Chapter 26 #2
Quiet sobs echoed from down the hall. Reed stood there, scratching his neck, looking exhausted and so, so lost. Nothing like the deliciously confident man who pulled me into the alley and kissed me so unabashedly.
Yet somehow, this version of Reed was just as gorgeous.
When he spoke, it was gravelly. “Do you want to bring it in to her?”
Drawing on my memory from when I visited before, I followed the hallway of framed photos to Abi’s room. From the doorway, I was welcomed with a burst of floor-to-ceiling colors, but no Abigail.
A strong hand settled on the small of my back, and I sucked in a breath, not expecting Reed’s touch.
He nudged me forward, and we walked farther down to the room at the end of the hall.
When I peered in, a child-size shape was squished in a floral comforter, buried in ruffly throw pillows, her whimpers muffled.
“Abigail, hi. It’s Ms. Vilotta.” She quieted but didn’t move, so I continued to creep toward her little form. “I found someone that misses you dearly.”
Her head peeked up, and I handed her fox to her. She reached for it, pulled it into her, and hugged the fox under her blanket.
Once she had Cheeto, she didn’t budge. I turned to leave, but her sobs returned. Glancing up at Reed, frozen in the doorway, his brows pulled together in confusion. She'd had a hard morning and so many emotions to let loose. Then I remembered…
“Hey, Abi.” I rubbed the spot under the blanket that resembled her foot.
“When I found Cheeto, she was reading this book.” I set my purse down on the bed and pulled it out.
Once again, she quieted, and her head peeked out from the pile.
Her normally bright green eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red blotchy cheeks, but the recognition on her face gave me hope.
“But… I don’t think she knows how to read,” I said, as I leaned in and set the book on the bed. Abigail’s eyes perked up slightly, and then another frown fell upon her face. She pulled Cheeto out from under the covers and sat up, Cheeto in her lap, the book in her hands.
A glint of relief shone in Reed’s eyes as we made eye contact, staring at each other for a moment. Shit, not good. Staring. Not good.
“But I don’t know how to read either.” Abi’s voice pulled me from the grip Reed had on me. Now I was looking at nearly identical green eyes, but these ones looked up to me with hope. “Will you read it to us?”
In any other scenario, I wouldn’t think twice about sharing my time reading to a child. Children’s literacy was a passion of mine, and that was why the book that was sitting with the fox sang to my soul. I knew how important that story could be for a child mourning.
But Reed’s stare draping over me, the tinge of his days-old kiss still tingling faintly on my lips, made this a far more tangled story time.
Shuffling my feet, I tried to decide where the balance sat between friends, teacher, and… more. Because I was trying really hard to avoid the “more,” and Reed was continuously yanking me off-kilter.
I was about to say we would read the book on Monday in class, but one look at Abigail’s tear-stained face, and I was done for. I couldn’t leave her hanging when what she needed was something I could give so easily.
“Sure, Abi. I can read it for you before I go.” A small smile sprung through the desperation that covered her face moments ago.
Picking the book back up, I opened the title page as Abigail wiggled herself into her spot on the bed and hugged Cheeto to her.
“No, Ms. Vilotta, here.” She patted the spot next to her on the bed.
Oh boy. I twisted my toe in the carpet, trying not to show my uncertainty.
Sweet Abigail didn’t know that my hesitation had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with professionalism and that whole this and more issue.
I took another peek over to see Reed with his arms crossed, leaning into the doorframe.
He hadn’t so much as budged, other than the tiniest upward tilt of his lips.
Seeing that slight change in his exhausted expression created a fizz in my chest, one that tickled its way up my throat and tingled behind my cheeks.
A comfy, pillow-smothered story time actually sounded delightful.
So I climbed up, scooted next to Abi, and sat crisscross.
I turned to the first page and began to read.
Abigail placed her little hand on my lap. “No, wait. Uncle Reed.” She patted the spot on her other side. My eyes locked with his. He was swaying back and forth against the doorway. Discomfort? Dread? I couldn’t read him.
