32. Wildflower

32

Wildflower

Little Thread Of Gold

"Okay, but do you know what the invisible string theory really is? It can't be your favorite song if you don't know what it means." The deep, familiar voice resonates with me as I step off the bottom stair into the dining room.

I woke up in bed alone, on my own. Lou and I have a deal: I wake her up on school days, but she wakes me on weekends, normally before eight o'clock. When I got out of bed ten minutes ago, it was ten-thirty-seven. I don't think I've slept in that late since before she was born.

I scrambled into clothes and ran into her bedroom to check if she was still asleep, only to find her bed empty. That's when the smell of cinnamon and sugar hit me. Assuming Everett had snuck out early this morning, I wasn't expecting to find him in bed with me when I woke up, even if I wished he was. The last thing I imagined, though, was that I would hear his voice coming from the kitchen when I descended the stairs.

I stop inside the dining room, knowing they can't see me yet. From the angle where I stand, I can make out half of Everett's tall, broad body standing next to the stove with what appears to be a bowl of pancake batter—based on the flour, sugar, and eggs covering the counter—in front of him. My daughter sits beside him, legs dangling off the edge as she watches Everett cook. Taylor Swift, of course, floats quietly through the room.

"Wait, it's a real thing?" she asks.

"It's a real hypothesis some people believe in."

"What's a hypothesis?"

"Okay…I actually am not smart enough to explain that to you. Ask your middle school science teacher in like three years." Everett laughs. "Let me think of an example of an invisible string, though."

They're quiet for a few moments, and I can't help but watch them as he pours batter onto the griddle. Lou watches him while she plucks cut strawberries from a bowl and pops them in her mouth. I move to the side so she doesn't see me, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

"Okay, I've got it," Everett says. "Do you know how your Aunt Darby met Leo?"

"She lived here with my great grandma when she was a teenager."

"Right. While your mom was pregnant with you."

"Oh." Lou pauses. "I didn't know that part."

"Yep," Everett continues. "So listen to this: if your mom hadn't gotten pregnant with you, Darby never would've spent that summer here in Pacific Shores. In this very house. She never would've met Leo. Then, she never would've moved back here and Leo never would've bought this house. You and your mom never would've moved here. I would've never met your mom, and you and I wouldn't be sitting here right now making pancakes."

He's quiet for a moment, and I wonder what Lou's face must be expressing to all that. I can feel my own stomach flipping upside down and inside out at his words.

"Why would Aunt Darby come here because my mom was pregnant with me?"

My stomach drops. Only silence answers her question.

It goes on so long, I'm about to step into the kitchen, but I'm stopped short when I hear Everett clear his throat. "Well, you know…being pregnant is hard on the body. A woman grows an entire human being in her tummy, and that's a lot of work. Sometimes, she can get sick or tired. She'll need to be taken care of. I think…" I hear him huff. "I think your grandparents wanted to make sure your mom had plenty of space to feel comfortable, and I think they wanted to make sure they could take care of her. I think they also wanted your aunt to have a fun summer while your mom worked on making you."

Those are all horrendous lies, but the truth of that summer and the way my parents treated my pregnancy isn't something I ever want Lou knowing. If she'd asked me that question, I'm not sure I would've been able to answer it, not sure I have the ability to lie about them that way, even in the spirit of protecting her. The fact that Everett knew exactly how to answer in a way that both protected Lou and respected me has my knees ready to buckle.

"The point I'm making," he continues, " is that you're an invisible string, Luz. Without you, none of us ever would've met each other. Do you know how much happiness and love you've brought into our lives just by existing?"

Butterflies explode in my chest, and I find myself clenching my heart with my hand.

"Your life?" Lou asks, her voice quieter than before.

"Absolutely. But not just mine. Leo and Darby. My mom. She loves you so much, it's almost scary." My daughter laughs at that. "You're that little thread of gold." There's some shuffling in the kitchen, and Lou laughs again. "Don't forget that, okay? You're meant to be. You're a fucking cool kid, and I want you to remember that if anyone ever tries telling you otherwise, got it?"

My soul feels like it's been set on fire, body raging with need to touch and love both of them, to see the bright look I know that Everett's words have put on my girl's face.

"Am I allowed to call myself a fucking cool kid?"

Everett cackles. "Not in front of your mother."

I'm fighting back tears, trying to calm my pounding heart when I turn the corner and enter the kitchen. "What can't you do in front of your mother?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.

Lou's eyes go wide, spotting me first. Everett turns, and there's a smile on his face when he takes me in. I can't help but return it, closing in on the two of them. I kiss my daughter on the forehead, and when I step away, I find myself being pulled into a pair of strong arms.

"Morning, mama." He smiles down at me, kissing me lightly on the lips.

"Are you the reason I wasn't woken at the crack of dawn by my child today?" I ask.

Everett winks. "I heard Lou had a rough night, so I thought I'd stop by and make you guys breakfast."

"He slipped a note under my door asking me not to wake you up and to come downstairs and help him," Lou adds. "We were going to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but you ruined it."

"Oh," I gasp dramatically. "I'm so sorry to ruin your surprise." I wrap my arms around her head as Everett goes back to finishing the pancakes. My heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest, and I allow myself to dream of this moment being the norm. For the first time, I let myself see it: going to sleep with Everett at night, waking up with the two of them every morning, watching my daughter love and trust a man who protects and loves her right back.

I want that reality so badly, it hurts, but the pessimist in me tells me it's far too good to be true.