Even though we have yet to share one meal, I smile at the thought of us eating together again. Knowing he wants to include me in his dinner routine with his daughters causes butterflies to take flight in my stomach. I can't remember the last time I had this feeling with a man. Or maybe it's not just the man but the family that he comes with that is making everything so different.
We work in silence for a few minutes before it dawns on me that I haven't heard little voices since coming into the kitchen.
"Where are the girls?"
"Everly is watchingBlueywhile Zoey and Livy do their homework in their bedrooms."
"They don't need help with their homework?" As a kid, homework was always done at the kitchen table. I half expected the same for Ang and his daughters. The man adores them.
"I wish," Ang laughs. "They have desks in their rooms and prefer silence. They are both smart as a whip and have accused me of hovering when I ask them to do it down here. I finally got the hint and just let them do it alone. Their teachers say they could teach the class anyway, so who am I to argue."
That's . . . sad. Homework to my parents was a bonding time. I wonder if the girls would change their minds if they knew that. It's something to think about for the future.
I chop the vegetables in silence for a few more minutes, but my nerves start to get the better of me again. The situationreminds me of the “Tower of Terror.” I know something is coming, but the when is unpredictable, so all I'm left with is to wait and worry.
I decide I need more of a distraction.
"Tell me something about your daughters so I'm not going into this blind." The words pop out of my mouth even though that isn't what I was going to say.
I'm sure Ang's shocked expression matches my own.
"Uhhh . . . sure. You've obviously met Everly. She's my strong-willed one. Livy is quiet, whereas Zoey is very talkative. Livy is her mother to a T, whereas Zoey is exactly like me. Except for her smarts. She got those from her mother. Livy prefers to stay at home. She likes to cook, dance, and draw. Zoey is her opposite. She’s the athletic one, and if our town had more sport options, I'm sure she would try every single one. There's nothing that kid can't do with a ball or her body."
I've only lived in Willow Creek for a short time, but I've paid attention to how things go month after month in the small town. And as I listen to Ang describe his daughters, ideas begin to pop up in my head.
I don't get the chance to voice them though, because before I know it, little feet are making their way toward us. At first it's just one set, but then two more join in, and before I know it, all three girls are standing in the doorway staring at me.
It's obvious which one is Livy, and based on what Ang said about her being the spitting image of her mother, I quickly realize I'm in over my head. Because if this is what a younger version of Ang's late wife looked like, she was drop-dead gorgeous.
And the opposite of me in every way.
Chapter Thirteen
ANGELO
Livy is her mother in every way. So much so, I sometimes wonder how much of my DNA I actually contributed. Blonde hair so light it's almost white, and blue eyes so bright even the clearest ocean can't compete. There are times looking at her hurts my heart. Because my three little girls won't have their mother to ask questions as they grow up.
But right now it hurts a little more as I watch Gracie stare at Livy. I can see the million thoughts running through her head. I just wish I knew what they were.
I put Gracie's thoughts out of my mind and turn my attention to my daughters with a smile. "Livy, Zoey. I would like you to meet Gracie, our new tenant and Everly's nanny while I'm at work."
Zoey, my overly enthusiastic and talkative middle child, is the first to respond. "Hi, Gracie." She waves her hand a million miles a minute. "I'm Zoey. I'm six years old and in the first grade. This is my sister Olivia. She's eight and in the third grade. That'sEverly." She points to where her younger sister is sitting on the floor. "She's only three and not in school yet. How old are you?"
I choke out a cough at the bluntness that is my middle child. "Zoey, it's not polite to ask an adult their age." I attempt to correct my daughter without hurting her feelings, simultaneously giving Gracie an apologetic look.
It was a pointless worry, though, because instead of being upset by my words, Zoey’s innocent curiosity takes over. "Why not? I told her my age. It's only fair I know hers. You're always saying if I get something, it's only fair my sisters do as well."
Well, she isn't wrong. And this is one of those times my words come back to bite me in the ass.
I rub the spot between my eyebrows and try to come up with a way to explain socially acceptable questions, but Gracie answers first. "I'm thirty-three. And what I think your father is trying to say is that some people might get upset if you asked them their age."
"Why?" Zoey looks genuinely confused by that answer. "Birthdays are the best."
I try to hide a laugh. Birthdays to a kid are the best, but how do I explain that the same can’t always be said for adults past a certain age. Once again, I don't have to say anything, because Gracie is here to save the day.
"They are the best, aren't they."
Zoey nods her head eagerly while Livy hangs back behind her sister, watching this all play out. It’s always been that way between the two of them. You’d think, as the older sister, Livy would be the one to take charge. But that isn't the case. Livy has always been happy to let both of her sisters hog the limelight.
