Page 19 of Make You Mine
I rap my knuckles lightly on the door and wait.
“Hello, love,” I call out. “Guess who?”
There’s a beat of silence, then the rush of her footsteps. She wrenches the door open, eyes wide with delight and surprise.
“You’re home early?!”
“I am,” I say, offering a smile. “Come downstairs with me. I’ve got something to discuss.”
We descend the stairs together, her hand brushing lightly along the banister, mine lingering at the small of her back.
There’s a hum of late afternoon stillness in the air.
Quiet enough that I can hear the distant whir of the kettle left on standby and the faint sound of Widget’s giggles through the garden door.
I lead us into the sitting room, where sunlight slants across the floor in long golden stripes.
“Right,” I begin, loosening my collar as I lower myself onto the edge of the sofa. “So, Halberd’s been celebrating record-breaking quarterly gains. Big expansion plans. Not just here. They're pushing into Scotland next.”
Before Amerie can reply, the glass door slides open and Widget barrels in, dewy and breathless, leaves and twigs tangled in her curls. Chelsea trails behind her, rosy-cheeked and smiling politely, the sleeves of her cardigan pushed up to her elbows.
Widget heads straight for the juice jug on the sideboard of the fridge while Chelsea grabs two glasses and pours.
“Daddy, you’re home,” says my little girl, wandering over with her glass.
I wave a hand. “C’mere. You may as well hear it too.”
Widget wastes no time crawling onto the couch, clambering straight into my lap like she’s still three instead of five. She tucks herself into the crook of my arm, already sipping her juice.
I take a breath and get down to it. “I’ve been asked to go to Scotland on a business trip for three weeks.”
A beat of silence passes. Amerie’s face stays still, composed, but I notice the way her fingers curl around the cushion beside her. The way her gaze dips low when she speaks.
“Three weeks,” she repeats.
I nod. “Glasgow, specifically. The firm’s eyeing expansion. They want someone to lead the inquiry team.”
Chelsea’s watchful as the other two process the information. She hasn’t moved from the threshold. She’s still holding her juice, but she hasn’t taken a single sip.
Widget pulls away from me just enough to look up. “Where’s Scotland?” she asks, frowning like she’s just been told I’m flying to the moon.
“Still in the UK,” I tell her gently. “But it’s a bit far. Six hours, give or take.”
She gasps. “That’s forever!”
I smile despite myself, brushing her tight curls behind her ear. “Feels like it.”
I glance over at Amerie. “Which is why I’ve been thinking… I’d like you to come. You and the kids. Not for the full three weeks necessarily, but for a good stretch of it. Until Widget’s Easter break is over at least. I want the family with me.”
Amerie blinks, as if she wasn’t expecting that. “You do?”
“Yeah. If I’ve got to go,” I say, “I don’t want to be away from you. Any of you.”
Widget squeals in delight. “Can we go on a train?! I want to see castles!”
Amerie softens visibly, laughing as she leans forward to wrap her arms around us both. “I didn’t plan on a spring vacation in the middle of my deadline, but okay… so long as we’ll be together—and I’ll still get some time to write.”
“You will, love. I’ll make sure of it,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head.
For a moment, it’s perfect—my little girl bouncing with excitement, my wife pressed close, all of us tangled up in a moment of joy.
Then Widget turns her head and says, “Chelsea, aren’t you excited too?”
The uncomfortable truth hangs in the air—invisible but heavy—between the three adults in the room. Everyone but Willow seems to register what it means. Chelsea isn’t invited. She was never meant to be.
And to be fair, I hadn’t even thought to clarify it aloud when I said family . I just meant Amerie and the kids. It didn’t occur to me that anyone else might’ve expected something more.
Chelsea stands frozen by the doorway, hand still wrapped around the glass of juice she hasn’t sipped from. Her eyes flit from Willow to Amerie, then land on me, and stay there.
A faint flush creeps up her neck, blooming over her cheeks and into her hairline.
“Oh… erm.” She sets down the glass on the end table, wringing her hands. “I understand I’m not meant to come. Don’t worry about it. It’s, um… it’s a family thing.”
She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a sharpness to the way she says “family”, like the word pains her to utter it.
She pulls out her phone from the pocket of her jeans, tapping the screen. “I’ve just remembered I have a thing. Something I need to get to.”
She doesn’t elaborate. She doesn’t look at any of us again.
Amerie and I both glance at each other, the shift in the room obvious. It’s like someone opened a window and let in a cold gust.
Chelsea steps into her boots without bothering to tie the laces and hurries out the back door, coat slung over one arm. The screen door slaps closed behind her, followed by the faint crunch of her bike tires over the gravel path.
Willow looks up at me, innocent and confused. “Daddy, she didn’t drink her juice.”
“I suppose she was in a rush,” I say, keeping my voice even.
But even as I say it, I’m frowning after the door, my hand absently resting on Widget’s back.
I don’t know if I should feel guilty… but part of me does.
Maybe she felt left out. Maybe she thought she was part of the unit more than she was.
Maybe I should’ve said something kinder. Something to soften the blow.
But what would that be, exactly?
This is a family occasion and she’s not one of us. She’s only the nanny.
Amerie shifts beside me, and when I look over, she’s still watching the door too, lips pressed tight.
“D’you reckon she’s alright?” I murmur.
She doesn’t answer right away. “She’ll be fine.”
Willow leans against my chest, humming to herself as she plays with the buttons of my shirt.
I kiss the top of her head and pull her a little closer, letting the silence settle again. Still, my mind lingers on Chelsea’s flushed face and the brittle sound of her voice. And that word again.
Family.