Page 64 of Lillian

The swirl of fear and anxiety melts away. “You jerk,” I mumble, pinch him lightly on the side, and try to escape.

Another insufferable laugh. “I’m sorry.” He pulls me back and tilts my chin up, swooping down for a kiss. “I love you, more.” The fucker winks at me.

“I wuv wu most!” Grace garbles up at us semi-incoherently with cheeks filled to the brim and her entire pancake gone. As if that was all we were waiting on, she jumps out of her seat and jumbles a string of words out through her full mouth that sounds like,I’m ready, let’s go!

“Chew your food, Grace,” I admonish, just imagining her choking. “We still need to get bags together.”

“Okay!” She disappears off to her bedroom. Two minutes later, as I’m putting together some just-in-case medicines into a plastic ziplock bag, she sprints back into the kitchen with her backpack on, two little hands holding her straps tight.

All I can do is sigh. “Looks like we’re all playing hooky today.”

Not even half an hour into the drive, Grace fell asleep in her carseat. Transferring that to Lincoln’s car was a bitch, but he really wanted us to drive with him, insisting that he would be more than happy to drive us back Sunday.

Who was I to argue with being a passenger princess all weekend? Plus, avoiding city traffic is a huge win.

The music in the car is turned down low, so I’m able to tune it out.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Lincoln asks.

I haven’t told him yet. He had those issues with his sister this week and a lot on his mind. I didn’t want to add anything to his plate. But he’s asking now, and I’m not going to lie to him.

“Yasmine called this week. The judge reviewed Grace’s case and changed our next hearing to a change of circumstance.” Even though Grace is sleeping, I keep my voice low in case she wakes up. I don’t want her overhearing us.

“What,” Lincoln says back, shock slackening his face.

“We knew it might happen. With her mo—Talia—keeping to visitation.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” His words are low, but he doesn’t seem mad. More distraught than anything.

“You were busy with your sister,” I start, and as he looks like he’s going to argue, I cut him off. “Plus the lawyer you hired says he thinks we still have a strong case. So I didn’t want to worry you for no reason.”Even though I’m worried enough for the both of us, I don’t say.

He blows out a breath and gives me a side-eye before turning back to the road. “I get it. In the future though, I want to know these things. Everything.”

My smile is small, but I nod and look back out the window.

“When is it?” he asks.

“A week and a half from now. Not next Wednesday, but the one after,” I tell him.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” I reach over and grab his hand in thanks.

Sensing that I don’t want to talk about it anymore, he uses the steering wheel controls to turn the volume up on the radio a notch or two, and I go back to staring out the window for the rest of the drive as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand in silent comfort.

We gotinto Phoenix around noon, having skipped the arcade because Grace was still warm and Lillian didn’t want her around other kids. For her own safety and theirs. It was something I would have never even thought about.

So as soon as Lillian got in and took Grace back to the bathroom, I pulled my phone out and ordered a few books. One about being a new dad, one on all I need to know about toddlers, and a third about raising girls.

It was something I did when I first asked Becca to move in with me when she turned eighteen. I wanted to know as much about bipolar disorder as I could and how best to support her while she is with me—however long that takes.

I wonder if Lillian would be open to reading that material.

Not that I’m asking her to permanently move in with me already. Even though she did finally admit she loved me still—or again—I’m not sure she’s ready for that kind of commitment just yet. As I think it, though, I know she would read everything shecould if I told her I already had. The worry she already showed this week for Becca when we talked each night only reaffirms it.

Footsteps coming from the hall have me turning to see Lillian walk around the corner without Grace. I give her a questioning look, and she shrugs with a loving eye roll.

“She doesn’t want to hang out with us. For some reason she loves her bedroom.” There is a teasing tone to her words, and pride fills my chest at being able to make them both happy. I picked out everything in that room myself, and Grace loves it.

That feels pretty fucking great.

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