Page 8 of This Heart
“We were. We are!”
“Are you seriously saying you are trying to tell me you thought my baby sister wanted to take Hope’s place?”
With a shake of my head, I replied, “No. I mean, I was drunk and I implied it. Winnie was upset, and she wouldn’t settle down for me when I was trying to get her to go to bed. She only wanted Aurora and it pissed me off. I said the only thing I could think of to push her away.”
Slowly shaking his head, Nathan closed his eyes. “I’m trying really hard not to punch you right now, Liam.” He opened his eyes and stared at me. “You were trying to push her away, why? Because Winnie wanted Aurora to put her to bed? Or is it because you were drunk and maybe you wanted to go to bed with my sister?”
I stared at Nathan. Not because what he said shocked me, but because what he said was spot on.
“I was drunk and upset. Winnie wasn’t asking for Hope, she was asking for Aurora and it fucked with my head.”
“Have you apologized to her? I certainly fucking hope so.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Your grief or guilt or whatever the fuck it is doesn’t give you an open invite to treat people like shit. Especiallymysister. You should know that.”
“I do know that, Nathan. I’m actually surprised she didn’t tell you about that night.”
“She wouldn’t have,” he said with a sigh. “She knows how close we are and she would never want to ruin our friendship.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face before dropping them to my side. “Please tell her I said hi and that Winnie and I would love to see her if she wants to stop by and visit.”
Nathan stared at me, and I was waiting for him to tell me to go to hell. “Yeah, sure. I’ll tell her. And that’s when you can apologize if she’ll even see your stupid ass.”
He turned and went to leave, then stopped. Turning around, he looked at me. “You said this happened in March?”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
He looked away in thought.
“Why?”
Turning back to me, he said, “I was just wondering.”
He walked back into the house, leaving me standing there, wondering why he wanted to know exactly when I fucked up.
Two weeks had passed since Mary had returned to New York City, and I resumed working full time at The Muddled Moose. I swung my legs out of bed and stood. Making my way to the bathroom, I took care of my business, splashed my face, and took a few breaths as I stared at myself in the mirror before heading to Winnie’s room. The realization hit me that she no longer cried for Hope or asked about Mommy. She had even stopped asking about Aurora. I showed her Hope’s picture every single day and told her to say good morning to Mommy in heaven. She would say, ‘Good morning,’ and tell Hope to have a good day, then grab Perry the Moose, her stuffed animal that was a gift from Aurora, and tell me she wanted pancakes for breakfast. Perry was the town’s mascot, and apparently my daughter’s favorite stuffed animal.
“You have to get your shit together.”
I’d now reached the point in this widower journey where I was talking to myself. Fucking fabulous.
“Daddyyyy!”
I smiled when I heard Winnie’s sweet voice coming from the baby monitor. I walked out of the bathroom and glanced at the camera. Winnie was sitting up in her bed, Perry tucked under her arm. The stuffed animal was soft, and Winnie would tuck its antlers up under her chin when she fell asleep. That kid dragged this moose almost everywhere.
“Daddyyy!”
I stepped into her room, and a wide smile broke out across her face. “Good morning, pumpkin!”
She stood and held her arms out for me. I picked her up and swung her around. “Are you ready to start your day?”
Jumping, she replied, “Pwease!”
I walked over to Hope’s picture. “Say good morning to Mommy.”
“Hi, Mommy!”
