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And I just know that sentence, with that smile, will live rent-free in my head for as long as I exist.
Welcome home.
When I enter the kitchen for the second time this morning, I’m better dressed and a lot more poised.
“Mickey!” My daughter’s exuberant squeal gets my attention.
There, in front of the stove, stands Remi, holding Isabel on his hip while she rests her head on his shoulder and sucks her thumb. So natural. She’s wearing her little footy pajamas, and they both look so warm and cuddly.
Cuddly? What the hell is wrong with me?
He flips something on the griddle. “That’s right, Isa-bea.”
Isa-bea? He has a cute nickname for her too, making her a part of the process and having fun. Breakfast isn’t just a thing to get through so you can go about your business the rest of the day. No, Remi makes breakfast a bonding experience.
He kisses the top of her head. Swoon. “Can you sing the Mickey Mouse Song?”
“M. I. C.—K. E. Y,” they sing in unison. Or, he starts and she mimics.
It dawns on me—he’s teaching her how to spell. By the second verse, she knows all the letters. My smart girl.
Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms with a smile.
He turns with a small look of wonder on his face. “Look who it is, Isa-bea.”
“Mama!” She lunges forward, and my arms want to hold her.
“Those look a lot better than what I made earlier.”
He walks over and hands her to me, playfully pinching her chubby cheek. “Yeah, but they are not as good as apology pancakes.” The flirt winks before returning to the stove.
Isabel starts pulling on my earrings. I don’t usually wear them because costume jewelry is frivolous and unnecessary in the office. But for some reason, I had an urge today. Jay will either be proud or mad because the earrings are theirs.
“I don’t know what you have planned for today, but will you stop by the office? Lunch is on me this time.” I give him a sheepish smile because I’m well aware I tore him a new one over this very thing.
I’m so ashamed of letting assholes like Robert get to me like that. I chose his perception of me over my daughter, and that’s unfair to her. Remembering Charlotte treating me this way as a kid gashes me deep.
Of course Isabel comes first—I am a mother. So what? It only makes me fiercer. More determined.
He looks up at me, gauging my intent. “What happened yesterday is okay. We got through it, and I’d never hold it against you. I know you’re busy at work.”
As disasterly as it was, seeing them yesterday was the highlight of my day. Eating the lunch he so thoughtfully brought me was balm to my aggravated nerves. “I have a confession to make.”
He pauses and faces me, holding a spatula in mid-air. A sly grin slowly builds on his face. “Oh?” He stresses the word like he’s waiting to hear something salacious.
Like I said, adorkable.
“When I got back to my office after the meeting, I was wishing you guys were still there. My head was so far up my own ass I didn’t even acknowledge her.” I hold my mouth to her warm cheek because this admittance slices through my heart, making me bleed out. My throat hurts from holding back my emotions. “What kind of mother does that?” Even as I ask it I know—Charlotte.
Remi sets the spatula down and straightens. “Hey.”
When I don’t look at him, he walks over and takes Isabel, putting her in her chair with some fruit. After he’s sure she’s content, he comes back to me, placing his hand on mine. His touch sizzles up my arm, and I stare at his beautiful fingers.
“Hey, Queeny. You’re doing the best you can. The fact that you recognize it makes you an amazing mother.”
“Right, so amazing I can’t even cook my daughter a proper breakfast.” I pull my hand away and go sit at the table, needing some space between us. “I fed her yogurt and a banana before carting her off to daycare.” Looking around the kitchen, I see it with different eyes today. It’s a mess, for sure, but it looks more like a home than it ever did. A stranger—a childless one, at that—is a better parent than I ever was. “We never sang while making a meal together. I’ve never made her a part of anything I did. I just did it. It was more efficient, but it’s not right.”
Remington sits next to me, scooting the chair closer. “Are you perfect? No, of course not. None of us are. We’re learning. That’s the magic of life.”
