Chapter 4 #2
He’d coincidentally been sitting next to Maddy’s father, and afterward, had nonchalantly proposed they all go out for pizza to celebrate the win.
She had been equally mortified and grateful.
Their dads quickly became best friends, which was how the St. Claire’s ended up a core part of the Sterling Cup every Fourth of July.
And since he knew, there had been no point in keeping her crush from Chloe.
They were a tight-knit trio, and it had felt good to be able to talk openly about Maddy, which she had.
A lot. She was aware, even back then, that she had sounded like a broken record.
Everything was Maddy this and Maddy that, and Maddy wore a new blazer today that drove her crazy.
They had teased her, of course, but they had also comforted her when Maddy had gotten a boyfriend junior year, and when she found out Maddy was moving away for college, and especially when Maddy had left the week after graduation—two months ahead of schedule, never to be heard from again. Until yesterday, that was.
So it didn’t surprise her that news of Maddy’s return had already made it back to Chloe and that Chloe would have…opinions about it.
“I’m fine,” Aspen told Chloe preemptively, leaning against the grooming station.
“I didn’t ask.” Chloe grabbed the hose and rinsed the poodle’s back legs. Her hands moved with the efficient tenderness she brought to everything—dogs, Maisie’s scraped knees, conversations she knew her sister didn’t want to have. “How long is she here?”
Aspen crossed her arms. “Six weeks. Until after the Cup.”
Chloe’s eyes stayed on the poodle, continuing to rinse. “And then she’s going back to LA?”
“Mhm.” Aspen knew what Chloe was doing. Bringing up the inevitability of Maddy leaving, just like Maddy had done at eighteen. Like their mother had done ten years before that.
Their mother had never adapted to parenthood the way their father had, always jetting off to Europe with her girlfriends—yacht trips in the summer and skiing in the Alps in the winter.
Then one day, Aspen had sat out of sight on the stairs when her mother had just returned from one of her trips, and she listened to her mother tell her father that she had met someone and was moving to Mallorca. And then she was gone.
Chloe had only been three, too young to understand what was going on.
Two months later, in her pajamas at the kitchen table with a coloring book open in front of her, Chloe had looked up and asked when mommy would be back from her trip.
Aspen saw the pain on her father’s face as he figured out how to tell a three-year-old her mother had left them and wouldn’t be back.
And Aspen had decided in that moment, with a certainty that had never wavered, that she would never be like her mother.
That she would never abandon her family. And she hadn’t.
Chloe turned off the water and dried her hands on a towel. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.” Chloe tossed the towel at Aspen’s face, and Aspen caught it.
Chloe gave Aspen the look she’d been giving her since they were kids—the one that said I love you enormously and don’t want to see you get hurt.
“I’m always careful.” Aspen tossed the towel back at Chloe.
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.” The corner of Chloe’s mouth ticked up.
The poodle shook, spraying water across both of them. Aspen shrieked and jumped backward. Chloe didn’t flinch. And then they burst into laughter.
Maisie wandered out from the office. iPad under one arm, bare feet padding across the concrete.
She crossed to Aspen and leaned against her hip, wrapping her little arms around Aspen’s waist from the side.
For a moment, she said nothing, just held on.
Aspen wrapped her arm around her back and gently rubbed.
Chloe caught her eye over Maisie’s head with an adoring look. They’d been able to communicate with a single look since they were kids. She knew they were both thinking about what a sweet kid Maisie was and how much they loved that she was so open with her affection.
Maisie pulled back just enough to tilt her head back and look up at her. “Aunt Aspen, can we get shaved ice?”
Aspen smiled down at her. “Of course. What flavor?”
Maisie didn't hesitate. “Tiger’s blood. Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Aspen smiled and slightly shook her head, exchanging another look with Chloe. Maisie may be sweet, but she was getting sassier by the day.
Aspen grabbed hold of Maisie’s shoulders and rotated her body to face the front. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you some shaved ice.”
* * *
Maisie pressed the crosswalk button—a long-standing arrangement between them, leftover from the years when Aspen had lifted her to reach it. Now that Maisie was tall enough to hit it on her own, she had inherited full pressing rights and felt strongly about exercising them.
The afternoon was clear and bright, the way Coronado afternoons usually were in early June when the morning clouds burned off.
“Did you know an octopus has three hearts?” Maisie pressed the crosswalk button three times as if to emphasize her point.
Aspen’s hand settled on Maisie’s shoulder as the traffic light flicked to yellow. “I thought you were on mantis shrimps and great whites today. When did you possibly have time to also watch something about octopuses?”
“Octopi.” Maisie corrected.
“That’s the one.”
“Last night.” Maisie shrugged easily. “I just hadn’t gotten to tell you about it yet.”
Aspen bit back a smile. “Ah.”
The walk signal illuminated, and they crossed, approaching the shaved-iced truck parked across the street.
The kid working the food truck scooped the ice into two paper cones, drowned them in red Tiger’s Blood syrup, slid them across the window with two wooden spoons, and went back to his phone.
They walked a few yards down the sidewalk and sat on a bench. Within four seconds, Maisie had dripped three drops of red syrup onto her white shorts.
“Your mom’s going to love that,” Aspen pointed her head at the drops as she carefully took her own bite. Cold syrup and crushed ice melted on her tongue.
Maisie shrugged. “Mom’s good at getting stains out.” She spooned another bite into her mouth. “Aunt Aspen.”
“Yes?” Aspen noted the pensive shift in her tone but knew there was a very low chance the topic would actually be something serious.
“We need to talk.” Maisie paused. “About my next birthday.”
Aspen knew her niece well. She tried to hide her smile and match Maisie’s serious expression. “Your birthday is ten months away, Mais.”
Maisie threw up her hands. “That’s practically nothing! And it’s a big one!”
“Nine is a big one?” Aspen may not have been an expert on children’s milestones, but she was fairly certain that nothing eventful happened at age nine.
Maisie's eyes went wide. “It’s my last single-digit number! I’m gonna be a pre-teen.”
Aspen laughed. “You are not going to be a pre-teen at nine.”
Maisie shrugged. “Practically.”
Aspen had learned, when Maisie was just two years old, that she had to be careful with what she said around Maisie because Maisie loved to repeat words she had heard Aspen use. She didn’t always understand what they meant though, and sometimes Aspen could use that to her benefit.
“You’re thinking of a different word,” Aspen said as matter-of-factly as she could. “Practically is the word for when you’re trying to get away with stuff.”
Maisie scowled up at her. “It is not.”
Aspen smiled around her wooden spoon. Guess she understood that one.
Maisie then launched into three rapid-fire birthday concepts with increasing implausibility—a tide-pool party at La Jolla; a sleepover at the aquarium with the entire staff invited; and a deep-sea submarine rental.
Aspen made the kind of noises she had made for the past three years whenever Maisie pitched birthday concepts. Uh-huh. Mm-hmm. We’ll see.
As much as she didn’t believe nine to be a milestone number, she also couldn’t believe that Maisie was actually going to be nine. Aspen could remember the day she found out Chloe was pregnant so clearly.
She had been twenty-five, three months post-graduation, three weeks post-passing her national exam, and three days post-accepting an offer for a sports residency program.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her tiny studio apartment, studying to get her Emergency Medical Responder Certification, which was a requirement before starting her residency the following month.