Chapter 33
Reed
Iknew as soon as I walked through Daisy’s door that Abigail was fine. Her bubbly voice talked animatedly about something completely incomprehensible. Was there some kindergartner language app I needed to use to translate?
Daisy greeted me with a smile, reassuring me even further. “She’s been talking nonstop about donut balls.” Ah, yes. Baking with Cienna.
The words “enjoy your little donuts” swept through my mind, nothing warm or sweet about Jill’s tone. As delusional as she was, she saw Cici and me. Who knew what kind of drama she’d create with that bit of ammo.
“Abigail,” I called out, grabbing her backpack from the entryway, “I have pizza… and you need to eat dinner before bombolini, so—” I didn’t even finish my thought before she came blazing through the house, yanked her backpack from my arm, and zipped out the door.
I thanked Daisy and chased after Abigail.
In no time, she had raced through the two yards separating our house from Daisy’s and was running toward Cici, who was climbing out of her car.
“Ciciiii.” The squeal was probably heard for miles.
She clamped her arms around Cici’s waist with a big squeeze, and Cici patted her head and smiled down at her.
My relief was indescribable. I knew a bloody nose from some punk kid wasn’t the end of the world.
I knew Abigail was a tough cookie, and I feared for William’s face now that he’d messed with her.
But there was something so powerless about knowing she was hurt and I wasn’t there.
Did she cry for her mom? Did she need me then?
That feeling in my gut started to sneak back in, but as I watched Abi and Cici hold hands and walk toward the front door, comfort replaced it.
Somehow, I got swindled into letting Abigail nibble on pizza while she rolled the dough into plump drops.
Actually, I knew exactly how. Puppy-dog eyes.
From the two most beautiful faces in my world.
They won. While the girls hummed along and alternated shoving their mouths with pizza and sweet dough, I sat on the couch with my laptop.
It felt odd, doing something on my own while Abi was still awake, hearing chipper sounds from the other room. Not because it was normally just Abi and me, but because I hadn’t heard happy-home sounds in so long.
As I mindlessly scrolled through my current editing project, I heard Cici ask, “How are you feeling about meeting your grandmother tomorrow?” Tomorrow. Chills traveled up my spine, and I tapped random keys on my laptop to rid my fingers of their sudden numbness.
I waited for a response, and after a long pause, a muffled answer came from Abi, who was clearly trying to talk with a mouthful of food. Cici laughed, and it tickled my senses all the way from the other room. “Finish chewing, silly goose.”
There were some awkward, jumbled giggle sounds, and then Abi’s voice became clear.
“I’m excited.” A bit of hesitation tinted her voice, but the truth still sprang free.
“Ziggy-zaggy monkey bar park was too far, so Uncle Reed said Nina is going to take me to Spaghetti Factory, and we’re gonna eat there with my grandma.
I like it there ’cause you can slurp the noodles really good. ”
I flopped my head back on the couch’s armrest. There was no way in hell she’d be getting away with slurping noodles.
My mother would think that was absolutely disgraceful.
I almost wished I could be there to see the horrified look on her face, but then I remembered that Abigail would be taking the brunt in that scenario.
I made a mental note to remind her about table manners, despite every part of me that just wanted her to be a silly kiddo.
The sounds of clanking spoons and dishes took over the discussion until Abi’s little voice came clear through the clatter. “What do you think she’ll be like?”
I closed my eyes, hating that Abigail would have to find out on her own soon enough. But I was grateful to have Cici here to answer the question, rather than have it directed to me. It was hard to lie about someone you loathed.
“Well,” Cici drew out, “grandmas are just people like you and me. Just, um, older. And she is probably just as nervous and excited as you are.”
“She was my mommy’s mommy, right?”
My breath caught in my throat. Without warning, tears welled in my eyes at her innocent words. Cici’s sigh was heavy, and I suddenly felt bad for her taking on the burden of this conversation.
Cici must have nodded because Abi continued, “Uncle Reed’s mommy too?” Another pause, then the sound of the oven opening, clanking, and shutting. “That means she has to be nice, since she was their mommy.”
This wasn’t a question, but more of a conclusion Abi solidified for herself.
Her assessment of the situation was a testament to her empathy and kindness, and she was right.
Deep within my mother was a parent who was nice, loving, and supportive…
and I hoped that would be the woman Abi would meet, that Bruce hadn’t squashed any last vestiges of the mother I’d once known.
Cici clapped her hands. “Okay, should we get a coloring book and color while we wait for these to bake?”
Abi zoomed down the hall, then returned less than a minute later, pages flapping and crayons dropping like breadcrumbs. “Can we color right here so we can watch? Like you did when you were little with your grandma?”
I didn’t have to look to know how much Abi recalling that made Cici smile. I heard the flapping of the coloring books and could visualize the two of them spread out on the kitchen floor, coloring in ponies and pandas as the little round pastries began to fluff up.
Quiet and calm filled the house. Maybe it was the anticipation of a delicious treat superseding the anticipation of tomorrow’s visit, but everything felt manageable. They felt okay. Even good. I closed my eyes as the smell of baked pastry and contentment filled the rooms.
Something cold splashed on my chest, waking me in an instant.
“Oopsie. Here, Uncle Reed.”
An overfilled mug of milk splashed over the edge as Abi shakily held it out to me. Cici came in behind her with a plate of doughy little delicacies, smiling ruefully at me wiping the front of my shirt.
She set the bombolini on the coffee table as I secured my mug from Abigail’s hands. “Hope it’s okay. I told Abi we could watch one Super Kitties episode and have a bomb—”
Cici was interrupted by a very inconspicuous whisper. “Two bombas.”
Abi plopped and wiggled into her spot next to me, and Cici sat next to her.
“Okay, yes. Two bombas.” I nodded, still groggy.
How long did I sleep? I glanced at my watch.
An hour had gone by. I blinked a few times and mouthed “Thank you” to Cici.
She smiled as Abi snuggled up with her, already halfway through a bombolini, powdered sugar around her mouth.
Tomorrow would be hard. But at least Abi would come home to this.
This was her home. Where she belonged. And it’d be a cold day in hell before I let anyone take that away from her.