Page 16 of Three More Shots
I can’t see my sweetcara’s face, but Ainsley nods and smiles at me. Well, in my direction since she doesn’t really make eye contact. But that’s okay. More than enough. We survived the crisis with her mother’s explanation and intervention.
“Let’s go clean it up, okay?”
More agreement, and they walk hand in hand to the mess. Corinne sets up the stand while Ainsley gathers the brushes and then drops them back into the deep black tray. While I do nothing until directed. Fucking weird, but tolerable to see them calm again.
Together, they gather the papers, and Corinne lays the pile on the table.
“Do you want to draw?”
“Yeah! Steele can too.”
Oh shit.Corinne actually giggles like a kid herself from the suggestion, but I have no fucking choice. I’ll man up and do the shit my girls like to prove they’re what I like. What I'd love to have in my life permanently.
Accepting a brown crayon from the handful Ainsley holds out after she grabs a box from under the end table, I plop down in my seat and flatten a wrinkled sheet, stalling until I can figure out how in the hell I ended up agreeing to this.
Chapter Five
She saysmy dog looks like a horse and laughs and laughs.
It’s not that bad, and Corinne’s expectations are unreasonable for a man who hasn’t colored in more than thirty years.
“He looks like he’s a good boy, and he licks your face a whole bunch because he’s happy to see you.”
At least Ainsley agrees with me. Defending my drawing and my dignity, she scooches closer and closer until her tiny leg presses against mine, and she writes her name on my paper without asking. I don’t mind. I’ll take any connection I can get with her.
“How do you spell Steele?”
Slow and careful, she meticulously transcribes each letter as I say them, and then puts a red heart at the end. Her way, I think, of accepting me. Of telling me I’m okay. Of making me her friend.
Corinne must concur from the joyous smile lighting up her delicate face. I grin too when Ains agrees to me scribbling my name on her sheet, and fuck me if my chest doesn’t swell from her affixing a star of approval to the picture. “Thanks, Ainsley.”
Small fingers curl around my hand for the briefest second before she digs through the crayon bin again and returns her focus to her page.
“This cat likes to sleep by the window.”
For ten full minutes, she describes what Sunny likes to eat and drink and play. I absorb all she says in silence, impressing me with how creative and detailed she is with the image she creates, until her little fists rub her eyes for the third time, and Corinne calls it quits on our impromptu art session. Peace fills me, more than I expect, as I watch Corinne settle her down for the night. Unable to keep from chuckling, I grin as Ainsley brushes her teeth, getting more toothpaste on the counter than in her mouth while dancing around with a pink princess spin brush she uses as a microphone rather than a toothbrush. Corinne is patient through all that as well as her lining up the stuffed animals from her bed onto the floor into a long row and reading four books until Ainsley holds her arm straight in front of her mom.
Mycaraslowly drags her fingertips up and down the ivory skin, a relaxing motion that seems to finally calm and soothe her daughter’s mind. After a few minutes, her little body relaxes too, and Corinne kisses her forehead, whispering something to her I can’t make out from my spot leaning against the door frame to her bedroom.
Not wanting to disturb their final good night wishes, I depart to the sofa when Corinne stands up. I'm quiet until she closes the door behind her. She still grins at me through her exhaustion but perks up when she sees the clean dishes drying in the white wire rack.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to.”
I don’t think I’ve washed dishes in almost thirty years either. Not since I moved out of my mom’s house when it was time for me to boss up and join my father in defending the family’s business.
“Thank you. And, thank you for staying so long. Tank lives next door.” She points to the wall at the far end of the kitchen, separating her side from his place. “I’ll have to face him sooner or later, but I’m glad it wasn’t while she was still awake.”
Admitting he’ll be dead soon probably won’t be reassuring, so I focus on us instead. “I want to stay tonight if you’ll let me.” I tap on the scratchy fabric of my cushion, reassuring her of my intentions. “I need to work for a little bit, and then I can catch a few hours of sleep out here.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
Her tone gives her away. The words contradict with her voice because she’s terrified the bastard will come back. She’s unwilling to admit she needs me. “A thousand percent.”
“Okay.” She tucks a strand of wayward hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
I can’t believe she gave in so easily. Proof she really is frightened, and I’m fucking thrilled to ease her worry. “You’re welcome.”
