Page 69 of Hold You Close
London
“Aunt London, are you going to marry Uncle Ian?” Ruby asks as I’m tucking her in.
Oh, Lord. This is the absolute last thing I want to talk about. “Umm.” I cough and fidget with her stuffed panda. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?”
“Yes, please. The one about the princess and the frog.”
Great. A fairytale about a frog turning into a prince. No symmetry there. “You’ve got it.”
I lean over to the stack, fishing out the book she requested, grateful that five-year-olds are so easy to divert from the topic you want to avoid. She rests her head on my chest as I read, showing the photos as I go. We get to the end and she lets out a huge sigh. “Uncle Ian could be the prince and you can be the princess. You fall in love and get married, just like in the book.”
Do I burst her bubble about her uncle? No, that would be cruel, but the woman in me can’t let this opportunity pass. I hear Sabrina in my head about not ever needing a man, but having one because you want him.
“You know, a princess doesn’t need a prince to be happy,” I tell her as I kiss the top her head.
“Really?”
“Yup. In fact, some of the greatest women we know don’t have a prince.”
She scrunches her nose. “But Uncle Ian looks just like the prince did. And he took us on the boat.”
Well, he looks better than the prince, but that’s not the point. “Your uncle is pretty great, but I think the princess is happy because she found someone who was a good man and loved her for who she is.”
Ruby yawns and moves to her pillow. “Okay. I still think you should be a princess and be happily after ever with Uncle Ian.”
I giggle at her reversed words. “It’s happily ever after.”
“With Uncle Ian.”
I’m totally not getting through to her.
“You never know,” I say softly. My heart aches a little as I remember how I felt like that about him once before. Ian was the prince of my dreams. I would’ve done anything for him to love me.
“I love you, Auntie London.”
I shake my head, pushing those thoughts from my head, and look back down at her. “I love you with my whole heart.”
“And Uncle Ian too.”
I laugh, knowing I’m totally going to lose this one to her. He’s her hero and he should stay that way—always. “Goodnight, pipsqueak.”
I tiptoe out of her room and check on the older kids. Chris is watching television and Morgan is creating the perfect Instagram photo, whatever that means. Much to my surprise, there’s not much to do around here. The laundry is done, dishes are clean, and everyone is functioning.
Well, I guess I’ll watch television . . .
My butt hits the couch and I realize how freaking exhausted I am. This weekend was crazy and I haven’t slept at all. I lean my head back and try to absorb all that happened today. Ian was so sweet. He went above and beyond to do something nice for me, and I appreciated it, but it was nothing compared to him asking me to stay.
There’s nothing on worth watching, so I grab my laptop from my bag beside me, and decide to do something to help me assemble my thoughts—I write. It’s been a long time since I’ve journaled, but as soon as I open everything, I know who I want to write to and what I have to say.
I open my email, and begin to type.
* * *
Dear Sabrina,
You’re gone. You’re gone and my life isn’t remotely the same. You gave Ian the kids, didn’t see that one coming, but they’re doing good. Thanks for the letter sort of explaining it. You really should’ve, you know, talked to me. I would’ve understood or at least bitched for a bit, tried to talk you out of it—okay, so maybe I do get why you didn’t tell me.
Anyway, losing you has been hard on all of us. Ruby wouldn’t speak—well, to anyone but me. Now, she’s back to her bubbly self. Morgan is doing great, she’s full of piss and vinegar. Chris had a hard time, but Ian helped him through.
