Martha sighs, and I look over the rim of the mug at her. “I don’t know why you bother,” she says with a shake of her head.
“I don’t understand.”
“The tea. You hate the stuff, yet you force yourself to drink it anyway.”
My mouth falls open, and both my in-laws chuckle. I thought I’d been doing a good job of hiding how I truly felt.
“We’ll still love you if you ask for coffee, water, or, hell, even wine,” Martha says. “Liking tea has never been a prerequisite.”
“Did Eric tell you?”
Thomas’ laugh booms through the room, and he’s quickly shushed by Martha. “Lass, your face reveals more than you know.”
I look between them, shocked. “Why have you never said anything?”
“We were curious how long you’d put up with it.
” Martha stands and gently takes the mug from me.
“But after flying across the ocean with a five-year-old, I can’t bear to watch you go through it right now.
” I see pity on her face briefly. The looks are more fleeting these days than they used to be, but they still make an appearance.
“That’s my cue to go to bed then,” I sigh, standing. “Maggi’s going to be up before dawn probably, and I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a longer day than today.”
“I can get up with her,” Thomas says. “Wouldn’t mind some breakfast time with Mags.”
The offer is tempting. “I never sleep well the first night in a new bed, but, if I’m somehow still asleep when she gets up, I won’t fight you on it.” There is absolutely no way I’ll still be asleep when Maggi wakes up, but there’s no point in arguing.
I give them both a kiss on the cheek and head to the guest room, hoping I’ll crash the minute my head hits the bed.
My daughter’s giggles filter through the tail end of my dream. The image of a brown-eyed, brown-haired man dispersing like ripples in a puddle, and I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, hoping to maintain the image a little longer.
I haven’t seen another man in my dreams since Eric died, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
I’m not someone who refuses to move on. Won’t be the kind of person who closes my heart to the possibility of being loved and loving again.
No, I’m open to it, but Maggi comes first, and any future partner has to understand that.
Being cock-blocked in my dream by my kid surely has to be a reminder of that.
I let myself lie there for a little longer, staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet rumblings of conversation coming from down the hall.
It sounds like they’re still in Maggi’s room.
The room that my in-laws had swapped out rugby and football posters for unicorns and faerie posters.
Eric’s childhood bedroom is now our daughter’s, even though she won’t spend much time in it.
Knowing they want her here means the world.
Knowing they want me here as much is a feeling I’m not sure how to describe.
“Oh, let’s let Mommy sleep for a little longer, Mags.” I hear Thomas murmur as their footsteps echo past the door, and I smile to myself, stretching my sore limbs and already dreading the long drive to Hamilton House.
Once there, however, we’re there for a full week, so at least there’s that.
I can’t wait to show my daughter the Highlands.
It’s a place near and dear to my heart, and despite being a city boy through and through, Eric had always taken me on long, meandering drives north when we’d come over.
“You have so many middle-of-nowhere boring drives at home. I don’t understand why you love it here so much.
” He’d say whenever I’d waxed on poetically about them.
He needed the action of the city. I craved the silence of the countryside.
I could practically hear him when I opened the wedding invitation to see the location.
“She fucking would. Well, if I’m forced to be in the most boring place on earth, at least I’ll get to be there with the sexiest woman.” He would have said it while laughing and pulling me to him. The last of his words murmured against my temple as his hands wandered to my ass.
I snort a laugh as I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, grateful that thoughts of him no longer send me spiralling.