Page 112 of Love Deep
“Mommy, I wish we could watch her again tomorrow night.”
“That would be super fun,” I reply. Maybe I would have been able to take it in a little more if I saw it again. All I could think about was Fisher. “But she’s not performing tomorrow night. This is the only show she’s playing in theUS this year. You’re a very lucky girl to have gotten to see it.”
“I’m a lucky girl,” she says. “But not just because I got to see Vivian Cross tonight. Because you’re my mommy.”
She flings her arms around me and squeezes me tight, and I kiss her on the head. Being able to bring her here, to see Vivian Cross, to experience New York—it’s been such a complete privilege.
The lights go up in the auditorium, and I deliberately don’t look over to where Fisher was sitting. Seeing him again was bad enough. We don’t need to draw it out.
“Follow them out of the seats, Riley,” I say, nodding toward the people leaving our row. “I’m right behind you.” I follow her out of the opposite end of the row to where we were talking to Fisher. I just want to get Riley into bed and have a few minutes to myself. I need to stop thinking about how unfair life is. Life isgood. It gave me Riley. It gave me my ability to paint. It’s beautiful. I’m being selfish for thinking anything else.
“Juniper!” Fisher calls from behind us. I pretend I don’t hear. Prolonging this isn’t going to help anyone. “Juniper!”
Fisher’s behind us, and despite wanting to keep walking, I stop, like my brain isn’t in charge anymore and my body is just doing what it’s told by Fisher.
“Hey, Riley. Hang on a second,” I say.
She turns, and her eyes light up as Fisher comes up behind us. I can feel his presence like you can feel when it’s going to rain. The air shifts and there are connections your brain makes.
He came back.
I turn, and he’s smiling at Riley.
“Did you guys enjoy the show?” he asks, scanning my face.
I shake my head slowly as Riley squeals and tells him all her favorite parts—which is all the parts. I can’t lie to him. I didn’t enjoy the show. All I was thinking about is how much I miss him and how I’ll never be truly happy, now that he’s gone.
Fisher’s gaze flits between us. He’s trying to listen to Riley, but I can see he’s concerned. I’ve given up trying to hide that I’m okay without him. I’ve given up trying to pretend that a clean break is going to make everything okay. Because it won’t. Nothing’s going to stop this hurt inside. I’m just going to have to learn to live with it.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he says. “I have a car downstairs.”
“We walked,” Riley says. “Our hotel is only a couple of blocks from here.”
“It’s late. My car will get you back more quickly,” he says.
I let Fisher guide me and Riley downstairs and along corridors until we go through another door, and suddenly we’re on the street.
“Here’s my car,” he says. He opens the back door, and the three of us slide inside, Riley in the middle. I should say no, but I don’t. He asks where we’re staying, and Riley gives him the name of our hotel and then jabbers on about the concert.
We arrive outside the hotel minutes later.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, and I reach for the door handle.
I’m still getting out of the car when Fisher appears and offers me his hand to get out.
I smile weakly at him. “Thanks. You didn’t need to.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with him. Not evenwhen he insists on seeing us into our room. “I’d like to talk. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”
“We’re on an early flight,” I say. “We have to leave the hotel at seven. And I need to get Riley into bed.”
“I’m so tired, Mommy,” she says, rubbing her eyes.
The three of us step into the elevator.
“Tonight then,” he says.
