Page 42 of Reclaim Me

The question makes her giggle, and when I pull my eyes away from her precious face, I find that Rae is laughing, too. Their audible joy makes the air around me warm, and I bathe in it, hoping I never have to know another day without it.

“You’re funny,” Riley says. “Do you like ice cream?”

“I love ice cream.”

Now Rae is pursing her lips, her eyes calling me a liar. She knows me and dairy don’t really get down like that, but what am I gonna do? Tell my kid I’m lactose intolerant and miss a chance to have an ice cream date with her? I think not.

“Mommy, can we take him to get ice cream, please?”

Cute, smart and well-mannered? Oh, I can already feel myself turning into putty, my now pliable form being wrapped around Riley’s pinky finger. Apparently, Rae already lives there because even though she tries to look stern, I can hear the surrender in her tone when she says, “Did you even ask him if he wants to go get ice cream with us?”

“Of course, I want to go get ice cream with you,” I answer before Riley even has the chance to repeat the question. “And I know the perfect spot.” I stand and train my gaze on Rae, studying her face for any signs of protest. “But we can only go if it’s okay with Mommy.”

Rae’s eyes glaze over, and for a second, I think I’ve fucked it all up, but then she blinks and everything is back to normal. She forces a bright smile onto her face and splits it between me and the kid.

“Ice cream sounds good to me.”

“Lick is the only ice cream place in town with decent non-dairy options,” I explain to Rae as we walk down the quiet city block with our frozen treats in hand. Riley is a few steps ahead of us, the vanilla ice cream on the cone she begged for melting rapidly onto her hands.

“Finally gave up your battle with lactose, huh?”

“Had to. It’s important to know when you’ve been bested.”

She rolls her eyes at my casual use of the phrase I was known for using on opponents when I fought in unofficial MMA rings during my army days. That part of my life was over by the time I met Rae, but I still regaled her with the stories, telling her all about my alter ego—The Reaper—and his favorite catchphrase.

“Ugh. Please don’t tell me you’re using that in everyday conversation now.”

I laugh and take a bite of my gelato. “Whenever I can, however I can.”

“I bet the people in your classes just love that.” Sarcasm drips from every word, but it makes me smile. “Mallory and I used to hate those little catchphrases so much.” She pulls her mouth down into a frown and deepens her voice so she can do a poor impression of me. ‘Next time, let your actions match your knowledge’”

“I remember.” I join her in her laughter, making mine loud and exaggerated so it’s really noticeable when it stops. “I also remember you being a lot better at mocking me.”

Rae rolls her eyes. “Boy, please, my impression was spot on.”

“If by spot on, you mean not even close.”

She bumps me with her shoulder, and I try my damnedest not to add layers of meaning onto the casual touch because Rae isn’t. She’s just existing, just letting me exist with her and Riley.

“You’re too far away, Ri,” I call out, my voice carrying down the sidewalk. Riley pauses and turns, waving like I didn’t just admonish her for breaking our agreement to stay within arms reach.

“Stay put, Nug,” Rae says, and we both pick up the pace until we’re close enough to Riley to see the streaks of vanilla running down her forearms. Given that she’s not a fan of stickiness, I expect Rae to whip out a hand wipe or some tissue to clean up the mess, but she doesn’t. In fact, she’s not even looking at Riley or me because she’s too preoccupied with the ‘for rent’ sign posted in the window of the building we’re in front of.

It’s an older building with faded red bricks and arched windows that tell a story of past grandiosity just waiting to be reawakened by someone. Because of its proximity to downtown and all the shops that have opened up around here that contribute a ton of foot traffic it’s the perfect spot for a business of some sort.

“I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched it up yet,” she mutters under her breath, a faraway look in her eye.

Riley tries to use her mother’s distraction to her advantage, but I see the intention to run off on her face and grab her by the hand to hold her in place. She squeezes my fingers and giggles when I squeeze them back.

“You know this spot?” I ask Rae, splitting my gaze between the building and her face because there’s wonder and hope there that I don’t know if I’m supposed to be witnessing.

My question seems to snap her out of her trance. “Yeah, I, um—” She bites her lip like she’s trying to stop herself from telling me what her connection to the building is. Then she shrugs like it doesn’t matter if I know or not and tells me anyway. “I was going to start a ballet school.”

“Was? Why was?”

Rae glances at Riley and then back at me, and I’m aware of the internal battle she’s fighting. She’s already let me in so much today, and giving me this, a glimpse into a part of her life that has nothing to do with our daughter, feels like too much.

“We should head back,” she says, tipping her head in the direction that we just came from.

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