or called him Dad. Just he or him. I don’t blame her. But I notice.
“No. I work with him.”
“But you’re in his house. At night. And you look…” Her cute button nose wrinkles as she gives me a once-over that rivals her mother’s.
I will not be embarrassed by a child. I refuse. My hand instinctively wants to go to my hair, but I keep it in my lap. I know how I look. A swollen eye that’s turning black. Messy ponytail with a million flyaway hairs coming up off my head like the kind of downy feathers baby birds have. A wrinkled blouse that has dried funny after being soaked in Gavin’s sweat. I’m the hottest of hot messes. I suspect that I also smell.
“This is my first time here as well. Gavin got sick and asked for my help.” And I had no idea when I answered what that would entail. Certainly not this. “And so we need to go to bed.”
Ella crosses her arms. “I’m not in the mood for bed. I’d like to watch YouTube on my tablet.”
“You can do that in bed.”
“I’m not going to sleep.”
I sigh. “I didn’t say you had to sleep. I can’t make you. But it’s time to get in bed. I’ll show you to your room.”
“It’s not my room.”
She isn’t wrong, but I feel like a crazy person arguing word choice with a little girl. “I’ll show you to the guest room.”
“And where are you sleeping? With him?”
Thanks, Ella. Put ideas in my head that don’t need to be there. Me and Gavin—a not sick, not smelly version—cozied up in his soft sheets. Yep. Didn’t need that mental image. Think of his smell. Think of what the women in the office would say.
Think of the fact that he has a daughter.
That one sobered me right up.
“No. I told you—I’m not his girlfriend.”
Ella shrugs and her next words break my heart a little bit. Okay, it breaks a lot.
“Lots of men sleep over who aren’t mom’s boyfriends. She says it’s no big deal and one day I’ll understand.”
I don’t know what exactly to say that won’t sound like I’m totally judging her mom, though I am. Honestly, I’m judging Gavin a little too. How could someone like him marry someone like the woman I hate more with every fact I learn? It’s like peeling back the layers of an onion only to find it a little more rotten the deeper in you go.
“That’s not how I do things. Maybe for your mom, it’s not a big deal. It is to me. I’m sleeping on the couch. I’ll be checking on Gavin, and I’ll be right out there if you need anything.”
“What would I possibly need?”
Probably nothing. That’s the air she wants to put off anyway. But as someone who wears a lot of armor, I’m seeing the chinks in hers. She’s putting up a good show, but she’s at best uncomfortable, and at worst, terrified and upset that her world just got upended. I would be too.
I force a more gentle tone that I’m used to using. “I’m not sure what you might need. But I’m here for whatever that might be.”
“Okay.” She nods, and like that, gets up and begins wheeling her pink Louis Vuitton bag toward the guest bedroom like she’s done this a hundred times. Maybe she has. Maybe her mother carts her around to different men’s houses and leaves her. I really hope not, but based on the events of this evening, I wouldn’t doubt it.
I follow her down the hallway, turning on lights as we go like this is my house and I have any right to do so. Ella walks right into the room, looking around and finally nodding. It’s weird to see her in this space, which has the same grown-up, masculine decor as the rest of the house. When she sits down on the bed, her feet don’t touch the ground, and for some reason, this squeezes my heart.
“The bathroom is right across the hall. I’ll find some towels. Do you usually take a shower or bath before bed?”
Ella shrugs. “I can do it tomorrow. Maybe we can swim. I like swimming. The pool looks awesome.”
That’s the only positive thing she’s said this whole time, and I cling to it, making a mental note to tell Delilah that she needs to bring my bathing suit in the morning.
“Do you need anything else? Water? Or … a bedtime story?”