She nods. “For what it’s worth, I always thought you and Mr. Davenport made a great couple. The perfect balance. I know you didn’t start off on the right foot, but I could see the connection, even as an outsider.”
I offer her a parting smile. The more she talks to me about it, the more painful it feels.
“Thank you, Rachel, but that is where you’re wrong about this whole thing. Mr. Davenport and I were never a couple.”
I go in and shut the door behind me. My chest is heaving. My heart is pounding. I just want to go to sleep.
Maybe I should sell this apartment and move away. Maybe that is the only way I can rid myself of him.
23
Trevor
It’s Sunday morning and Anya wakes up late. In fact, for the last few weeks, she has been acting up. She went through a phase like this right after Nicola died. She didn’t want to listen, didn’t care about following instructions, stayed in bed sleeping until I was able to coax her out.
And now she’s sitting at the breakfast bar in our kitchen, pushing cornflakes around in her bowl without actually eating any of it.
I know this is all down to the absence of Blaire from our lives. I don’t think even she realizes what is making her act this way, so I can’t really blame her for it.
“You’re not hungry?” I ask as I take a sip of my coffee. She looks up with a bitter expression on her face and eyes my mug.
“Can I have that?”
“Coffee? No, baby, you’re way too young for it. I’ll let you taste it in a few years when you’re older.”
She crosses her arms angrily over her chest and presses back into her chair.
“Why do you get to do all these cool things and I don’t?”
“Anya, honey, we’ve talked about this before. When you’re older, you can make all these decisions for yourself.”
“I just want a taste of your coffee.”
“Well, you’re not getting it,” I say and slam the mug down on the table.
Her nostrils flare defiantly. Where has my sweet girl gone?
I haven’t been able to give her a satisfactory explanation for why Blaire has disappeared from our lives. At first, I said she was just very busy at work, and then I had to tell her we’re not friends anymore. She cried and threw a raging fit. I have tried to be as gentle with her as possible about this, but it doesn’t seem like it’s working.
She turns her face away from me but I know she’s scowling.
“Why don’t we do something fun today? We could go to the museum and see the dinosaurs?”
“Blaire likes dinosaurs. She wanted to go to the museum too.”
“I’m sure she can go whenever she likes,” I mutter, and Anya gets off her chair.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady? You haven’t touched your breakfast!”
She walks to the living room and I hear the TV come on. Dammit. I need to figure out a plan; she is already behaving like a teenager, and I need to rein her in.
The bell rings as I’m putting our dishes away. I walk past Anya sitting sprawled on the couch watching cartoons. I open the door and see Erica standing there.
“Good morning, Mr. Davenport. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop these off.”
I’m so surprised to see her that I haven’t noticed the big wicker basket hanging from her elbow.
She opens the lid of the basket and I see a collection of glass jars with what seems like jelly.
“Strawberry jelly. My mother has a strawberry bush and she’s had a good year. We didn’t know what to do with it, so we made lots and lots of jelly.”
I am still in relative shock. Erica has never just shown up at my apartment before, and now she’s brought gifts!
“Can I come in?” she asks with a jolly chuckle, and before I can respond, she has already stepped into the apartment. I watch as she follows the sound of the TV to the living room.
She has managed to make herself very comfortable in her surroundings in no time.
When I go into the living room, I see her talking to Anya. My daughter is peering into the basket and checking out all the glass jars. Erica looks up at me with a bright smile.