Page 129 of What About Us
“What about Roxy’s?” I ask, wondering if she truly understands all that her dad gave up to make a better life here in Timber Forge.
“I know he works there now, but Timber Haus is way nicer than Roxy’s,” she says matter-of-factly. “I think we might move back there one day.”
The moisture in my throat seems to evaporate and I have to clear it to speak. “I think your daddy is planning to stay here in Timber Forge.”
Maybe I should stay out of it, but the more she talks, the harder it is to listen because her mother is not coming back, and they will not be moving back to New York. At some point, she will have to come to terms with that. Still, it’s not my place to say anything without discussing it with Hudson. And as much as I hate it, I can’t help but hear that small voice in the back of my head whispering that things between Hudson and me could always change.
She shrugs and reaches for the case containing all her doll accessories and settles it on her lap, unzipping it. She rummages around for a couple of seconds, then pulls out a light pink leotard with a crinkly, sparkled tutu attached and drops it into my lap.
“Put that on her,” she says absently, then hands me a small brush. “Then, you can get the tangles out of her hair.”
My eyes drop to the doll in my hands. She’s blond like Tristen, but dressed in overalls and a T-shirt. “I like the outfit she has on. It looks more like something I would wear. And people don’t wear tutus to go shopping, silly,” I say, straightening out the straps of the doll’s overalls.
Paige stops rummaging in the case and pins me with her dark eyes and a skeptical look. “But my mommy would never wear overalls,” she says.
I raise my eyebrows as she looks back to her doll. “I wear overalls,” I say, mostly under my breath, but Paige looks back up at me with a shrug.
I swallow hard as I watch her, thickness building in my throat.
The comment is innocent, but it hits me in the chest. It’s not a judgment, just a statement of fact—and also a product of being raised in a home with someone like Tristen. Not that she ever did any actual raising of Paige. That was all Hudson. But Tristen never failed to look flawless. She was rarely without makeup, her hair always perfectly styled, and nails manicured. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever saw her without makeup and every outfit she owns is designer.
I suppose that’s easy to do when you have a rich daddy with a black Amex card. She even has a Birken bag. There’s a cool $40K. It was a gift from herdaddyfor her birthday a couple of years ago. It makes me sick to think that selling that bag could probably pay my rent for the next four years.
She looks up at me, her face lighting up. “When you have a baby, you can get a mommy doll for you, and we can play all the time. You can call her Mama Finnley!”
I reach up and touch the necklace around my neck. Hudson and I have yet to discuss much, babies being one of them. We’re both past halfway to forty and trying to get new businesses off the ground. Still, maybe it’s in the cards. I really am getting way freaking ahead of myself. Although, the thought has a delicious warmth spreading throughout my body.
“I like that idea.”
“Me too, ‘cause you always do fun stuff with me,” she says, brushing hair off her forehead. “And you know a lot about diabetes, and it makes me not scared ‘cause we’re the same. And you’re kinda like a mommy to me already, right? ‘Cause you take care of me when my daddy isn’t home, and you make yummy dinners and paint my nails whenever I want.”
Her words squeeze my heart. I’ve always hated my diabetes, but Paige sees it as something that connects us. And that has a lightness spreading through my chest. It’s something. And maybe when she finds out I’m herstepmom, it’ll be one less thing we need to bridge the gap between being her dad’s best friend and being her stepmom. Only time will tell, I suppose.
“Yeah, I guess I kind of am sort of like a mommy,” I whisper and quickly brush away the tear that threatens to fall.
When Hudson can’t be here, and even sometimes when he is, I bathe her, feed her, tuck her in, read to her, and love her. Something I don’t think her mother even understands the meaning of. And now that Hudson and I have decided to be together, as soon as Paige knows, I really will be her stepmom. I’m not sure if she will understand what that means, but I want her to know that I will always be there for her, especially in ways that Tristen isn’t.
We play dolls for a good half an hour, then move on from playing family to fashion show. She has me doing outfit changes every few minutes, until I’ve got my doll dressed in a ballgown and hiking boots. Apparently, “doll Tristen” isn’t above that outfit choice. Soon, she’s asking to take a bath with her dolls.
I grab my Kindle from my room and run her a bath, then help her strip her dolls down to nothing before she climbs in. She’s under a mountain of bubbles, giggling delusionally, and tired as hell, when Hudson comes home.
I hear his boots hit the floor as he kicks them off next to the front door, and then his heavy footsteps on the stairs. I’m not surprised when he appears in the doorway a few seconds later, shoving half of the snickerdoodle cookie I left for him into his mouth.
He looks exhausted, but content. It looks really good on him, and I’m proud that all of our late nights tangled up in my sheets are part of the reason for that. He grins when he takes in the two of us, me sitting on the closed toilet lid and Paige happily playing with her dolls. The smile makes my belly flip-flop.
“Daddy!” Paige exclaims when she sees him.
He moves into the bathroom and crouches in front of the tub, dropping a kiss on Paige’s damp hair. His eyes hold nothing but love for his daughter as he looks down at her.
“Did you guys have fun today?” he asks, turning to me. His side brushes up against my knees in the small bathroom, sending chills skittering over my skin. Will I ever get over how his touch lights up my senses? God, I hope not.
Paige nods enthusiastically and launches into a recap of our night. Hudson listens intently, throwing me a smile when she talks at length about the Mommy and Me Day, the movie we watched, and how fun our carpet picnic was.
“Daddy, do you think it’s ok if I call her Mama Finnley?” she asks, tipping her chin at me. The gesture is so Hudson, and I would chuckle at the similarity if the subject matter wasn’t so serious.
I can only see his profile, but even from here, I can tell the question has made him emotional. His Adam’s apple works over a swallow, and he clears his throat before sliding his gaze to mine. I tuck my lip between my teeth to keep from grinning like a maniac.
“Mama Finnley, huh?” he asks, turning his attention back to Paige.
