Page 71 of The Me I Left Behind

“All right, Chloe,” Maggie said, staring down at the selfie art project instructions the next morning. “Your project is due on Monday, so we should probably get started today when you get home from school.”

“Goodie!” Chloe mumbled between bites, then looked up at her mother and smiled.

Maggie grinned back and watched her daughter happily gobble up her pancakes—with extra syrup and butter—and sausage. Heaving a sigh, Maggie focused again on the project paper, then glanced at the box of supplies they’d picked up the day before yesterday. “Do you think we have everything we need?”

“Maybe…” Chloe swiped syrup from her chin with a napkin. “We have paint and brushes and the big thing to paint on.”

“The canvas. That’s what it’s called.”

“Canvas. Yeah, I forgot.” Chloe cocked her head. “Did we get glitter?”

Maggie drew in her lower lip. “Glitter?”

Chloe beamed. “Yeah, because I sparkle.”

She had to laugh out loud. Her baby girl was growing in so many ways since Max had stepped out of their lives. She loved her little personality.

“Then I’ll pick up glitter after I drop you and Jason off this morning.” She glanced down the hallway toward Max’s office. “You know, I was thinking… Let’s turn Daddy’s office into our art studio. What do you think?”

“Yay!” Chloe shoved her pancakes away. “You mean I can go in there?”

That panged her heart a little, but she pushed the feeling away. “Yes, you can.” She rounded the island and gave Chloe a hug. “I’ll get some things today to get us started, and we can work on your project in there tonight.”

“Oh, goodie, Mommy.”

Carol rushed into the kitchen. “Oh, my God. I’m late. He is going to kill me.”

Maggie shot a look at her. “Sweetheart. Slow down. Who is going to kill you?”

“Logan.” She sighed.

“Good grief. Get something to eat, please,” Maggie told her. Why is she so agitated?

“I’ll grab a granola bar at school. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

A horn blasted from the driveway.

“Impatient, isn’t he?”

Carol sighed. “He worked all night, overtime. He gets testy when he’s tired.”

The horn again.

Maggie frowned. “Will you tell him not to do that, please? We have older neighbors who sleep in, you know.”

Carol exhaled. “Okay. It’s just that he’s tired.”

“Well then, he should go home and go to bed, and I’ll take you to school.”

Her daughter’s eyes flashed bigger. “But this is practically the only time I get to see him! He works so much. This week is mandatory overtime.”

“The boy should be in school.”

Carol glared. “He can’t, Mom. You don’t understand.”

Maggie shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Sorry. Gotta run.”

---