Page 8 of Twisted Fate

“Thank you,” I replied and secured them both in my bag.

“I’m going to wake Charlie now. If she naps much longer, she won’t want to go to bed this evening. I’ll talk to her and let her know you’re here before bringing her down. We’ll meet you in the family room.”

He disappeared up the stairs to retrieve his daughter, and I made my way to our meeting spot. I did my best to calm my racing heart while I waited. It was the first time I would see Charlie since the funeral, and I was a bundle of nerves. It shouldn’t matter. She was a child. I met new children all the time working as a substitute teacher.

But she wasn’t a new child. She wasmychild.

No. She was Vance and Sarah’s. I was simply her nanny and teacher. I couldn’t be more. I wasn’t worthy of being more. Even though my cousin had been adamant about having an open adoption, I never felt like I deserved that courtesy, and I worried it would confuse Charlie. Hell, it would’ve confused me. Back then, it hurt too much to look at her. All I could see was the man who’d put her in my belly, the one who’d taken liberties with my body while I was unable to say no.

Footsteps sounded above my head and muffled giggles met my ears. I drew in a deep breath, preparing for this reunion with the child I’d given up. She thudded slowly down the steps, and I could imagine her jumping down them one at a time. She finally crested the doorway and halted. Vance stood next to her, holding her hand as she timidly walked into the room.

“Hello again,” I said with a little wave and a soft smile. She waved back shyly.

“Go on,” Vance nudged gently.

“Are you Delilah?” she asked, pronouncing each “L” like a “W.” It was adorable and made her even more endearing.

My smile grew. “I am. And you must be Charlie.”

“My name is Charlotte, but everybody calls me Charlie for short,” she explained, still drawing closer. She released Vance’s hand, stopping only a few feet away. “I sawed you at my mommy’s funeral,” she announced. “You were her…” she began, her lips pursing in concentration as she tried to think of the right word.

“Cousin,” I finished for her after a moment.

“Cousin,” she repeated as though trying to commit it to memory.

I sank down on the edge of the couch so I could be at eye level with her. “Did your daddy tell you that I’m going to be spending some time with you?” I asked. She nodded. “We’re going to have lots of fun together, and you’re going to learn so many new things,” I declared, keeping my tone light, but excited. “Does that sound good to you?” Again, she nodded, her face lighting up as she grinned.

“Do you like books?” I asked, reaching into my bag.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. I pulled out a copy ofMadelineand handed it to her. She took it in her small hands, her eyes filling with wonder.

“This was my favorite book as a little girl. I wanted to be just like her and wear the same cute little, yellow hat.” Her grin widened as her eyes scanned the cover.

“I like her yellow hat.”

“Me too.” I chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris. That’s where Madeline lives.”

“Where is Paris?”

“Let’s see if we can find a map, and I’ll show you.”

7

Vance

The backsof my eyes burned, and I fought to suppress the tears as Charlie slipped her hand into Delilah’s.

“Do you want to see my room?” Charlie asked as they walked through the doorway.

“I’d love to.” Delilah turned to me, questioning in her eyes. I nodded, granting the permission she sought. They disappeared up the stairs, and I released a long, slow breath heavy with emotion. It was hard seeing them together, but that was the happiest Charlie had looked in months. Delilah brought something out in her that I couldn’t. Perhaps it was because I was suffocating under my grief, I wasn’t able to pull her out of hers.

I waited a while before going to check on them. I didn’t want Delilah to think I didn’t trust her, but also wanted to be close in case they needed something. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw when I stepped into her doorway.

Delilah sat on the floor, cross legged with her back against Charlie’s bed. My daughter sat perched in her lap as they read the book Delilah had brought for her. I had to brace my hands against the frame to keep from falling as my knees threatened to give out. The picture in front of me felt like a knife through the heart. With Delilah’s gaze cast down and hair cascading around her face, eyes shielded by the angle of her head, she could’ve been Sarah sitting there. I swallowed thickly, my throat tightening with emotion.

I escaped unnoticed and practically stumbled down the hallway to my room. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I dropped my head and let the tears fall. This was all my fault. If I’d been a better husband—if I hadn’t fought with Sarah that day and upset her so badly— she would still be here. We would’ve figured out what was causing all those terrible headaches. She had an appointment. They would’ve seen the aneurysm on her scan, but I hadn’t been able to swallow my pride and let it go until we’d both cooled off. I’d overreacted and acted on impulse, and it had cost her life.

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