“Nope. You’re Mommy is spending the evening with Leah doing super-secret girl stuff. I’m not allowed,” he teased as he scooted his spoon around the ice cream pushing the nuts to my side of the bowl. He hated nuts.
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he returned the favor, laughing. Maddie giggled at our childish behavior before digging out an enormous bit of strawberry ice cream and shoveling it into her mouth. She looked like a chipmunk storing food for the winter.
“Well, it’s not like you are going to be lonely. When does Declan’s flight arrive?” I asked.
Declan was a one of Logan’s friends since boarding school and was an up and coming actor in Hollywood. I’m sure Leah knew all about him, including his shoe size, his favorite type of food and who he was currently banging, but I had chosen not to mention his visit because he wanted to keep a low profile. As much as I loved her, Leah was anything but low profile. A Civil War film he was starring in and executive producing was scouting the area. Declan was here to follow up on a few possible locations the location manager had found.
Apparently production was his true love and acting was just something he fell into. Having looked him up online out of sheer curiosity, I could understand why. With a rock hard body and a bad boy image, Declan was seriously hot.
Since I was spending the evening with my best friend, Logan was spending some time with one of his. Although Logan didn’t look too happy about it. Something told me their relationship was strained and Logan would rather not being spending a night with his longtime friend. But he agreed anyway, and after picking him up from the airport, they were going to meet Colin for dinner and go do whatever else boys did for entertainment.
“He arrives in an hour, which means I need to head out,” he announced in answer to my question.
“Okay, have fun. But not too much fun,” I said with a quick wink before leaning across the table to give him a brief kiss goodbye.
“Promise,” He grinned, sliding out of the booth. Before leaving, he bent down to Maddie, ruffled her hair and gave her a quick tickle in the side, which caused her to laugh.
“See you later, princess.”
“Bye, Logan!” Maddie said before returning to the sundae.
I watched him as he disappeared out the door and walked to his car. He tossed on a pair of sunglasses and ran his hand through his disheveled hair before gracefully sliding into his car. Yum.
My attention returned to Maddie, who was currently shoveling ice cream in her mouth like it was her last day on earth.
“Hey! Leave some for me!” I said, pushing her spoon out of the way with my own.
She giggled again and we continued to eat the ice cream, talking about preschool and enjoying our time together for the rest of the afternoon.
“Okay, I think that’s everything Mom,” I noted, managing to haul the last of Maddie’s things into my parent’s house. Who knew a four-year-old required so much stuff for a sleepover? I swear I used to pack less when she was an infant. It took us forever to get here because we sat in her room arguing over how many stuffed animals she had to bring with her. We compromised on three, which was two more than I had wanted, but four less than she had originally requested.
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll take care of the rest. Just put it all in her room and I’ll make sure she’s washed and fed.” God, I loved my Mom. She was a saint. As soon as Maddie was born, my Mom turned one of the spare bedrooms of the house into “Maddie’s room” with pink and purple wall paper, gingham curtains, and a beautiful handmade quilt for the twin bed. Until she was old enough, there was a portable crib in there, but that was long since gone. Even before Ethan got sick, my Mom and Dad were always willing to take Maddie if we needed a night off. Both of them were retired, so I think having the chaos of a young one in the house gave them something to look forward to.
“Thanks Mom. I really appreciate this. Leah and I are looking forward to a night out,” I confessed.
“It’s no problem. You know I don’t mind taking her. For whatever reason,” she lingered, making clear she knew more than she was letting on.
“You know, don’t you?” I asked bluntly.
“Yes, Leah mentioned you were seeing someone.”
Annoyed at my mother and BFF for talking behind my back, I asked, “I swear, did you adopt Leah somewhere down the road, and I just didn’t know about it?”
“You know she’s always been like a daughter to us. But you are my actual daughter. You could have told me. Are you ashamed?”
“What? No! I’m not ashamed. I just thought...I was afraid you would be angry, or...feel betrayed,” I admitted.
I made the difficult decision to move on, but had my parents? It was still something I struggled over, and something I battled with constantly. But I didn’t give them the choice when I made my decision, and I didn’t know how they would react.
“Oh sweetheart, no. You loved Ethan more in the few years you had together than most people do in a lifetime. You gave that man everything and he gave you everything in return. But don’t think you are done because of it. Ethan died, yes, but you didn’t. When you married him, he became our son and I loved him more than I can say. His death hurt us all, but that doesn’t mean you should carry that sorrow forever. I want nothing more than to see you happy again,” she assured me.
My Mom always seems to know the right words to say and the exact moment to say them.
I nodded, letting the tears fall freely down my cheek. And just like she used to do when I bruised a knee or came home from school with another broken heart, my mom pulled me into her arms and held me. Her warm, familiar embrace gave me the comfort only a mother could.
“Does this man make you happy, Clare?” she asked softly.
“Yes Mama,” I answered, pulling back to look into her beautiful green eyes that mirrored my own.
“Do you love him?”
“I think so. I don’t know yet,” I answered honestly.
“Take your time, sweetie. Know your heart before you give it away.”
Later, as I was readying myself for a night out with Leah, my thoughts drifted to the conversation I had with my mom, and I found myself looking over at my nightstand, the keeper of my husband’s last words. I hadn’t forgotten the letter. I still pulled it out late at night when I needed to feel him close to me. When the memory of him felt too far away and I couldn’t quite remember the exact sound of his laughter or the way he looked in the morning when he’d just woken up, I’d touch those frayed edges and remember.