Page 29 of Wanting a Family Man

“Oh, g’day, Cloe. Come on in,” Emma called. “Is Trystan with you?”

“Right here, yes. Good morning.”

“Did you see Sophie and Logan?” Emma asked him as he came into the kitchen behind Cloe. Em was feeding Storm in her high chair.

“We did.”

While Cloe stood where Storm could see her, smiling and offering a small wave, he bent to kiss the baby’s fuzzy hair.

“What do you think of this news. Hmm?” he asked Storm. “You get a new sister-in-law.Youget a sister-in-law.” He pointed at Em. “I get one. Where’s Reid?” He looked around.

“Shower.”

He noticed Cloe was hovering awkwardly, pressing a smile onto her lips.

Trystan heard his own words and wanted to swallow them back.

“Reid and Logan got the boxes down from the attic,” Emma said to Cloe. “They’re in the rumpus room. You don’t have to do anything with them right now. I just wanted you to know they’re there whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks. I might go have a quick look. Tiff was always too tall for me to wear many of her hand-me-downs, but…” She trailed off and plucked at her shirt. “I’ve been traveling light.”

“Help yourself.” Emma nodded toward the stairs into the basement.

“Thanks.” Cloe slipped away.

“Everything okay?” Emma asked in a whisper, dragging Trystan’s attention back to her.

He lifted his shoulder philosophically. “She’s been through a lot.”

“Like? Has she told you anything?”

“Enough.” He closed one eye, letting her see his reluctance to betray her confidence.

“Hmm.” Emma gave all her attention to scraping the last bits of pablum from the small bowl before tucking the spoon into Storm’s mouth.

Trystan wet a cloth to wipe Storm’s face and hands, making her squawk with protest.

“Are you hiking today?” Emma asked. “I need groceries so I was going to meet Reid at the pub for lunch, unless you want me to come?”

“No, enjoy your date.” He released the tray and Storm forgave him for the wet cloth, lifting her arms to come to him. “Should we take Auntie Cloe hiking?” he asked as he started to growl into her stomach. A whiff of her filled diaper stopped him. “Oof. We know where breakfast has gone, don’t we?”

He took her upstairs to change her.

*

What a nightmare.

Cloe buried her face in a cashmere sweater that smelled of geranium and jasmine, pepper and salty air.

Every piece of clothing was laden with the fragrance of her sister’s perfume and makeup. Every texture Cloe hugged into herself was an embrace of a ghost. Every vivid color belied the reality that Tiffany was gone, gone, gone.

Cloe knew she had to stop crying. Her whole body felt wrung out. Her throat ached and her eyes were on fire, but she couldn’t stem the tears or the urge to reach for the next pair of linen slacks, the next mesh pullover, and the next silk scarf.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Trystan suddenly loomed in front of her, Storm clutched in his arm.

“Oh God.” Mortified, she buried her face in the fringed scarf.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he chided, crouching before her. “But here. It’s really hard to feel sad when you’re holding this little ground squirrel. Take her.”

---