12-in-1 pack I got from Michaels - all the colors of the rainbow, and then some. We press and smear and goob different sheets of printer paper with swirls, hearts, happy faces, laughably misshapen cats and other animals.
As we're cracking up about our latest creation, a three-headed violet and lime turkey, it hits me: when she laughs, her hazel eyes crinkle just like his.
"Mommy?" Madison says, as I race for the bathroom.
"Be right back," I croak.
Inside, I brace myself against the sink, glare at my reflection.
You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot. How could you have let this happen?
She doesn't have any answers, and neither do I.
All I know is that he's encroaching into my time with my daughter now, and it needs to stop. Maybe I shouldn't have left his texts this morning unread?
I stay there for another few minutes, until I've got my cool back.
A few stray thoughts about Landon aren't the end of the world. Even if I'd really, really rather they weren't there.
All that matters now is that Madison has a good rest of the afternoon with her mom, until it's time for a sleepover at Grandma's. Part of me almost wants to cancel, to have Madison to myself, but I know my mom looks forward to these weekly sleepovers basically as soon as Madison leaves her house the week before. She even plans out activities and what book she'll read Madison days in advance. I think she misses being a mom.
After me, her and Dad tried having more kids, but it was no dice.
At Mom's, Madison races into her cookie-smelling house, hollering, "GRRRAAAAANDMAAAAS!". After a big bear hug, Mom sends her into the kitchen for cookies, then gives me a careful, annoyingly knowing look. "You're still seeing that man."
"Mom."
She knows I don't want to go there with her. At all.
Last time I listened to her love advice, I got my heart broken. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but at any rate, I'm under enough stress right now without having her thinking I've lost it for dating Landon again. Or going on dates with him again. Whatever you'd call this.
"Well, you just have fun, dear."
"Mom." I give her another glare. "Tonight, it's going to be me and Pirate Johnny Depp."
"Oh." I can't tell whether she looks disappointed or pleased. Mom's had a tough time trusting men since Dad. "Well, you do know he's single now." A wink.
I roll my eyes, smiling. "Yeah, I'll get right on that, Mom."
As I walk away to my car, though, Johnny Depp is the last thing on my mind. The first is Landon.
Since I ignored his last two texts, he's sent a few more, plus called. Damn it, he's really not going to let this drop, is he?
Do you really want him to? an obnoxious voice in my head asks.
I drive home, hitting every red light, annoyingly. They sure do love me.
Pamela, I already know, is out on a hot date. 'How you should be too', she told me the other night. And she was right, and I even knew just the guy - Harvey, the high-level banker I met at a friend's wedding who is handsome, successful, kind, and who has already asked me out half a dozen or so times.
But I haven't wanted to get back into any serious dating these past few months with this big case, and I definitely don't now. Who am I kidding? As long as I keep seeing Landon, it would be unfair for me to see anyone else anyway.
At home, I clean up Madison's and my art mess. I do some laundry. I cook enough spaghetti Bolognese for the next four days. I even color-sort Madison's freaking closet and send Pamela a picture.
Then, I cave. I call him up. "Hey."
"Hey, busy girl."
"What's up?"
"Us, hopefully. If you're free?"
"I..." Think brain, think. There must be one thing more to do... anything. "...have to go grocery shopping."
"What a coincidence."
"Oh?"
"I love grocery shopping."
I can't help it: I laugh. "Landon."
"It's true. The free cookies, the new flavors of gelato they have every time I go, the bulk samples."
"I'm pretty sure the free cookies are for children."
"Don't worry - I'll get one for you too."
"Did I invite you along?"
Silence.
Shit. Why do I have to be so mean?
"I guess you could come," I say.
"I don't have to." A lot less enthusiasm in his voice now. "Don't want to pressure you into anything."
"You're not," I say. "Grocery shopping is fine. Myers, OK?"
"The one on Hudson? Sure. See you there in 20?"
"30," I