Willow

Two paint samples are in my hand as I hold them against a wall in the nursery.

Red or yellow?

I want to go with a neutral theme since we don’t know the sex of our babies yet. I drop them onto the floor when my phone rings.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hey,” Dallas says on the other line. “You busy?”

“Nope, just unpacking the rest of the stuff we bought for the babies and trying to decide what look I’m going for in the nursery.” I balance the phone between my shoulder and ear. “What’s up?”

“Maven’s preschool called. She’s sick. I’m swamped at the shop, and my parents aren’t available until this evening. Any way you can pick her up and hang out until I get a break from here?”

“Sure, that’s no problem.”

He lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be any later than five. There’s a spare key under the planter on the porch. Make yourself comfortable. There’s plenty of food in the house. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

I throw my hair up in a ponytail, change into shorts and a T-shirt, and hop into my SUV. I don’t realize what I’m about to do until I pull into the parking lot of Maven’s preschool.

I’m going to his house.

Holy shit. I should’ve told him I’d bring her back to my place.

Stepping foot in his house again is something I’ve been putting off even though he’s invited me countless times.

I take in a breath. I have to get over this fear, right?

There’s no way I would’ve gotten away with it for too much longer. At least it won’t be in front of Dallas in case I have a panic attack.

* * *

“Hello. You must be Willow,” the older woman behind the desk greets me when I walk through the front door and into the lobby. “Dallas said you’d be picking up Maven.” She picks up the phone and tells the teacher I’m here.

I look up at the sound of heels coming down the hallway. I recognize the woman from Maven’s birthday party but don’t recall seeing her again after the pregnancy outburst.

She stops in front of us and rests her hands on Maven’s shoulders. “Hi, Willow.” She gives me a red-lipped smile and holds out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Lawrence, Maven’s teacher.”

“She’s my aunt Beth,” Maven corrects.

I freeze up and blink a few times, noticing the similarities between her and Maven … and Lucy. Mrs. Lawrence—Beth—squeezes Maven’s shoulders.

She nods. “That I am.” Her voice turns soothing. “I’m Lucy’s sister.”

I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Damn, Dallas has thrown me so many curveballs today, I’m dizzy. I’m meeting the sister of his dead wife and going to the house he shared with said wife.

“She’s had a fever for the past hour. Thank you for picking her up. It seems everyone is busy or out of town today, and I couldn’t find a sub to come in for me.”

“It’s fine. I was, uh …” Getting a nursery together for my babies with Dallas. “Off work today.”

“I feel no good, and I’m sleepy,” Maven whines, rubbing her eyes.

Beth kisses her cheek before releasing her. “Get some rest, sweetie.” Her attention moves to me. “Please ask Dallas to keep me updated, and don’t hesitate to call if she needs anything.”

I nod, pressing the back of my hand against Maven’s forehead. She’s warm.

“Of course.”

I help Maven into the backseat of my car, and she falls asleep the first few minutes into the short drive to Dallas’s house. Even though I haven’t been back inside of the house since that night, I know where it is. We’ve driven by it dozens of times, and Maven has pointed it out to me.

I admire the large white farmhouse he restored years ago. There are large gray shutters on each side of the windows and planters under the ones next to the front door. It’s perfectly landscaped with bright pink roses and daisies. It’s a beautiful home.

The key is under the planter, like he said, and I follow Maven through the front door.

“Mommy and Daddy always let me sleep in their big bed when I no feel good,” she says, stomping down the hallway. “It’s right down here.”

Oh, honey, I know where it is.

I gulp when she opens the door. This is the moment of truth where I find out if I can go forward with Dallas or if I can’t get over him loving another woman. This is where I find out if I’m a quick screw because he’s horny. You don’t have to love someone. Hell, you don’t even have to like them to fuck them.

The familiar whitewashed wood bed sits in the middle of the large master bedroom. The plaid comforter is the same as it was that night. The scent in the room smells like him. Nothing has changed. My hands are on the verge of shaking as I help Maven into the bed.

That’s when I see it.

The picture of him and Lucy on the nightstand. There’s another of Lucy by herself on the other nightstand. Her … or another woman’s perfume is sitting on the dresser next to a white jewelry box with her name branded on the front. There’s a chair in the corner with a woman’s sweater draped over it.

Was that Lucy’s?

Or is it Chicken Chick’s?

“Will you put on cartoons for me?” Maven asks with a yawn.

“Sure.” I snag the remote from the nightstand and flip through the stations until I find her favorite cartoon.

She slides underneath the blankets and relaxes against the pillows.

I tap the bed as my heart thumps against my chest. My throat grows tight, and the room feels warmer than Maven’s forehead. “You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Will you stay?” she asks. “And watch with me?”

I nod even though all I want to do is abort mission and hang out in my car until Dallas gets here. I take off my shoes and sit down next to her, over the covers. That night haunts me as the opening of the cartoon lets out some annoying song. Maven snuggles into my side.

“Willow,” she whispers, hesitation layering her voice.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Will you be my new mommy?”

I blankly stare at her, fighting off the desire to flee the room, and try to give her the most comforting smile I can manage.

“You’re going to be my brother or sister’s mommy, so maybe you can be mine, too, since my mommy is in heaven.”

A knife digs into my heart, and I take in a deep breath to stop the tears. Maven looks just as upset as I feel.

I kiss the top of her head and then smooth my hands over her hair. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know my name at this point because my brain is spiraling out of control. “We’ll talk about it when you feel better, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” she whimpers.

She only lasts five minutes into the show before she dozes off. I slowly and quietly pull away from her and get out of the bed to grab my phone.

I catch my breath when I make it into the kitchen and drop onto a chair. I glance around the kitchen. More pictures of Lucy on the refrigerator. Another one by the coffeemaker. A grocery list that’s not in Dallas’s handwriting is stuck under a magnet on the fridge.

Will I always think everything is Lucy’s here? That Dallas wants to keep and display every part and memory of her, so he won’t forget … so he won’t move on?

It’s petty of me to think these things. He wants to keep those memories of her alive because he was a good husband.

But I can’t stop myself.

That’s why I need to take a break from him. Why I need to consider the consequences before throwing myself into a situation this serious. His daughter asked me to be her new mommy. That’s big. Huge. A little girl’s heart is on the line, and I can’t break it if everything doesn’t go well with Dallas.

I grab my phone and text Stella.

Me: You busy?

She got home from the bed and breakfast yesterday, and nothing was on her schedule for the day.

Stella: Nope. Just going over some scripts. What’s up?

Me: I picked up Maven from school for Dallas because she was sick, and now, I’m not feeling so hot myself. Would you be able to watch her until Dallas got home, so I could get some rest at my apartment?

Stella: I’ll be there in 15. You need anything?

Me: I’m good. Thank you.

Her answer slows down my heart rate. Now, I need to make sure she doesn’t notice anything is off with me. I need to put my actress face on and hope the actress herself doesn’t find out I’m a fraud.

I’m still in the kitchen when Stella walks in. She rushes into the room and falls down in the chair across from me.

“You feeling any better?” she asks with concern.

“Not really,” I mutter. “I just need to lie down. I’ve been working on the nursery all morning, and I think I overdid it. That, or the twins are pissed that I fed them a healthy breakfast this morning.”

She laughs and gets up to wrap her arms around my shoulders. “You take care of yourself, girlfriend. Call me here soon.”