Page 81 of Retribution

“I’ll see to him, don’t you be worrying yourself about it. Now, I think little miss needs some beauty sleep, don’t you?” I rub my thumb across her cheek, trying to reassure her.

Her mood is totally off, and I can tell she’s worried about Reed. She obviously knows him better than I do. I’ll make sure before I go to sleep that I check up on him and make sure that he’s not doing anything stupid.

Despite this entire thing being fake, I still have Willow at the forefront of my mind and I won’t allow him to do anything that would cause her upset, it doesn’t matter that she’s not my daughter.

I lay out some pajamas for Willow and leave the room for a moment, allowing her to get changed. Leaning over the banister of the staircase, I look down into the hallway, connected to the office. The door remains closed and I can spot a light peeking out from underneath, but I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. I push away and knock on Willow’s door.

“Lo, are you ready?” I double check. She responds with a yes.

Opening the door, I see her propped on the end of her bed, her frame appearing tiny in comparison the huge bed behind her. I reach into her dressing room drawers, pulling out the new pink hairbrush.

I beckon for her to sit on the dressing table stool, the fluffy pink fur on the stool tickles my bare legs as I stand against it. She sits down in front of me slightly slouched and I begin to remove the hair tie, letting her brunette waves cascade around her shoulders. I brush her hair as gently as I can, untangling all of the knots that have accumulated over the day. I start to Dutch braid her hair, one of the many perks of growing up with sisters is the amount of practice you can get on braiding. I finish up and tie it with a purple bobble to match her pajamas.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Willow asks.

“I grew up alongside two younger sisters, we used to play ‘beauty salons’ and give each other makeovers. I got pretty good at it, especially Dutch braids.” I smile at the memory.

“Oh.” She looks down.

“What’s up Lo?” I walk around to the front of her and crouch down on my knees, placing my hand on hers.

“Well… just I’m never going to get to experience that. Not now with mom being gone.” She fiddles with her fingers and doesn’t meet my eyes.

I didn’t think too much around the fact that she is an only child, I do feel for her because I’ve had my sisters for as long as I can remember. There isn’t much of an age gap between the three of us so I’ve never had to go through the phase of ‘wanting’ a sibling. But this conversation is incredibly awkward, I can’t reassure her that she may possibly have one because I have no idea what Reed’s intentions are, once our agreement is over.

I don’t know if he’ll remarry and begin a family with someone else, but I’m sure that’s exactly what Willow expects from me. She’s probably getting her hopes up that it could be a possibility when me and Reed both know it’s a wasted wish.

I sigh and pull her in for a hug and try to comfort her.

“I’m sure you’ll have a sibling one day.” I console her.

She yawns and pulls back from the hug.

“I’ll just have to dream about it whilst I sleep,” she says as a wave of tiredness lines her voice.

She dives onto the expanse of the bed. Her body sinks into the plushness of the duvet covers, I feel like I could just about join her at this rate, the bed looks so cozy. I tuck her in, popping a small peck on her forehead, bidding her goodnight.

On my way out, I use the light switch to dim the chandelier to make the room dark enough for her to sleep and close the door quietly.

I stand with my back against the wall, taking in the difference of my routine compared to only a few weeks ago. I feel like I’m starting to come down with ‘impostor syndrome’, this doesn’t feel like my life. It feels like I’ve shifted out of my life and stepped directly into Allie’s shoes. I’m not sure what I expected truthfully, but transforming from an independent, businesswoman to a family-oriented woman overnight has really begun to take its toll on me.

Hearing the office door open below me, I stay put, listening to what he’s doing.

His footsteps disappear towards… the kitchen?

I don’t quite have the house mapped out enough yet to differentiate. Waiting a little while, his footsteps don’t return so I take this as my chance to go downstairs and into his office.

I tiptoe on the white marble staircase, my ballerina feet allowing me to be as graceful as possible.

Peering down the central hallway to the kitchen, I can see that the garden light is on, the back door left open slightly.

He’s…outside?

I dart across the hallway and make a quick left, slipping inside of his office. My chest is heaving from the angst of sneaking around, even when there is practically no reason for me to be doing so. The office is lined with light-wood bookcases and shelving, a large wooden desk is central in the room, a computer sits in the middle of it with hundreds of papers spread around. The computer is on and a crystal decanter is placed next to the keyboard, half-filled.

So, he is drinking in here?

It’s strange how he hasn’t invited me to join him and wants to be sitting here alone with it. I creep around to his leather office chair, the seat still warm.

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