“Please?” The torment in Abigail’s voice from a few minutes ago was replaced with a confident persistence.
Reed’s head fell to his chest, and the muscles in his jaw squeezed. He ran his hand through his hair, but he crept to the opposite side of the bed. His movements made it seem like his shoes were made of cement, and his face paled. I heard his loud exhale as the bed jarred.
Abigail scooted over his way a tiny bit, then leaned her head against him.
She gave his thigh a little pat. Reed sprawled his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles.
I watched his feet sway back and forth for a moment before I remembered I was supposed to be reading to a child and a stuffed fox—and now a grown man.
Holding the book out in front of me so Abigail—and Reed—could see the pictures, I started the story.
It began with a set of twins being afraid during a storm and running to their mother’s room.
I worried Abigail would get upset, but as I turned each page, she nestled in further.
She wiggled herself into a position mimicking her uncle’s.
Her legs were splayed in front of her, ankles crossed, with her feet tucked under Reed’s knees.
She lowered her way diagonally and nestled her head on my arm, making contact with both of us and squeezing Cheeto into her chest.
The heart of the story began to take place, the mother in the book explaining to her children that they were never without her.
That an invisible string always connected them to those they loved.
Through each page, I had to clear my throat and blink back tears.
I’d read it many times, but it never hit home more than reading it with Abigail.
She was so strong, happily listening, probably imagining her own invisible string. This was why Cheeto chose this book.
I paused toward the end of the story to take in a full breath.
Abigail looked at me, calmness and hope replacing the agony that was there when I arrived.
I sighed in relief and booped her nose, causing her to giggle.
Reed shifted in his spot, making the bed move, but his eyes were closed, his head propped up on the pillows.
I continued to read, but a little quieter and a little slower, taking more pauses. Letting the peace in the room linger as long as possible.
As soon as I reluctantly squeaked out the words “The End,” Reed shot up like someone had electrocuted him and was at the doorway, heading out. So much for the lingering. I thought he was fast asleep.
Time to go. Point taken.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, reaching my hand out to Abigail. “You and Cheeto ready to go play? I bet she missed you, and you have some catching up to do.” Her smile lit up the room.
When I made my move toward the hall, Reed stood smiling just outside the doorway. An odd conflict of emotions filled the space between us.
I walked behind him down the hallway, Abigail at my feet, nearly skipping, happy as could be. I admired the resilience. A spirit so vibrant, it couldn’t be kept stifled for long.
Once we arrived in the living room, I expected Reed to veer toward the door to see me out.
Instead, he offered me something to drink.
He rubbed at his scruff. “I’m sorry, I probably should have offered that before.
” His hopeful gaze warmed my insides. Any part of me that thought he was trying to get rid of me quickly did a one-eighty.
“Water would be perfect,” I answered before I could think any further about extending my time here. On this nonschool day. Curling up in bed for a story with my student and her, um, parent. I needed to google fraternization when I got home.
Reed darted toward the kitchen and called over his shoulder, “Abbers, you didn’t eat breakfast. Do you want a bowl of cereal, or are you ready for lunch?”
Abi lit up like a Christmas tree, and the tree topper was a light bulb. “Uncle Reed! You promised we’d go to Mommy’s special ice cream shop today.”
Reed turned her way with shock coloring his face and his shoulders hiked up to his ears. The look of an adult who had made a promise that he hoped his child would forget about. Not this child. Not today.
Before he could form any response, she ran to him and tugged on his arm, puppy-dog eyes fully engaged. “Can Ms. Vilotta come too?” She looked up at him, and I swear those big green eyes worked their magic before he could even process her question.
His shoulders melted in resignation. “Sure, Abbers, that’d be…” There it was. He looked up to me, then back down to Abi. “Well, Ms. Vilotta might have her own plans today.”
She turned her prowess of adorableness on me. She became a five-year-old ice cream temptress, bright green gaze zeroed in on her victim. I was a goner. I scrunched up my nose, frozen in my predicament, and peered at Reed. Welp.
