Page 37 of Sinful Deception

“Yeah.” I breathe in her exhale of delight. And relief. “Yeah, they can. And they do.”

“A lot?” Trembling, she looks out at the sky. “They can say it anytime?”

“Most of the time. But it’s not with words. I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone, but when my mom and dad want to say hello to me, usually they make a rainbow jump across the sky.”

Stunned, she gasps and swings back around to face me. “A whole rainbow, just for you? You’re so lucky!”

“Yep. But that’s not all.In the summer, they send a beautiful little butterfly to flitter by. Or they make a pretty flower grow on the sidewalk, and I know it’s them, because a flower really shouldn’t be able to grow in a place like that.”

“They send you so manyfings! That’s so special.”

“Uh-huh. But best of all,” like the universe truly wants to make her a believer, the clouds open up and soft new snow drifts past the window. “In the winter,” I whisper, “when flowers aren’t growing, and butterflies are tucked away from the cold, my mom and dad would make it snow. Because when I was little and growing up in New York, the snow would come after everyone was done with school and work, and we used toloveplaying in it together.”

“Snow?” A single tear dribbles over and tracks along her cheek. “They’re saying hello right now?”

“Well, actually, I think maybe my mom and dad know that you’re my favorite four-year-old in the whole world since I tell them so, and they have their special little speaker. I also told them about your mommy being sick and how she went to Heaven. So I think they found her, since she was new andprobably didn’t know her way around yet, and now they’re sending snow to let us know that they’re together, and your mommy wanted to say hello.”

Mia’s chest heaves, but her cries come in silence as she places her hand on the glass pane. “Hello, Mommy.” She sniffles and stares out at the gift she thinks has been sent just for her. “I hope you feel better now.”

“That’s the best part about Heaven.” I turn my head and swipe my cheek on my shoulder. But while I do, I catch Aubree’s tearful stare from the kitchen, and then Fletch’s, his attention on us and not the TV anymore. He’s a broken man. Devastated and desperate for something good in his life. He watches us with eyes glistening and red. But then his lips curl into a shaky, appreciative grin. “Being in Heaven,” I bring my focus back to Mia, “means no one gets sick anymore. It’s the best part.”

“Do youfinkMiss Fifi is gonna come visit me soon?” She drops her hand and turns to search my eyes. Her lips sink into a chubby pout, and her chin doubles because of her posture. But her stare is fierce, holding me captive. “She must be really busywifwork, huh? She doesn’t come around anymore.”

“I know, baby. But I think?—”

“Can you tell her to come visit when you see her?” She cups my face, like she thinks she needs to, to keep my undivided focus. “Tell her about my mommy, so she knows I’m a little bit sad.”

“Mia—”

“If she knows I’m sad, then I bet she’ll come.”

Choking on his grief, Fletch tumbles back against the couch and presses the pads of his thumbs to his eyes. Because he lost more than Jada this week. He lost Seraphina, too.

“I’ll tell her.” I swallow and hold Mia’s honeycomb stare. “I promise to let her know that you miss her and want to see her. And you, especially right now, while you’re sad, want a squishyhug that wraps you up nice and tight. I heard she’s pretty good at those.”

“Iappreciate everything you do for my baby, Delicious.” Fletch steps up behind me while Aubree and I tidy up. Lunch has been served and picked at. The dishwasher has been stacked. And now Mia has conked out on the couch despite it only being three in the afternoon.

Four-year-olds need naps on a normal day, right?

Four-year-olds who’ve spent twenty-four hours in hell are especially allowed to take time to rest.

“You’re welcome.” I glance over my shoulder and offer him a gentle smile. “I’ll do anything for you guys, you know that.”

“Anythingis to send a meal and a genericyou have my condolencescard from the florist. What you’re doing is next level. Both of you.” His eyes shift across to Aubree. “You didn’t even like Jada, but you’re here anyway and?—”

“We don’t have to speak of the things we didn’t like anymore.” I set the hand towel on the counter and hold his arm instead. “We can bitch about people who are alive. That’s fair game. But once someone passes, we typically let the shit go and choose positivity.”

“Making a martyr out of dead people is how history blurs.” He searches my eyes. “We need to remember to keep the facts straight, so in the future, my daughter can learn from the past instead of repeating it.”

“We can speak of addiction,” Aubree murmurs, setting her towel down too and resting her hip against the counter. “It’s a disease, Fletch, just like cancer is. Just like Alzheimers. Ifshe were the child of a cancer sufferer, especially the types of cancers that are hereditary, we’d inform her of what could come in the future and how to minimize that risk. Similarly, drug and alcohol addiction—or the addictive components of them—can also be hereditary. So we’ll teach Mia about the markers that may be in her DNA, and we’ll provide the information in a way that is educational without turning it into a bitch-fest about her mother.”

“Besides,” I offer, hopeful. “While addiction has an inherited component, genetic factors only form approximately fifty percent of her likelihood of following in those same steps. At four-years-old, Mia is already exhibiting a tighter control on impulsivity than her mother ever did.”

He stares in silence, waiting for my point. So I squeeze his arm before releasing him. “This is a good sign. Her likelihood ofalsobecoming an addict just fell another twenty-five percent.”

“You and your science-speak.” His cheeks warm as he shakes his head side to side. “Always turned me on a little.”

“Oh, please.” I push away from the counter and start toward the door. Because I hear familiar footsteps in the hall and don’t want them to waltz in with a clatter that’ll wake Mia from her much-needed sleep. “You already asked me to marry you once.” I grab the door handle and slowly bring it open. But I look back at my husband’s best friend and grin. “Hold the line and wait for things to heal between you and Miss Fifi. I think you might be missing an opportunity if you limit your love purely to me.” I bring my eyes around and beam at the cop and his baby brother waiting at the door.

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