Do you think about it too? Do you want to do it again, even though we shouldn’t? It’s not that way between us. We’re just friends. Good friends. The best of friends.
I delete the last part of the text, leaving only the first two words, and hit Send.
Me: Kick everyone’s asses tonight. For me.
Unless I was called away on a search and rescue mission for several days, I usually got to see Zara daily. And for plenty of those times, it was just the two of us hanging out together.
Not seeing her as much as before feels unnatural. Like part of me has been hacked off.
28
GARRETT
Two hoursafter I disappear into my office following dinner to write and post on social media, I reemerge and head to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
Peony’s and Athena’s voices are coming from the living room, and I take a detour to see what they’re up to.
They’re at the coffee table, working on a bright, colorful jigsaw puzzle with jungle animals on it.
Or rather, Athena is putting the puzzle together. Peony is taking it apart.
Athena doesn’t seem to care that Peony is destroying it as quickly as Athena is putting it together, if her smile is any indication.
I sit on the couch and watch Athena slot the tiger’s face into place. “Hey, what are you two doing?”
“We’re putting together this jigsaw puzzle, aren’t we, Peony?” Athena’s smiling eyes meet mine.
Peony waves at me and ducks down. Only the top of her head and the two buns perched on either side are visible above the coffee table. She pops back up, holding a book, and toddles to where I’m sitting.
She puts the book beside me and toddles to the sectional cushionwhere Poppy is flopped on her side. She grabs her by the leg, returns to where I’m sitting, and puts her next to the book.
The board book Kenda used to read to Peony.
Her favorite book.
Peony leans her chest onto the cushion, the surface of it dipping under her slight weight, and she awkwardly brings her leg up. Then in an impressive combination-wiggle-roll move that would impress even the Olympic gymnastics judges, she pulls herself onto the couch.
She crawls onto my lap, sits upright, and reaches for her panda, which is too far away for her to grab. “Poppy.” The sweet strawberry scent of her kiddy bubble bath lingers on her skin.
I hand her the panda.
Athena beams at us. “I think she wants you to read her the book.”
I show it to Peony. “You want me to read this to you?”
She taps the cover several times like it’s a drum.
“I can do that,” I tell her. Inwardly, I high-five myself.
I open the book and read the story, making funny voices for each of the animals. Peony giggles at each one, so hard, at one point she almost rolls off my legs and onto the couch.
I loosely wrap my arm across her stomach like a seat belt, keeping her in place, and finish reading the story.
Reading her this book…the one that she loves because it reminds her of her mother…it’s like…witnessing the Northern Lights, a solar eclipse. There’s no other feeling like it.
I just hope this, the way Peony is currently responding to me, isn’t temporary. I hope I won’t wake up tomorrow and find out we’ve retreated five steps overnight.
“Do you want Daddy to put you to bed?”
