Page 78 of Never Let You Go

Minutes later, we’re in the kitchen, and I’m going through the motions of making her a hot chocolate to even out the bowl of cold cereal she’s eating. It’s a short walk to school, but temperatures are in the single digits. She’ll need all the warmth she can get. I know, it’s a lot of milk, but I’m short on ideas. So, cereal and hot chocolate.

While she’s eating, I brew myself a strong coffee. Between the four a.m. start time and the hot makeout session with her father, my eyelids are fluttering already, and the sun is barely up.

I don’t know when or how it happens, but halfway into a quiet breakfast, I hear a squeal and a wail. Skye’s hot chocolate is splattered all over her sweater and onto her pants.

“Oh, nooooo!” she cries.

I wipe the mess off the table with paper towels, but that’s not what we’re concerned with here.

Skye pulls on her soiled sweater. “Whu-whu-whuddama gonna do?” she sobs.

That, I think I can help with. Been there myself more than once.

I bring her upstairs, and while she changes her pants, I run the sweater under water, pat it dry between two towels, then get to work on it with the hairdryer while Skye keeps sniffling. That does the trick.

“All right, Skye, look! No more crying.” I hand her the clean and dry sweater. She puts it on and hugs my legs.

Crisis averted without adding to Christopher’s load of stress. I’ll call it a win.

But it was a close call, so I crouch to her level and lift her chin. “Having good luck clothes or objects helps, but remember that you are the one who gets to decide what your good luck charm is. You can change it. It’s what you believe that gives the sweater its power. Understand?”

She frowns but nods, humoring me.

“You’re the wizard of your own life. Don’t you ever forget that. You have the power.”

Look at me, doling out lessons to a six-year-old I can’t even follow myself.

She wipes her tears and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says.

Minutes later, I take her tiny hand in mine as we walk outside. Our gloves make it hard to feel the connection, but it’s there. She doesn’t try to remove herself, and something deep and strong churns in me. She trusts me. Counts on me. Looks up to me.

It’s another bluebird day, with the sun shining low on the horizon, the snow glittering all around us, and the sky a pale blue this early, with promises of deepening during the day.

So gorgeous it hurts.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the gift that this moment is. A moment that won’t last. I take it all in and store it in my little bank of happy memories for later. For when I’ll need memories of happy times.

We get to school with a few minutes to spare. I crouch and Skye wraps her little arms around me to say goodbye. “Good luck with the casting, sweetie pie,” I whisper in her ear.

She surprises me by kissing my cheek before running into her classroom.

As I walk out of the school building, I wave at Emma helping Caroline out of her car. It’s a small town. I need to play nice with everyone, even if Emma is not my first choice for making friends.

I feel happy and light today.

Walking back toward The Green, I make a detour to buy some flowers. I want to bring my happy into the bakery, and a bright bouquet of flowers will do just that.

I know it makes Christopher happy.

On my way out of the shop, I bump into Emma again.

“Do you have time for coffee?” she asks me. She has perfectly coiffed hair despite the weather requiring hats. Her makeup is right on point, including lipstick the exact shade I remember too acutely being on Christopher’s shirt. She even has the kind of teeth described as pearly in kissing books.

She’s so perfect it’s intimidating.

Me? I got up at four and barely glanced at myself in the mirror. Granted, that hot make out session with Christopher did make me feel like a million bucks, and my morale is off the charts right now, but come on. I need to stretch that capital of self-confidence as far as I can.

So, coffee with Emma? Maybe not just yet. Plus, I’m getting a weird vibe from her.

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