Page 118 of Manhattan Kiss

I pull in a breath. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Maybe even…I could move into the green bedroom next door,” she says.

“You don’t like this room?”

“I do, but the green room has a big bed, and it’s got a shower in the bathroom. I had a shower at Mommy’s house on my own. Just like a big girl.”

A big girl.

My baby’s six. I’m not sure I’m ready for her to be a big girl.

Usually, Lucia would run a bath for Willow in her bathroom and then I’d bathe her. A shower is probably quicker and gives Willow a bit more independence.

“Let’s go and see the green room, shall we?” While I was sharing the house with Gabby, I stuck to the rooms in the house that felt like mine or Willow’s—the downstairs living area, my bedroom, Willow’s bedroom, and the basement.

I follow Willow out of her room. A laundry room separates her bedroom and the green room. And then my current bedroom is next to the green bedroom, opposite the primary. There are another two bedrooms at the top of the house, but I have no idea what they’re used for. I can’t remember the last time I went up there.

Gabby and I chose Willow’s current bedroom because it was next door to the primary. It still felt like a million miles away, but now, maybe she doesn’t need to be right next door to the primary.

“You’re going to move into Mommy’s old room now that she doesn’t live here?” she asks, as we step into the green room.

I suppose that had been the plan. I haven’t gotten around to actually sleeping in that room yet though. “Maybe,” I say.

“This has a big bed already,” she says, as she cartwheels into the green room. “And even a dressing table.”

“You want a dressing table?” I ask.

“For my makeup.” She reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a lip balm. “I can put my hairbrushes on here too. And my lotion.”

She wants to be just like Gabby.

“What about all your books?”

She shrugs. “We can bring them in here. Or we can leave them and I can just get them when I need them.”

I guess she could have her things in two bedrooms. It’s not like we have other uses for the six bedrooms in this house.

“And if Aurora ever comes to stay, she could sleep in my old bedroom. Or your old bedroom.”

“Aurora?”

“Maybe,” she says. “We could ask her if she wanted to come over for a playdate or a sleepover.”

Willow’s only met Aurora once, but she mentions her like she was part of our lives. She was part of my life, but I deliberately didn’t make her part of Willow’s. Yet somehow, Aurora has left her mark on my daughter.

It’s unsurprising, I suppose. She certainly left her mark on me.

“Do you want to paint the walls?” I ask.

“I think it’s pretty like this,” she says. The wallpaper is an intricate design of leaves. It doesn’t feel particularly child friendly. Maybe Willow will want a change once she’s in here. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” she asks.

“Tonight?”

Willow shrugs. “Wait a second!” She scoots out of the room. She’s back in a flash, carrying an armful of soft toys. “Let’s see if they like it,” she says. She starts talking to her polar bear and her penguin.

“We might sleep here tonight,” she explains. “The bed is bigger and there’s a shower. But if we don’t like it, we can always change our minds.”

I smile at my daughter, who wants to be a big girl and a little girl all at the same time, it seems. I step into the bathroom. It’s not as big as the one in Willow’s room, but it does have a big shower. Willow could shower herself, in theory. And I make a mental note to check with Lucia that the sheets are clean for Willow.