Another pair of beautiful emeralds were set on me, growing wider and puppy-doggier in expectation of my answer. “This ice cream shop is outside of town.” It’s not likely we’d run into anyone we know. He didn’t have to speak the words for me to hear them.
I stooped down, face-to-face with Abigail. “Okaaaaay, I do love ice cream. But do they have strawberry?”
She squealed and nodded fiercely, then named off another ten flavors that were her favorite.
When I stood and turned to Reed, his eyes were soft, and he patted his chest in thanks.
I reached out and brushed his arm. Something made me want to give him all the reassurance in the world. And also a nap.
“We can take my car if you want?” I offered. “Car nap?”
Abigail was headed to her room but sprang back at us. “No naps! I’m big now!” Her arms were crossed and her lips were pursed. This girl meant business.
Not knowing the actual rule for naps on the weekends, I turned to Reed. His eyes were tired, and he shook his arms in front of him. “No, no, Abbers, no naps, I promise. Uncle Reed needs a nap. That’s what Cici was saying.”
“Who’s Cici?” Abi’s face crinkled as she looked between us. Oh, this would be fun.
Reed looked unfazed as he pointed my way. “Ms. Vilotta is Cici. That’s her name.”
Abigail shrugged. “Oh.” Then she headed back into her room as she called out, “I’m getting my ice cream dress. Don’t peek, it’s a surprise.”
Reed lifted his brows at me and rubbed his chin for a moment as we both paused and took in what we just committed to. He probably regretted agreeing to drive out of town. I was definitely worried about my decision to spend so much time with him. Them.
“I should go and put on my ice cream dress too.” He did a silly little curtsy, pulling on his pajama pants.
The dark circles under his eyes momentarily disappeared as they flared to life.
Mischief fired in them, and the crinkles at the corners deepened.
I forgot how handsome he was when his face truly lit up.
I nearly swooned out loud, but thankfully, a giggle came out instead.
A coy smile spread across my lips. “I didn’t know there was a dress code. My ice cream dress is at home.”
Reed scanned me up and down, an eyebrow quirked. The most flirtatious look I’d seen from him since we were happily cocooned in lust months ago. “Maybe we should stop by your place and get it.”
Suddenly, I wished I really had an ice cream dress. Like a slutty ice cream Halloween costume. I was sure that was a thing. Add slutty ice cream costume to today’s google list.
We kept eye contact for a moment, frozen in a heated stare, until a cry of desperation came from Abi’s room. “Uncle Reeeeeed.”
He flopped his head back momentarily, rolled his neck, then took a deep breath. Never a moment’s peace for this man, yet he toughed it out. On his own.
“Hey, I’ll go help her,” I offered. I turned into Abigail’s room, and sure enough, there was fluffy rainbow tulle, mint chocolate chip–colored sleeves, and ribbons flailing all over the place.
Whimpers and groans echoed from this fabric monster.
“Oh dear…” I muttered dramatically, “I thought I heard Abigail in here, but all I see is this weird ice cream creature.”
The fabric stilled and sounded with a giggle.
“Hey you, ice cream blob, did you eat Abigail?”
The disarrayed dress shook with her laughter. “Ms. Vilotta! Help, it’s me.”
“Oh no, you have been eaten. Don’t worry, Abi.
Hang on. Maybe I can tickle this blob, and it will burp you out.
” I began patting her from under the dress, first her head, then her shoulder, then her arm.
I tugged on the dress, looking for the top hole.
When I found it, I pulled it over her head with a big burp sound as she peeked through.
“There you are!”
Abi laughed and wiggled as I helped her fit her arms through the sleeves and pulled the waistband down. Finally, the dress was on, and both of our faces were flushed from laughter.
Reed peeked in, glancing around with curiosity, and then a big grin spread across his face—the one that hypnotized me every time it made its rare appearance. “Where is Abigail? And who is that ice cream princess, Cici?”
Abi giggled and ran up to her uncle, slamming into his knees and shaking his shirt. “It’s me, Uncle Reed.”
“Well then, your royal carriage awaits.”