“Good,” I growl and pull the files closer to me. “You can leave now. I would like to not be disturbed, and next time, I expect you to knock before you walk in.”
She nods before she leaves, and I can tell, from her dejected stance, that she wishes she had the courage to actually say what is on her mind.
As much as I don’t want to think about it or admit it, I’m not an idiot, and I know this is about her crush on me. Erica has made it pretty apparent to me over the last few months.
Maybe having Blaire around and her knowing about it is a good thing. Maybe this is exactly what she needs to be privy to. I hope this gives Erica a good idea of the fact that she is not the girl for me. I will never be attracted to her. Blaire is the woman I want.
Erica leaves, and I’m alone in my office again. I try to read through the files, but I can’t focus. I’m thinking about Blaire in this room. How perfect she looked. How fiery her eyes were when I walked towards her.
I woke up this morning with her gone from my bed.
I know it was the most practical thing to do. She really shouldn’t have stayed over, especially given that Lucy could have brought Anya back anytime.
But I can’t help wanting Blaire. I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would have been like if we woke up in each other’s arms.
Anya is back home when I return from the office. She and Rachel have already started the bedtime routine, but I take over.
“You were late today, Daddy. I haven’t seen you all day,” Anya complains as we sit down together in front of her mirror. I have her brush in my hand. In the last year, she has given me a few lessons on how she likes her hair to be brushed. How her mother used to do it.
“I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you over the weekend. I was just very busy with some stuff at the office, but I’ve missed you so much.” I place a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and she smiles at me in the mirror’s reflection. “Did you have fun at granny’s?”
Anya nods. She’s holding one of her dolls in her hands, whose hair she is brushing.
“Granny made me that cherry pie I like. The one she used to make for Mommy.”
I notice how Anya’s voice goes very quiet and soft and I know she’s thinking about her mother. I would like nothing more than to be able to make my daughter’s sadness go away.
“Maybe in a few years, you’ll become an expert at cherry pies and you’ll make me some too,” I try, but I don’t think that’s working.
“Daddy?” she says, and I look up at her. She’s stopped brushing her doll’s hair.
“Yes, baby. What’s the matter?”
“Did you love Mommy?”
The weight of that question falls like heavy bricks on my shoulder. I have to stop my brushing too. I’m not prepared for a question like this. She has never asked me this before. However, I look into my daughter’s beautiful brown eyes, and I smile.
“Your mother and I cared for each other very much, baby. She gave me the gift of you. I could never not love her for that. Do you understand?”
Anya nods but only gently.
“Do you love Blaire?” she asks, out of the blue. Where is this coming from? Fuck.
I fumble even more with this one and start brushing her hair again. Just so I don’t have to look at her.
“Blaire and I are friends, baby. She’s our neighbor, and your friend too.”
“So you don’t love her?” she insists.
Why isn’t it coming as easily to me? All I have to do is shake my head, grin a little, and tell my daughter I don’t love Blaire. Because I don’t, right? The sex was great. I love her body. I love kissing her and feeling her in my arms. But anything else…it doesn’t exist.
“Daddy?” Anya snaps me out of my thoughts, and I clear my throat.
“How about some cocoa before bed?” I ask, putting the brush down, and she jumps up excitedly.
I follow her out of her room, and I feel strange. I should have just answered her question. Made it clear to her that I have