Page 51 of In All My Dreams

“Is he your boyfriend?” She wags her eyebrows at me as a giant, wicked smile spreads across her face.

“Oh, Auden. You are too young to even know what that means. But, I guess, maybe he is. We will see,” I say quickly, my stomach twisting in knots because I know tonight is going to change everything.

“I think he should be your boyfriend, and then he can be my dad. I think I would like that very much,” she says, another loud yawn forcing its way out of her small body. Her admissionmakes me feel like the worst mother in the world. She could have had a dad this entire time, except I’m a selfish, horrible excuse of a person, and I took that from both of them. I send a silent prayer to whoever is listening, begging Ian and Auden both for forgiveness for my selfishness.

I kiss her forehead and place my palm against her cheek. “You are such an old soul in such a tiny body. I love you so much, Auden. Never forget that, okay?”

“I love you most,” Auden says with a smile before she closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into her pillow. “Good night, Mama.”

“Good night, Auden,” I whisper as a strangled sob gets caught in my throat. “Horton, you keep her safe. You hear me, mister?” I grab Horton from the end of the bed and set him next to Auden. She wraps him in a hug immediately and giggles as I walk out.

“Horton, you gotta keep Mommy safe, too,” she tells him in a hushed voice before I turn the light off, leaving them bathed in colorful shapes from the night-light.

God, I love that kid. While the mistakes of my past haunt me endlessly, there isn’t a single thing I’d change because they all led me to her.

Now it’s time I own up to those mistakes, even if every bone in my body is screaming at me to keep all these dark secrets to myself.

I hurry back to my bedroom and grab my mother’s diary from the dresser. There’s something oddly comforting about having this little blue book of hers close to me again. I hug it close to my chest as I take some deeper, steadying breaths.

It’s time to go tell Ian about Auden.

And to finally tell him that I’m the reason his sister is dead.

There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door just as I grab the handle to leave. Before I have a chance to open it, the handleturns slowly under my palm. I pull the door open, expecting to see Auden, or even Ian.

But instead, I’m met with the creepy smile of Mr. Foster.

“Mind if I talk to you, Peaches?” Mr. Foster asks as he steps into my bedroom. He smells of expensive cologne with an underlying smell of sweat mixed in. The combination makes me queasy, which just adds to my unease of him being here.

I step aside, putting a polite amount of distance between us, and wave him into the room with the hand that isn’t gripping my mother’s diary. I leave the door wide open and make no move to close it once he passes through the doorframe. He stands in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his suit as he takes in the appearance of the bedroom.

It’s messy. The bed is unmade, and there’s an array of mine and Auden’s clothes thrown around the room haphazardly.

“So, what can I help you with, Mr. Foster?” I ask nervously.

Why is he here? He never comes to this house, and why does he need to speak to me? Especially at this hour?

I can’t remember the last time this man willingly spoke to me, outside of the short interaction at the hospital with my father.

He sways back and forth on the heels of his shoes as he stares at me, looking me up and down with those hard, unfeeling eyes of his. I see nothing of Ian in this man.

No kindness. No love. No soul, if I’m being honest.

“I went to visit your father this evening,” he says tersely. “I figured you’d want an update on how he’s doing since you’ve been busy doing who knows what all day long.”

I clear my throat nervously, a small shiver sneaking up my spine. “I called my father around lunchtime, and he was in good spirits. We took Auden to the fair in town, and I knew I couldn't make it to the hospital before visiting hours ended. Did something happen?”

Mr. Foster takes a step closer to me, forcing me to look up at him. “We? Who mightwebe? Don’t tell me you’re still busy stringing my idiot son along, letting him follow you around like the broken puppy dog he pretends to be,” Mr. Foster spits out. Annoyance and disapproval rings clearly in his tone. “And here I thought the lecture I gave him yesterday would steer him clear of you. I was a fool to think you’d relinquish your tainted grip on him that easily.”

I continue to stare at him while my thoughts run rampant. What does this man know? He can’t know the truth about Irene’s death, can he? I squeeze the diary in my arms a little tighter, begging silently for it to give me all the answers.

Before I can ask Mr. Foster why he seems to suddenly despise me, Ian appears in the doorway. His posture is stiff, his shoulders tense as he stares down his father.

“Father, what brings you here at this hour?” Ian asks, his voice surprisingly steady, though I can see clearly that his fists are balled up tight against him.

Mr. Foster lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh, nothing. I was just giving Peaches here an update on her father,” he says smoothly. “Since clearly, his health has been of no importance to you ever since she got here.”

I raise a confused eyebrow at Ian.

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