some bastardized version of “Ring Around the Rosie.”
“You know,” Matthew said, breaking through my daze, “the first time I met her, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Do you remember that?”
Did I remember the moment where my brown-eyed, half-Italian daughter had looked straight into the eyes of a man carrying the same sort of blood between his veins? Did I remember the moment my heart stopped from wanting them to know each other more?
“Yes,” was all I said. “Yes, I remember.”
“Not just because she looks like you—stupid beautiful, of course—but because, I don’t know. There was something about her that just made me feel connected.” He shrugged. “Probably you. But I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. The three of us together. Maybe a couple more in the mix.”
I was silent as I watched the children, concentrating on staying perfectly still lest my face give away all my raging emotions.
“What about you?” Matthew asked quietly. “Did you ever think of it? You and me? Kids? A family together?”
I could feel his gaze on me, though I didn’t dare look at him. I thought of the house with its once-bright white paint. I thought of the backyard with the little stream and the deck with the rocking chair. I thought of Matthew in a large sitting room, wrestling with two children on the floor while I sat on a sofa, nursing our youngest.
“Many times,” I admitted just as quietly. “Every day since we met.”
And then, before he could say anything else, I turned to go inside and help Skylar with dinner. Because I knew no matter what, the look on his face would break my heart with longing. And I’d had quite enough of that for one day.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I’ll miss you, darling.”
My hands fluttered over Olivia once more, who stood patiently as I checked her over for the fourth time since I’d announced I was leaving. We’d driven as a caravan to Andover behind Brandon and Skylar’s large Yukon; Matthew and me in the car with Olivia. Skylar’s siblings were the ones who attended here, albeit as middle-grade students in a completely separate wing. The Sterlings had hustled their tribe in one direction, and Matthew had stayed in the car while I escorted Olivia through check-in at her own dormitory.
She was still dressed in her casual clothes, but her uniforms were neatly folded in the assigned wardrobe beside her bed, which we had dressed in the new bedding I purchased. While Matthew took the morning to teleconference with his office from the car, we had spent the last several hours decorating her room together with some new things and others taken out of her summer storage. Ironically, Olivia seemed to be more excited to rediscover her old stuffed animals and posters after a summer apart than at the prospect of hanging new posters on her walls.
Her roommate, a sweet girl named Veronica, giggled from her bed on the other side of their shared room, where she was reading some sort of comic book.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “My mom did the same thing. She’ll leave soon.”
“Not if I can help it,” I chided, suddenly overcome with the need to pull Olivia in for one more hug.
“Mom,” Olivia mock-complained, though the pink in her cheeks told me she wasn’t too upset.
Finally, I let her go. “Are you sure you have everything you need?”
She nodded. “Yes, and if I need anything, Ms. Hamlin’s room is just down the hall. She’s one of the nice dorm moms. We got lucky.”
“And you like your room? You two feel safe here?”
Veronica and Olivia both nodded.
“This room’s a lot nicer than last year,” Olivia said. “I like the view of the cherry trees. Plus, Ronnie and I are actually friends, not like me and Janet Horner.”
Veronica snorted. “Oh my gosh, ew! I feel so bad you had to room with her.”
While the girls gossiped a bit more about their classmates, I peered out at the aforementioned cherry trees, whose gnarled branches were currently swathed with green. I didn’t remember being this comfortable being alone at Olivia’s age, but then again, over the last few days it had become increasingly obvious that Olivia’s shyness had less to do with her innate personality and more with her surroundings. At Skylar’s house, and later here, she was confident and chatty. It was New York that made my little girl scared.
Just one more reason to make the changes we both needed.
“Okay, then,” I said reluctantly. “I suppose that’s