Page 134 of One Touch

Ask me how I know.

Every day single day after she left, I reached out, hoping to feel Lily’s warmth beside me. It’s not like we even got into the habit of sleeping in the same bed. We only did it a couple of times, and both of those times, I’d said it was a mistake. And yet, I kept doing it. Hoping to find her next to me, only to touch cold sheets, and remember that she was gone.

Eight days. That’s how long her smell lasted. Strawberries and spice. I’d missed her so fiercely that I had got into the habit of sleeping in her old bed. At first, I’d done it to remember her scent, but then I’d gotten so used to the feeling of that new sofa sleeper mattress, I couldn’t go back to my old bed.

On the ninth day, as I’d slipped between the sheets and smelled nothing but myself, I thought that would be the end of it. Eight days of grieving, eight days of not being able to get her out of my head, then back to normal life. That had been the plan.

But the grief lingered far longer than Lily’s scent had.

With a groan, I forced myself up. I had a busy day ahead of me, but then again, I always had a busy day ahead of me.

Ava wasn’t up yet. She’d been less good at getting up recently, and I normally had to head into her room to nudge her awake. It wasn’t quite time yet, so I headed down to the kitchen and whipped up a bunch of batter for Ava’s favorite breakfast—chocolate chip pancakes. A surefire way to brighten any eight-year-old’s morning. Or so I hoped.

Once I had a nice big pile of the things waiting for her, I padded back upstairs.

Ava’s room was dark and peaceful. I was tempted to get in bed beside my little girl and surrender to the bliss of slumber once more. But obviously, I couldn’t. I was a single dad. Responsibilities and all that.

Ava was curled up with a unicorn toy clutched in her hands. The unicorn was holding a sword made out of an old toilet roll that Ava and Lily had made together, to transform the creature into a unicorn warrior. The truth was, in spite of her short stay here, Lily was all over this damn house.

“Good morning, Raver,” I said, stroking her hair.

She stirred and yawned. “What’s good about it?”

“Pancakes, that’s what.”

She smiled weakly. But by the time she was at the table, ready to eat, her smile was long gone.

“Here you go, kiddo,” I said, sliding a stack onto her plate. “Dig in.”

Ava poked at the pancakes with her fork. “Thanks, Dad. These are great.”

I frowned. “Everything okay?”

She shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, all good.”

“Looking forward to school?”

Another shrug. “Remember the time when Lily made those crazy pancakes?”

I sighed. We were both suffering from the same condition. Lilylessness. “Oh boy, do I. That was quite a morning, huh?”

Ava chuckled. “They were so weird.”

“Weird is an understatement.” I shook my head, smiling at the memory. Lily was trying to make ‘ocean-themed’ pancakes for Ava’s marine biology project. She used way too much blue food coloring and somehow managed to spill half a bottle of vanilla extract in the batter.

“They smelled amazing but tasted like . . . I don’t even know what.”

“Like someone had liquefied a blueberry muffin and a bottle of perfume,” I offered. “And let’s not forget how she accidentally used salt instead of sugar.”

Ava giggled. “But remember how proud she was when she made them look like fish?”

“Yeah, oddly shaped, bright blue fish that could probably ward off sharks with their smell alone.”

She nodded, then asked softly, “Do you think Lily will ever visit?”

The question caught me off guard, a dull ache blooming in my chest. “Maybe, sweetheart. You miss her?”

“Yup.”

---