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“Muffin?”
Riley scratches at her nose and opens her mouth, but closes it quickly. Her right hand scrubs at her face.
I reach over, gently moving her hand away before she can scratch herself. Tucking loose hair behind her ear, I gently pry. “Riley?”
My sweet girl looks between us. “I thought your momma was in heaven?”
“Oh.” Shelby looks at me, unsure how to continue.
I nod for her to explain.
“She is, baby. My momma passed when I was very young. Sylvia is my stepmom. She married my daddy and raised me.”
“Do you remember when she lived next door with Shelby?”
“And her daddy.” Riley nods.
“Yeah, muffin.” Shelby smiles, but I see the pain wash over her face. The loss of her father is still very fresh.
“But . . .” She looks even more confused.
We both wait patiently for my daughter to gather her thoughts.
“Max says . . .”
I groan internally at the name. This fucking kid. How can a child I rarely see be this annoying?
“Max says that stepmoms are mean. And that daddies don’t love you anymore when you get one.”
“Max is very wrong,” I stress. “We talked about this, baby. I will never stop loving you. Never.”
“Stepmoms can be super nice. Just like mine. We used to bake together and have girl days. She was a very good mom to me.”
“But . . .”
Again, we wait for her to continue.
Reaching out, Shelby strokes the back of her head.
“But she left.”
“She did.” Shelby blinks quickly, sadness clear in her voice.
“After Shelby’s daddy passed away, Sylvia was very sad in the house. She needed to move away where she could make new memories. It’s hard to explain, but you’ll understand when you’re older,” I try to explain.
“But she called,” Riley says, looking between us.
Confused, I nod.
“But she called,” she repeats. Riley blinks quickly before chest-heaving sobs leave her.
I flinch at the sound. Kneeling, I reach over the table and scoop her under the arms and lift her over the table top. Pulling her into my chest, I rub her back.
“Her mom left, but she called,” Riley wails.
My hatred for her mother doubles. Pain stabs at my heart. Her mother isn’t the only one to blame.
My ex-wife cheated, and her lover followed her to Cromwell. She was going to leave and take my daughter with her. Over my dead body, or more specifically, in the end, theirs.
