Page 77 of The Two of Us

18

NOW

Something big has shifted between Ambrose and me. It isn’t cataclysmic or in your face. It’s steady and subtle—a mixture bubbling in a beaker on low heat. When I wake up the morning after the incident with Jason, Ambrose is long gone. I’m not offended. I didn’t expect him to stay and make me breakfast even though a small, traitorous part of me wouldn’t have hated that.

I strip the sheets that now smell of him and a folded piece of scrap paper floats to the floor.

Had to leave early to drop Matty off at school. Text me if you need anything. Did you know you snore?

I gasp. “I don’t snore.”

At the sound of my voice, my cracked door swings open and Otso barrels straight for my midsection. Tackling me onto the bed, I let him shower me—literally shower me, thanks to the excess saliva—with kisses. I still feel bad for forcing him back in the closet before I knew it was Jason who broke in. But I love the large beast now and the thought of him getting hurt pains me.

“Hi, boy,” I coo, burying my face in his fur. “I’m okay. We’re all okay.”

Laura knocks lightly on the door even though it’s wide open. “I don’t mean to be a bother, I just wanted to check on you.”

Laura insisted on coming over last night, but I refused her offer when she mentioned she had Matty staying over at her place. Something about Anya dropping him off in a hurry. I didn’t want Matty to be pulled from another bed, so I told her I was fine.

Laura was supposed to be with my dad last night, but when she couldn’t make it, she called in a replacement last minute. The replacement’s car broke down and she didn’t have a signal to notify Laura, which is why the house was empty when I came home. It was the perfect storm.

“I’m as okay as can be.” I smile.

“I owe you a huge apology, Mara.”

I put up my hand to stop her. “Laura. In no universe should you take any scrap of responsibility for what happened last night.”

She wrings her hands together. “But Anya’s my sister and he’s her ex-boyfriend. I should have—”

“Stop. Seriously. I won’t let you assume any of his blame.”

When Laura sees the determination on my face, she nods her head in defeat. She doesn’t move from my door and I take a closer look at her appearance. Laura’s always had a sort of effortless grace about her, but right now she looks bone deep tired. Her soft eyes are rimmed red and the creases on her face deepen under her solemn expression.

“Is there something else bothering you, Laura?”

She looks up at my ceiling, contemplating whether to confide in me. The breath she releases is weary. “It’s Matty. His birthday is tomorrow. Anya told me she was reserving the Blade Arcade in the town over, but when I called them today to confirm, they said a reservation had never been set. Matty’s already invited all his friends from the Big Brother and Big Sister program. I don’t know what I’m going to tell him and Anya’s not answering my calls.”

I cringe inward. If there’s one thing little kids are brutally judgmental about, it’s other kids’ birthday parties. “What if we have it here?”

“Here as in… your home?”

“Yes! Our backyard is massive, and Ambrose installed a new grill to impress that swanky real estate agent. We have a tree house. We can come up with some games. I’m not the best cook, but I’m pretty sure seven-year-olds live off pizza and cake.”

“I can’t possibly ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” She looks skeptical. “Besides, this house could do with some giggling kids running around. A bit more life.” I smile wide, hoping it convinces her to accept my offer.

She relents. “Okay. Let’s do it. Thank you, Mara!” She runs forward to kiss my cheek. “I’ll run out and get decorations today. Maybe now I can finally make use of my Pinterest DIY board.”

She calls Otso to leave, thanking me three more times before closing my door. I brush my teeth and shower, surprisingly invigorated for the new day. As I go downstairs, I stop in front of my dad’s door. Taking a deep breath, I let myself in and kick off my shoes, sliding into the empty space on his bed.

“Hey Dad,” I whisper. “I thought we could have a little father-daughter date after last night’s… adventure. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” I laugh to myself. If he was conscious, he’d find my joke funny. I prop my phone on my knee, clicking on the app of my favorite streaming site. As Princess Bride begins to play, I lean back into the free space on his pillow.

“This is a special book,” I say, reciting the words from the opening scene. “It was the book my father used to read to me when I was sick and I used to read it to your father. And today, I’m gonna read it to you.”

My dad’s eyes stay closed, but his expression is soft. Peaceful. The remaining patches of golden hair on his scalp have become dull and brittle. I lean down close to his ear. “Don’t worry, Dad,” I whisper. “You still give Wesley a run for his money.”

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