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Red and white. Yellow and pink.
“Here you go, Mommy!”
She ran a tender hand through his hair. “You are a big help, aren’t you?”
He puffed out his chest. “I gotta be the man of the house.”
Least, that’s what his grampa told him because he didn’t have a dad.
Warm laughter floated out of her. “I think you should just focus on being my favorite little boy.”
His puffed up chest expanded farther, pressing full and wide.
“You’re definitely my favorite mommy. No doubt about it.”
Her pretty eyes sparkled and danced.
Bright green with a lot of gold, the same color as his. He was pretty sure it meant they were rich.
He tugged the end of the hose so the water was gushing out under the bushes to get them wet. “And your other favorite is your roses, right, Mommy?” he asked as he stood, his mouth a real big grin.
She touched his chin with her knuckle. “My second favorite because nothing compares to you, but I do love them. Tending to them.Growing them. It reminds me of being a mommy. Because you have to take good care of the things you love most.”
“Then that means I gotta take the best care of you.” He took her hand to prove it.
They finished watering the roses and cuttin’ off the dead buds and then his mommy said they had to make dinner. She brought a whole bouquet of them and set them up in the middle of the table for their special guest.
Because his mommy had a new friend.
TWELVE
KANE
Dance music drummedin Kane’s, the heavy bass beat vibrating the floors and trembling the walls. Pulsing so deep I could almost see the strains distort the air.
I was in my office in the far back of the old building, sitting at my enormous mahogany desk and staring down at the tumbler full of scotch. Unable to stomach actually drinking it, but somehow, having my hand wrapped around the glass provided some sort of placebo effect.
Numbness coming on all while I could feel myself fraying apart at the edges.
Unable to stop seeing the image of that little girl that had been imprinted in my mind. A brand-new tattoo that had been marked on my soul.
All while I toiled with the parting words Emery had given.
A clear-cut statement that she wanted me to stay out of the little girl’s life.
Maci.
Maci, Maci, Maci.
Her name spun around me like a dream.
A daze that dragged me into confusion.
Which of course, then led to another.
Emmalee Voss.
No matter how much I wracked my brain, I still came up with nothing.