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“No,” Rhyland said decisively, shutting down the idea. “Paying you so you can take care of yourself and Grav is the leaststupid thing I’ve been doing with my money. This has nothing to do with you.”
“But, Rhy—”
“No.” He grabbed my shoulders, squeezing as he peered into my eyes. “Stop making this about our arrangement, okay? It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s myself. It took me all these years to figure out how to live my life, and now I’m playing catch-up.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re doing a pretty awesome job.” I smiled at him tentatively.
He gripped my waist and jerked me to him, giving me a peck on the lips. We’d been careful not to be handsy in front of Gravity. “Would you call yourself a fan, Cosmos?”
“Of my nickname? No. Of you? Absolutely.”
We swayed slowly to a soundless rhythm only we could hear. I pressed my cheek to his chest, feeling his heart beating all over the place, knowing mine was doing the same thing and that this was going to end in tears.
Most likely mine.
It was as if Rhyland had decided to go on a quest to destroy my ovaries that day. After Grav had spent time with Jolene, I gave her a bath, braided her hair, and did some coloring with her before dinner. After supper, we tucked her into bed, and the little traitor turned to me seriously and said, “Mommy, I wove you, but I want Uncle Rhyrand to read me a story.”
I pretended not to be offended and used the time to unpack my suitcase. But after ten minutes of waiting around, Rhy still hadn’t left Gravity’s room, and she still hadn’t yelled for me to come kiss her good night. Despite myself, I peered throughthe crack of the adjacent door, spying on them. Rhyland was sprawled out next to her in her floor-level princess bed, her head tucked into the crook of his arm, flipping a page in their book.
“…then Pooh said, ‘But I love honey,’”—he made a…was it a German accent?—“and Eeyore replied, ‘Yes, we know.’” He pinched his nose theatrically when he narrated the donkey, and Gravity giggled.
I leaned against the doorframe and grinned.
“Finally, Piglet laughed, ‘So do I!’”
Each character had its own voice and accent. Sometimes, Gravity would ask Rhyland to read the same page over and over again, then she’d laugh until her tummy hurt. I was shockingly disturbed by how hot I found it when my upstairs neighbor made silly faces, crossed his eyes, and attempted different accents.
Finally, they finished the book, and Rhy dropped a kiss on my daughter’s head.
“Words of affirmation?” he offered her.
She nodded seriously.
I loved that he’d remembered. I loved too many dang things about this man. My entire body liquified into something warm and delicious and content at his voice, his words.
He stood up, tucking the book between the bed frame and the mattress and covering her with her blankie. Mr. Mushroom was pressed close to her chest. “You are my favorite girl in the whole entire universe.”
“Even more than Mommy?” Grav gasped.
Rhyland’s eyes met mine from across the darkened room, and I realized he’d known I was there all along. He smirked. “Mommy is my favorite woman. It’s not the same category, little stinker.”
“What’s a caddegory?” She rubbed her fists over her eyes.
“I’ll let Mommy explain.” He slipped out of the room, and I sat down on the edge of my daughter’s bed and kissed her good night.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Is Uncle Rhyrand staying with us forever? Will he always be our neighbor?”
That simple question pierced through my skull like an arrow, making my head throb.
No, he wasn’t. In fact, soon enough, he wasn’t going to see her a few times a week—maybe not even a few times a month. He was going to live the new life we were setting up for him now.
I tried to keep my composure. “I’m not sure, sweetheart.” I stroked her braid’s flyaways from her forehead with what I hoped was an easy smile. “I mean, we’ll always see him. He is good friends with Uncle Row and the family. But sometimes you see a person a lot, and other times…not so much.” This was the nicest way I could think of telling her not to get attached.
Gravity pouted. “Well, I want to see him all the time. I wove him a lot. Maybe even as much as Granny.”