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Chapter Twenty-Three
XAN
I stand in the doorwayof the bathroom while Millie scrubs her teeth and sends me playful glares in the mirror. Moments like this have become what I look forward to over the last few weeks. The simple mundane moments of everyday life. No chaos, no crisis, no life altering decisions to be made. Just the simple act of harmless defiance from a little girl on her birthday.
I love that as the days go on, I see more and more of her personality come out in these little moments. They probably mean nothing to her, but to me they are everything.
“Come on,” I nod toward her room as she rinses her mouth tosses her toothbrush into the glass jar on the counter. I lay an arm across her thin shoulders and she looks up at me in a way that makes me wish things I shouldn’t be wishing. Like that she’d still be here on her next birthday and that we’d celebrate it together like a family. A real family.
But Briggs words hit me in the chest. She said so herself that her and I are over. The expression on her face when Millie talked about next year’s birthday told me everything I need to know about how this is going to play out.
Raston suffocates Briggs, she told me that many times. I want to tell her to stay. I want to be the guy that would demand the right to my daughter. To refuse to let Briggs make decisions for Millie without my involvement.
I’m not that guy.
I’ve had Millie for almost two months. Briggs has had her for ten years.
It’s so fucking complicated.
“Mom’s going to make us leave, isn’t she?” Millie startles me with her words as she crawls into bed and pulls the blankets under her chin. “You guys think you’re being sneaky. I see it.”
I sit next to her on the bed and push the hair off her face. “You are the smartest kid I’ve ever met.”
“Will you let her take me away? I like it here.”
I’ve never been asked a more difficult question. How do I even begin?
“You’re here now. You’ll be here for a while more. Your mother and I are talking about it, okay? She would never force you to leave, Emilia. She wants you to know your family. She promised me she’d never take you away from me. I believe her.”
Millie’s eyes are unfocused and heavy, and she chuckles. “You know that she was lying right?” Millie whispers and I have to fight to catch my heart from dropping.
“Lying about what?” I ask.
“She loves you,” Millie mutters half asleep and I am so still that I stop breathing altogether. “She’s always loved you. I can tell. She has a special voice only for you. I only hear it when she talks about you. She has a special look for you too. Her eyes change when you’re around.”
Her voice is barely audible and trails off into a soft snore.
I’m not sure how to process anything Millie said. I finally chalk it up to a hopeful little girl wishing her parents would be together, to love each other. There’s no way she could understand all of this so fully.
Real love is about more than soft words and passionate glances.
I had to believe that. Even though I so desperately want to side with Mille.
––––––––
The night is cold,and the yard is dark except for the flood light set up outside Briggs RV. She’s tossing boxes through the door and I can see that she’s tense. The same cloud that’s hung over her since the moment she returned to Raston shades her light.
I pick up a box on my way and when she turns around, she startles, her eyes fearful for only a moment before they change. And I see it. For the first time and only because Millie pointed it out. When focuses on me her gaze softens, they narrow in and see only me. They are torn. Tortured.
A small blip of hope emboldens me to believe Millie. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Briggs still does love me somewhere behind all those walls.
“Need help?” I ask and her lip suddenly trembles like what I said meant something that had nothing to do with the box in my hands.
I set the box down and pull her into my chest. She wraps her arms around my waist, and we stand like that for a long time.
“I wish you’d talk to me Briggs,” I whisper into her hair and her shoulders heave with a sigh.
“I’m a terrible mother, Xan. How is this Millie’s first real birthday party? She’s ten years old.” Briggs’ voice is muffled against my chest, so I push her to arm’s length. The cold air sends shivers from her shoulders and tears that will never spill cling to her lashes. She tries to turn away and it breaks my heart that she’s never allowed to cry. Never allowed to show herself.
