Page 30 of Reluctant to Love

I round the corner and there she is, the biggest smile ever on her face. She’s sitting on the couch; her strawberry blonde hair is loose and wavy and she’s wearing a set ofFrozenpajamas with the funny snowman all over them.

“Hi,” I say tentatively.

“Hi,” Izzy responds shyly. Her little green eyes glance at Eleanor. “Is dis your friend mama?”

Eleanor nods. “Yes. This is my friend Roderick. He’s a very famous writer.”

“Not that famous,” I correct her.

“I like books,” Izzy states with a sweet smile. “Wanna see?”

She scrambles off the couch and shuffles over to me. She looks up at me with big green eyes as if she’s contemplating exactly who I am before she latches onto my hand with her tiny one.

“Come on Roddick,” she insists.

I back over my shoulder toward Eleanor. She looks stunned, standing in the living room, holding the bouquet of balloons. Then she glances at me and shrugs with a content smile.

I follow behind Izzy, shortening my steps to keep pace with her tiny feet. As we make our way through the house, I notice it doesn’t seem like Eleanor’s house. I can see bits and pieces of Izzy – a toy here and there – but the framed family photos are in black and white and the décor seems a bitold.

Izzy leads me down a set of linoleum covered stairs and into a wood-paneled basement. It’s an explosion of toys and color. I turn back, looking up the stairs and wonder if the house belongs to Eleanor’s mother.

Izzy drops my hand and scampers over to a white bookshelf. She reaches for a book, sending half a dozen more tumbling onto the ground, and holds it up with a grin.

“Dis my favorite, Roddick,” she says as she hurries back to me.

I sit down on the overstuffed blue couch and wait for her to climb up beside me. My eyes search the room, landing on a stack of mail. Out of curiosity, I pick it up. Bill after bill after bill; some are even marked with an ugly red “Final Notice” stamp.

It hits me hard how drastically different our lives are now. I live a charmed, but lonely, life while she struggles. The enormity of my decision to lie about Famke smacks me right in the face. I should have known better; I was a married man. I was older but apparently not wiser.

I feel a tug on my sleeve.Izzy. She’s sitting beside me on the couch, holding the book in her tiny hands. “Read to me,” she demands in her sweet voice.

I place my arm around her, drawing her close and slip the book from her grip.

This is my chance to make amends and I won’t fuck it up.