Chapter Twenty-nine
Salvatore
Afterawhirlwindofa weekend, Monday morning arrived swiftly. Saturday had been about Bea, and Sunday had been devoted to my family.
One day soon, I hoped to merge the two, but there were several steps and conversations that had to take place before we got there.
Now that I knew Bea thought she would be able to belong to me, I was more confident in the outcome. Because as far as I was concerned, she was mine.
I woke to tiny fingers poking at my eyelids and chin, and sweet, hot breath tickling my ear.
“Uncle Sally, I have to talk to you.”
Lacey hadn’t mastered the art of whispering. Her version was a raspy shout aimed directly at my eardrum. I was used to it, so instead of flinching, I shot upright and grabbed her, pulling her onto my legs, safely out of range.
She squealed like she hadn’t expected it, but this was our ritual most mornings. She snuck into my room, and I pretended to be asleep so she could wake me up and tell me whatever important piece of news was on her mind.
Being her parent hadn’t come naturally to me, but I’d watched my sister work her magic with her kids for years. I could imagine how Tia would handle any moment, what she’d say, the calm way she’d say it. She’d led with love in every circumstance, and that’s what I tried to do too.
Even if I hadn’t chosen this role, I was all in. They hadn’t asked to lose their mom. None of us had asked for this. We were all here through a fucked up twist of fate.
“Good morning, Lace.” I smoothed her wild, dark hair away from her face and raised her up on my knees so we were eye to eye. “What do you have to tell me?”
Tia lived in her eyes. The shape, the color. More than that, in her constant innate curiosity and compassion. Like her mother, she made friends everywhere she went. No one was a stranger.
As an introvert who connected with very few people, she fascinated me, and I was a little in awe of her—this tiny, bright human who somehow belonged to me.
“I think I know unicorns are real.”
I blinked. I had not anticipatedthatto be the topic of the day. “How did you figure that out?”
“Talon told me they’re not real, but he doesn’t believe in magic things. I do,” she whisper-shouted.
“Really?” Now that did not surprise me. Talon moved on facts, whereas Lacey liked a life filled with whimsy. “Well, are you going to tell me?”
She slid down my legs and flopped on the mattress next to me, using my stomach as an armrest. “I bet unicorns lived with the dinosaurs. And when the scientists dug up the bones, they foundhorns and thought they were from the dinos, but nope.” Her eyes went comically wide. “They were unicorn horns.”
“Where do you think the rest of the unicorn bones are?”
She drummed her fingers on her round cheek. “You know when Scarlet had a hermit crab and it got too big, so it got a new shell? I bet the unicorns dropped their horn shells when they grew too big.”
“Oooh.” Her logic always amazed me—how thoroughly she thought things through, the way her brain spun connections I never could. “So paleontologists have been digging up horn shells and thinking they’re dino bones?”
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “That’s why they’re hollow.”
“Okay. I see what you mean.” I took her hand in mine, rubbing the soft skin over her knuckles as I came up with more questions. “I’m still curious if you have an idea of where the rest of the unicorn bones might be.”
She crinkled her nose. “I was thinking about it all morning in my bed.”
“That’s where the best thinking happens,” I agreed.
“I know.” Her giggle was light and melodious. “Uncle Sally, you know unicorns are magic?”
“I’ve heard that before. Do you think magic’s real?”
“Yep. Do you?” She stuck out her chin like she was ready to argue if I said no.
I paused, thinking about how much of my life I’d spent boxed in by logic, ignoring the beautiful things right in front of me. I thought about Bea. About Tia. About the kids. About how the best parts of my life had come from things I couldn’t plan for or control.
