Page 26 of Shattered Secrets

She waved at the rest of the table and Poppy, who’d joined their group and was wagging her eyebrows. Ignoring her friend, Scarlet hustled out of Monty’s Tavern.

Oh. My. God.What the hell had she just agreed to?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Scarlet placed the clean pan on the drying rack next to the small pot and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It was times like this when she wished her cute little apartment came with a dishwasher. But no.Shewas the dishwasher.

She grimaced. There was no real reason to complain. Even though it was older, the two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment was larger than any place she’d ever lived, and it was conveniently located right above Hudson Island Antiques, which was only a couple of blocks from Ray’s Diner. It also had come fully furnished, an absolute blessing since she’d arrived with only what she’d been able to fit in her car—two large suitcases and some random odds and ends.

The apartment even boasted two balconies. The bigger one was off the living room and had a gas grill that she had every intention of learning to use. One day. The smaller balcony was accessed through her bedroom and had a white oversized wicker chair with a matching little end table. It was one of her favorite places to unwind. After Daisy went to bed, Scarlet would often sit out there and relax, or she’d lie in bed with the sliding glass door cracked and listen to the sounds of her little town closing down for the day.

She’d really lucked out with this place. Mr. Wayland, who owned both the antique store and the building, was Martha’s nephew, so he’d given her a screaming deal since she worked at Ray’s. The building’s second floor housed her apartment and another larger apartment that he used as a vacation rental. She was certain he could have charged her much,muchmore in rent, but she wasn’t going to question it.

Still. It had been the longest week ever, so she had a right to gripe a little bit. She was exhausted and so thankful it was Friday. Mercifully, Ray and Martha allowed her to only work the weekday shifts so she could have the weekends with Daisy.

At the thought of her daughter, guilt pierced her chest.

She had messed up this week. Big-time.

Scarlet would be the first person to admit that she didn’t know much about raising a kid. Growing up, her parental figure had been questionable at best. Gross negligence was what one judge had ruled. So, while she’d been pregnant, she’d practically lived at the library, reading as many books as she could on parenting. But nothing had prepared her for the reality of it all. Especially not as a single parent.

The newborn phase had been more than rough. But as soon as Scarlet had figured out that her daughter would sleep for long stretches on her chest, she had taken advantage of the information. She’d slept in a recliner, Daisy on top of her, for a solid year. Some books said co-sleeping was bad, others said it was good. All she knew was they’d both gotten rest in that position.

Once Daisy had started crawling, Scarlet had become strict, setting firm boundaries for her daughter. As Daisy got older, Scarlet refused to bend because, frankly, their situation didn’t allow for it. It was a safety issue. If they were at a playground and she called Daisy over, she needed her child to complyimmediately. Luckily, Daisy always did. And she never protested the rules.

Except for the evening she had broken her arm. She’d begged and pleaded to go to the day care’s pool day and movie night even though Scarlet had wanted to keep her home to rest. Her daughter didn’t ask for much—the kid was more than happy with her small collection of stuffies and coloring books—so she’d relented. She had stupidly thought it would be okay.

Then, on Wednesday morning, Daisy had been a mess. Constant tears, beyond cranky, and refusing to listen. Which wasnotlike her daughter. At all. Yes, kids could be little assholes, but Daisy wasn’t like that. Truly. People often liked to joke that Scarlet must have Daisy on a steady stream of Benadryl because the little girl was so easygoing.

So Scarlet had called in at work and kept Daisy home from day care. By mid-morning, her daughter’s hand had puffed up like an exploding marshmallow. Not knowing what to do—aside from freaking out—she’d rushed over to Doc’s clinic.

In a nutshell, Daisy had overdone it at the pool day and movie night.

Doc had removed Daisy’s cast, put her arm in a sling, and given her some ibuprofen. The swelling had gone down later that night, so he’d been able to recast her arm on Thursday. But she had to keep her arm in a sling for the next twenty-four hours.

Scarlet pinched the bridge of her nose. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the pool day and movie night would be too much for her daughter. After all, they were only kiddie pools with a few inches of water. She’d figured the kids were just hanging out and playing and splashing, not full-on swimming or anything... it would be fine.

She’d been so, so wrong.

She was officially the world’s worst mother. She was the one who’d allowed her child to overdo it.

“Look, Mama,” Daisy called out from the kitchen table. She held up a piece of paper with her left hand. “I can still draw! It’s a rainbow!”

Scarlet made out the shaky rainbow and what she assumed were blue clouds and a giant yellow sun. Giving the counter a final wipe, she moved to where her daughter was seated and ran a hand over Daisy’s head.

“That’s beautiful, baby girl,” she said, playing with the ends of her daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you start putting your crayons away now? It’s almost time for your medicine, and then it’s bedtime.” Daisy’s face scrunched, and Scarlet smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s the cherry-flavored medicine. Not the yucky pink one.”

Daisy immediately brightened. “Okay. Can you put this on the figyator?”

“Sure thing. When you’re done putting the crayons away, grab your jammies and pick out which bubbles you want for your bath.”

Once the crayons were back in their tub, Daisy scrambled out of her chair. “Can I sleep with you again, Mama?” she asked, running toward her bedroom.

“Walk, please,” Scarlet called out, wincing as she followed. Not only because her daughter was running, but also because she got next to zero rest when they shared a bed. Her little girl was an active sleeper. But it didn’t matter. “Of course, baby. We’ll have another slumber party tonight, but I want you to try to sleep in your own bed tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Daisy replied, grabbing her pink unicorn nightgown from where it lay on her twin-size bed.

Scarlet opened a dresser drawer and asked, “Do you want unicorn or princess undies?”

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