Page 15 of This Broken Heart

“He won’t let me do anything. He’s treating me like a guest.” I pause, looking around the tidy little kitchen. “Honestly? I think he’s still deciding if he wants to keep me or not.”

“Are you sure? Everyone loves you, Erin. You’re so happy-go-lucky.”

I shrug. “Something’s up. I’m not sure I want to stay, anyway.”

“What’s he like?”

“Josh?”

“Is he handsome?”

Oh, yes. Very. “He’s okay.”

“I think you just need to give it some time.”

I frown. “You don’t want me to come back?”

“I’d love it if you came back, but you need this, Erin. You’ve been down in the dumps ever since you and Matt split up.”

“You make me sound like a lovesick puppy.”

“I think you’re a creature of habit. This move is going to stretch you, but it’s going to be good, Erin. I can feel it. You just have to be patient.”

Maven starts fussing in the other room. “I got to go. Maven’s waking up.”

“Okay. Good luck, honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Setting my phone aside, I go in search of Maven.

Her room is light and airy with a woodland theme. I can almost picture Ana picking out every detail. Maven stands in her crib, face grumpy and tear-stained. I pick her up and she pulls back, looking up at my face. Now that it's just the two of us, she isn’t so sure about me.

That’s to be expected. I’m a stranger to her.

“How about we go make some play dough?”

She nods, slinging an arm around my neck.

I don’t know how long I’m going to be working for them, but as long as I’m here, Maven is pretty good company.

10.

Josh

I step inside, kicking the snows from my boots before slipping them off. For a second, I think I must have left the radio on, but then I realize I don’t have a radio anymore.

That’s Erin’s voice, clear and pretty, spiraling out from the kitchen.

Guess that answers Trace’s question.

She sings beautifully.

I pause in the living room, noticing the new additions to the buffet. Fingerpaint dries on a piece of paper, Maven’s tiny hands imprinted all over it. I lift a plastic container and pull the lid off. I shove my finger into the soft, red play dough. How did they find time to paint and make homemade play dough?

I step into the kitchen without either girl noticing. Maven has a chair pulled up and the two of them are chopping vegetables. Maven has a play knife and is making a mess of a tomato, but she’s burbling away, happy as can be.

I tilt my head, taking Erin in from head to toe.

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