Page 1 of Ice Cold Hearts

1

EMILY

Embrace the moment while it lasts, Emily. She’s not always going to want to spend time with you, I sternly remind myself as tiny toddler fingers jab at my closed eyes.

“Audrey, sweetheart, are you almost done? I don’t want our tea to get cold.”

Her exasperated sigh is identical to the one the girl at the drive-through gave me this morning when I asked if I could have extra bacon on my breakfast sandwich.

“Mama,” she says patronizingly, “the tea is pretend. My magination makes it stay hot.”

“Imagination,” I correct.

There’s that sigh again.

“That’s what I said. My magination. Now close your eyes for sparkles.”

“Are you sure we need glitter? The makeup is sparkly all by itself,” I say hopefully.

Audrey glares at me so fiercely it makes me wonder if a teenager is trapped inside my four-year-old.

“Glitter it is, then,” I say, forcing a smile.

After no fewer than three outfit changes from the Mommy and Me dress-up box, Audrey is satisfied and we finally get comfortable at the tea table. Well, she’s comfortable, at least. This chair hardly fits a regular-sized woman. I’ve got no chance at all with my curves.

Even with the chair digging into my hips, this is still the best part of my day. I love watching the way her eyes light up as she tells me what her friends are up to. Her dimples flash in and out of sight as she takes me through her day at preschool.

Those dimples are the only thing she got from her father. Some days, I’m grateful she has a piece of him, but most days, I feel like they’re a ticking time bomb. One day, the non-answer answers aren’t going to be enough for her, and then what will I do? My own parents don’t even?—

“Mama, I have portant news.” Audrey’s serious tone pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Yes, baby?”

She folds her hands and sits up straight.

Please, don’t tell me you’ve just had an accident, I silently beg. I can’t deal with any more bodily fluids today.

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” she announces.

I choke back my laugh, “You are? To who?”

“Whom.” Audrey corrects.

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

“Teacher says who is for owls,” she says matter-of-factly

You can’t say important or imagination but you know the correct usage of whom? Seriously? Maybe Teacher should focus on vowel sounds instead of teaching you to correct my grammar.

Emily, I scold myself, she’s a child. Your child. Is this really the hill you want to die on?

I take a breath and let it go slowly. There are more important issues to address here.

“Am I invited?” I ask.

Her little brow furrows. “I don’t think you’re allowed.”

My face scrunches, mirroring hers “Because I’ll be at work? Or is there another reason? Do you think I won’t like the groom?”

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