Page 39 of The Fake Husband Play
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Me, too,” Elly says as we reach Mimi, who’s already pressed the button to call the elevator.
She turns back to me as we wait, asking, “Hey, Gee, is it too cold to swim in your pool at night?”
I shake my head. “Nope. It’s heated. You can swim in December if you want.”
The look of wonder that transforms her face makes Elly and me both laugh. “Did you hear that, Mama? We can swim at Christmas!”
Elly ruffles her hair. “I did. What lucky ladies we are. But only a short swim tonight, okay? It’s only a couple of hours until bedtime.”
“Okay,” Mimi says, slipping her free hand into mine as we wait like it’s the most naturalthing in the world.
My chest tightens, then fills, and in that moment, I know nothing will ever be the same.
Because this little girl? I want to be her hero. For keeps.
As we pile into the death trap elevator—me with the duffle bag, Mimi clutching her stuffies, Elly with all of Mimi’s things for school—I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. It feels right to be taking these two home.
I hope my home will feel like home for them too, soon.
And maybe they’ll decide they don’t want to leave for a long, long while.
Chapter
Eleven
ELLY
“Then Princess Nutriarode her alligator, Mr. Bitey, all the way back to the castle, far away from the evil rat king’s nest,” Mimi says, picking up speed as she nears the end of her bedtime story. “And the rats were still alive, but it was okay because they were too scared of alligators to follow them. So, they were safe, and they had a great night playing in the castle moat and catching fireflies and eating brioche because it’s their favorite.” Mimi yawns so wide I worry her jaw might unhinge. “The end.”
“That was a good one,” I murmur, smoothing her damp curls from her forehead. “How did I get so lucky? Most moms have to tell their kids night-night stories. All I have to do is sit back, listen, and enjoy.”
“And buy the storyteller a brioche so she can have energy for pretend. Maybe this weekend?”
I smile. “That can probably be arranged. One of the big ones from Sweet Magnolias Bakery?”
She nods. “One of the biggest ones. Fresh. So, the bread is still hot and the sugar is extra crusty.”
“The crustiest,” I promise, smile fading as I add, “You were very brave tonight, Meems.”
“I cried,” she says, sounding sheepish.
“That’s okay. It’s okay to cry. You were still brave. Having rats in your wall is scary. But you rallied and had fun playing in the pool, and now you’re going to sleep tight in your big new bed.” I nod. “You done good, kid.”
“Thanks. I like to be brave.” Her lips part on another canyon of a yawn. “Like you, Mama.”
My chest clenches tight.
If only she knew how often I’m faking it…
But that’s okay.
I’ll just keep faking it until eventually Iamthe strong, capable woman I’ve been pretending to be since I was a seventeen-year-old girl, alone and terrified that I didn’t have what it takes to be someone’s mother. Someday, I’m going to look in the mirror and see Eloise, fully grown with her feet on solid ground, not Elly, a kid walking around in her mother’s shoes, hoping no one notices they’re still way too big.
“Thank you, baby. I love you so much.” I lean down to kiss her forehead, breathing in that sweet Mimi cocktail—cherry shampoo, a hint of chlorine, and bubblegum toothpaste—as I check for signs of a fever. She rallied from her night in the hospital amazingly well, but worrying is a habit I can’t afford to break.
Not yet.
