Page 91 of Give & Take

“Raph, seriously?”

“Sorry.” Tentatively, I wiggle everything that’s wiggleable. For good measure I look down between my legs. Everything looks intact. I’m wearing only jeans, plastered to me. I’m drenched, but unharmed. “I don’t—no? I don’t think so?” Then I grin again, rising up on my elbows. “I bodychecked a mountain lion.”

Lana dips her face down, letting out a long breath. “We call them cougars here,” she says. “By the way.”

“Well, what do you know?” I give her a wink. “I love cougars!”

Aurora’s having a full-on meltdown, which is unusual for the normally happy-go-lucky kid. Turns out your sister telling you your nanny might get eaten by a tiger will do that to a kid.

Nova, meanwhile, is freaking out in her own way, pacing the living room demanding everyone tell her every fact there is about cougars. I can tell she wants to prevent this from ever happening again.

And Lana—well, she’s been sitting at the kitchen island looking morose and massaging her wrist since I took Aurora from her, cradling the sobbing child in my arms to give her a break.

“Okay,” I say over Aurora’s head. “No more questions, okay? We’ll go to the library this week and get a book on cougars.” I tell Nova. “For now, look at your mom.”

Nova pauses, looking over at Lana, whose head is bowed. Then she looks at me.

I point my chin at her Mom again, miming a hug.

She finally gets it. Nova goes over to her mom and taps her on the shoulder. Lana pulls her in, hugging her fiercely, and for a good five minutes, they just hold onto each other and breathe.

Finally, Nova pushes off. “Now what? We can’t go outside.”

Lana looks to me, and I get it. She’s too spent to even make a decision. There’s a plea in her eyes.

“A movie,” I say. “Animated. With songs and rainbows and happiness.”

Nova brightens, then looks at her mom, frowning. “There’s no movies on Sundays.”

“I’ll make an exception today,” Lana says as she stands up from the island.

“Who’s gonna choose?” Aurora asks. “Nova always gets to pick.”

“No!” Nova’s indignant. “Aurora does!”

Lana moans, head down on her arms. I really want to scoop her up too.

“Dealer’s choice,” I say. “That means me. We’re watching my favorite one.”

I don’t actually have a favorite animated movie, but the last thing anyone needs is to fight about what to watch. I put on an upbeat one with singalong music I’ve heard Aurora sing before.

Then I settle onto the couch. Aurora, curled up on my lap, sighs as she lies back against my chest.

Nova huffs, grumbling something about the movie choice, but flops down next to me and is quickly engrossed, leaning against me.

Lana’s at the kitchen island, watching us. When she sees me look to her, she begins packing up her laptop. But instead of heading over here, she heads for the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask.

“You guys enjoy,” Lana says.

“Mom doesn’t watch these,” Nova says, eyes glued to the screen.

But I see the way her arms are tense as she hugs the laptop to her chest. The way she looks so longingly at the three of us, her lips pressed hard to stop a quiver. The way she clung to them so hard in the kitchen, I can tell she’s afraid of smothering the girls, that she’s trying to give them space while wanting so badly to never let them go again.

“You have to,” I say. I lock eyes with Lana. “Do you have a problem with this particular movie?”

“No.” Her voice cracks. “I’m just not much of a movie person.”

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