God, I fucking miss you, Steph. You should be here with me. I always felt better with you by my side.
Now I’d be stuck with some stranger here telling me what to do, butting in, wanting to make changes so we could stand out. She’d probably cook up some bullshit publicity stunt and expect me to participate. Well, I didn’t want to stand out. I just wanted to do what I did and lead a quiet life. And it wasn’t like we were poor. We weren’t rich, but we were doing OK. Certainly better than our parents had done. Frowning, I rose to my feet and carefully laid Cooper on his belly in his crib. Kissing my fingertips, I touched his forehead one last time and slipped out of the room.
“He asleep?” Pete looked at me hopefully when I entered the kitchen.
“Yes.” I switched the monitor back on.
“Thanks. You’re so good with him.”
I shrugged, although secretly it pleased me I was good with Cooper. I was crap with the adults in my family. What did that say about me?
“Did you have a chance to think about what we said?” Brad asked.
I remained standing, hands shoved in my pockets. “I just don’t think it’s necessary, and I bet it’s expensive. What the hell will some city girl know about how to help us here anyway?”
“Maybe nothing,” Pete admitted. “But we’re going to find out. She’ll be here tomorrow at one for a lunch meeting. You coming?”
I scowled. I didn’t want to go to their damn meeting, because that would imply giving in, but if I skipped it, I might end up with no say whatsoever, and no clue what they agreed to do or how much they offered to pay her. Which was worse?
I’d decide tomorrow, but I didn’t want to show any chinks in the armor. “Whatever. You guys can deal with her. I want nothing to do with this.” I strode angrily through the kitchen and out the back door, but I was careful not to let it slam so that it wouldn’t wake Cooper.
The sun was setting behind the trees as I walked across the yard. I lived in an old hunting cabin tucked into the woods, which suited me perfectly. It had been on the property when my grandparents bought the land, and my parents had lived in it when they first got married; after that they’d used it as a guest house. When I’d moved back, its privacy and simplicity appealed to me, and I’d asked if I could live there and pay rent.
I’d made some structural improvements, and when Steph moved in, she spent every spare moment making it beautiful—paint and pillows and pictures in frames. Our little hideaway from the world, she called it. Not that she ever wanted to hide away, social butterfly that she was, but she knew I sometimes needed to, and that was OK with her. She never tried to make me into someone I wasn’t, unlike the rest of my family.
As soon as I let myself into the cabin, Steph’s cat leaped down from the windowsill and twined around my feet. “Hi, Bridget. You happy to see me?” The moment I knelt down and pet her, I felt my anger abate somewhat. I’d always been a dog person, but Steph had been allergic to them. When she came home with a kitten a few months after we were married, I’d groaned, but damn if that cat hadn’t grown on me. Whenever I had nightmares, she’d jump up on the bed and crawl over me, purring softly. It reminded me of the way Steph used to whisper to me during those long, arduous, sweat-soaked nights, her hands rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back.
When Bridget had gotten enough attention, she wandered into the kitchen, and I looked around, hoping to see something left undone, some task to distract me from going to bed.
But there was nothing. I always did the dishes right after I ate, and I never let laundry pile up. I’d just cleaned the bathroom two days ago, and I’d washed the kitchen floor over the weekend. The shelves were organized, the furniture dusted, the windowpanes clear. Georgia was always amazed at how clean I kept the cabin. “Your brother could take some lessons from you,” she’d say. “He’s such a slob.”
There was only one chore I refused to do, and that was cleaning Steph’s clothing out of the closet. Georgia had offered to do it. Steph’s sister Suzanne had offered to do it. Even my mother had said she’d be glad to fly up if I wanted someone else to take care of her things.
But I always said no. What would be the point? To make it easier on myself to live there without her? I didn’t want it to be easier. And if my family couldn’t understand that, well fuck them.
It was my pain. I’d earned it.
I guarded it closely.
Six
Margot