When Mila and Ethan spoke last night, he told me she hadn’t wanted to discuss it. Just kept nodding and acting like the divorce wasn’t a big deal.
It obviously is.
Mila hiccups and holds me tighter. “Momma says she doesn’t want me living with Daddy any-any-anymore.”
As much as I’m struggling to not voice anything derogatory about Allison, I don’t think it’s healthy to turn kids against their parents.
“Sweetheart, she’s just upset, okay? I’m sure she’ll work things out with your dad.”
She nods. “I wanna st-st-stay here. With you and Daddy.”
“And he wants you here. I’m sure once everything settles down, it’ll be okay. Your daddy loves you so much. He’d move mountains to be with you.”
“I wish it was like it used to be. Like in our pictures.” She sniffles, and I grab a napkin and help her blow her nose. “Except I want you here too.”
Mustering a smile, I wipe away a few of my own tears that escape. “If your momma was here, you guys wouldn’t need me to help out, but I understand what you mean.”
I consider the family photos on the mantel in the living room and can’t help wonder what happened to Ethan and Allison to bring them to this point.
Although Allison seems like she very much wants this divorce, she sure leveled a shitload of acrimony my way when she found me with Ethan. She screamed at me like I was the other woman. Like I was responsible for breaking up her family.
Which makes me wonder if she still loves Ethan.
Or if there’s a part of Ethan that still loves her.
After a few more minutes of holding Mila, I sit her in her chair. “Know what always cheers me up? Decorating cookies. Do you think you’d like to help me make some? You can help me stir.” I really shouldn’t feed these kids so much sugar, but I’m at a loss for how to get her out of this funk. I make a mental note to figure out more craft projects.
“Can we do different color icing?”
“Yup. And we can do different shapes too.”
“Can we make Daddy some too?” She sniffles and smiles, pausing to wipe her nose on her arm.Okay, gross.
“Sure can.” I reach for a wet wipe to clean off the snot.
After we set up all the ingredients for the cookies, I pin her drawing to the fridge with a magnet.
When I turn back to Mila, she motions me closer. Leaning close, she points to her drawing and whispers in my ear, “You’re the butterfly.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Butterflies are my favorite.”
Aww.“Thanks, babe. You and Cody are my favorite.”
She whispers solemnly, “What about my daddy? Is he your favorite too?”
That’s an easy answer. “Absolutely.”
Probably more than I’d care to admit.
* * *
An hour later,I’m writing the directions down as quickly as possible, but Beverly’s zipping through the recipe faster than I can write.
Pushing the phone higher with my shoulder, I hum into the receiver. “Wait, so you use ice water?”
“Oh, yes. The colder you get the ingredients before you roll it, the better. Otherwise, it’ll get sticky. I also roll out the ball of dough between two large sheets of plastic wrap so you don’t have to peel it off a counter. Way easier.”
