“So I shaved mine off too. Bella’s not taking it very well. Nicholas is okay with it so far.”
He follows me into the kitchen, where Liv is standing a distance away from Bella, trying to coax her closer. Bella is staring at her mutinously, her arms crossed and her expression set.
“Hey, everyone,” Archer says loudly, pushing past me to grab Bella and swing her in a circle. She giggles, her expression clearing.
“Hi, Uncle Archer,” Nicholas calls, scrambling off his seat to come over.
“How’s it going, dude?” Still holding Bella in one arm, Archer high-fives Nicholas.
“Mom lost her hair and Dad shaved his head,” Nicholas says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t like it,” Bella cries.
“No?” Archer looks puzzled as he sets Bella down and approaches me, taking the cap off my head. He laughs. “Hey, man, the Mr. Clean look suits you.” He grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me into a hug and slapping my back. “You need to paint your head black like an eight ball or rent it out for advertising space.”
He chuckles again, all jovial cheer and humor, reaching up to rub my head. “Hey, Bella, come here.”
He turns to Bella, who is watching him warily. Archer grabs my neck and pushes my head down.
“It’s like a drum,” he tells Bella, rubbing my head again.
“He looks scary,” she says.
“It’ll grow back,” Archer assures her. “It’s not like when Nicholas cut off Miss Lulu’s hair and it didn’t grow back.”
Bella still doesn’t look convinced, but she tentatively reaches out to pat the top of my head. She looks at Archer again. He tousles her hair and moves to whisper something in Nicholas’s ear. Nicholas chortles with delight and races off to open the low kitchen cupboard where we keep the art supplies.
Archer says something to Liv, who nods and smiles. Next thing I know, Nicholas and Archer are organizing a set of finger-paints on the kitchen table.
“Up you go, Bella Umbrella.” Archer lifts Bella into her seat at the table and shoots me a glance. “Sit down, man.”
I see where this is going. I sit down and lower my head as Nicholas and Bella get their hands sticky with paint and begin to slather it on my scalp.
Bella laughs, slapping her wet hands against my head, happily indulging in her love of messes. Nicholas is more precise, painting swirls and designs that he wipes away with a paper towel before starting again. Their laughter is music.
Though paint drips down my face and into my eyes, and my neck gets a kink from being bent, I could sit there for hours letting our children paint my bald head.
Only when Nicholas complains that he’s getting hungry do they show any signs of stopping. Liv hands me a few towels to wipe my head. She’s smiling her usual Liv smile, the one that hits me in the middle of the chest every time.
“Awesome work, kids.” Archer grabs the pink paint and squeezes some onto his fingers, then paints something on the top of my head. Nicholas laughs.
“I don’t want to know,” I say.
“Thirty years, and I finally have revenge,” Archer remarks.
I go to the mirror in the foyer to find that my brother has drawn a pink bow on the top of my head. He follows me to the door, grinning.
“You’re an ass,” I tell him. “And a genius. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He glances down at my hand. “By the way, nice bracelet.”
“It’s a wristband.” I extend my wrist, which is still wrapped with the looped string holding Liv’s wedding ring against my pulse.
“Whatever you say, man.” Archer pulls open the front door. “Okay, I gotta get out of your hair.”
I shake my head in amusement as he grins again and goes to his truck. Thirty years ago, I’d never have imagined how grateful I’d be to have him as a brother. But today I know I’m grateful beyond words.
Chapter 30
Olivia
Winter melts into a rainy spring, with slushy puddles covering the streets and sidewalks. Our lives continue to be punctuated by doctor’s appointments and the hours-long chemo infusions, but the heavy weight is eased by the simple fact that every day, something good happens. Every single day.
Bella and I make perfectly round pancakes. Nicholas comes home with a decorated paper bag overflowing with Valentines from his classmates. We find new flowers on my lantana plant in the sunroom. I hear Dean reading Peter Pan to Nicholas and Bella, his deep voice filled with enthusiasm as he says, “I do believe in fairies. I do,