Page 136 of Trusting You
35
Carter
The next few days pass by routinely.
Locke’s not here, so Lily and I rule the apartment, but despite all the games, the baby destruction and literal spilled milk and the music I play to fill the silence, this place is empty.
I ignore the quaking in my stomach every time Lily talks herself awake in the mornings, and I roll over on the futon and get her. I haven’t taken up residence in Locke’s bed while he’s gone. The last time I was there, he was in it with me.
We visit Locke twice a day, scheduled around Lily’s naps, and each time, while he lights up for his daughter, I feel a little glitter is lost between us. His bright tone with Lily and flat questions to me tell me enough to understand he’s come to terms with my instructions to keep each other at a distance. I follow suit, but it doesn’t feel good. We’re worse than we were when I first met him—when we were all despicable passion and arguments and insults. Now, we’re simply…calm waters. No ripples, no warming temperatures, just an abyss with no movement.
In about half an hour, Lily and I have to be off for our second daily visit with Locke. All these car trips are eating into my cash, and I wish I could sell more paintings. Astor has offered to pay, but whether it’s pride or stubbornness or both, I don’t accept it. I’ll be back to my old job soon, saving and living and generally toiling through my days, so contributing to Lily’s happiness is the best way to spend my money anyway.
A knock at the door lifts my head up from where I’m scrounging through the couch cushions for Lily’s favorite toy, her rabbit. That sketchy thing has been one of the only sources of comfort for her and I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve settled her temporarily by opening the box of jumbo Legos Locke bought her— and stepping on one for the first time last night. Holy ouch.
“Who is it?” I ask, not bothering to stand.
Lily’s whispering something likely demonic as she builds a multicolored skyscraper with mismatched cubes.
Instead of answering, there’s another knock.
“I’m not answering until you tell me who you are!” I call back. I’ve lived in Brooklyn for almost a month. I know damn well not to open the door to an unknown caller.
“Way to ruin the surprise, you jerk!”
I pause in adding to Lily’s stack. “Sophie?”
“Yes! Let me in!”
I fly to my feet and unlock the deadbolt. When I see my string bean friend, her blonde curls twisting everywhere and her black-rimmed glasses flashing with my reflection, I squeal and throw myself into her arms. “Sophie!”
“Ack!” She falls back with my weight, but her arms come around.
“You’re here?” I pull away so I can see her better. “How are you here?”
“Because I’m your friend,” she says as if it’s that simple. “And the way you’ve sounded on the phone…I hate to say it’s been like you’re going to a funeral, because of Paige and all, but it’s honestly how you sound. Dead inside. And I only just got you crawling out of the first grave.”
Sophie, in all her frankness, has me set to cry again. I pull her into another hug. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
Lily, finally drawing her attention away from toppling over every stack I’ve crafted for her screams gets up on her feet, and wanders to Sophie.
“Oh-em-gee, she walks!” Sophie claps, begging Lily to come closer and coming down to her level. “Hi, baby! Or should I say, small lady, since you’re sashaying now!”
Lily babbles and tips over into Sophie’s arms. Sophie stands and lifts Lily over her head.
“Come in, come in,” I usher Sophie inside, and only now notice that all she has with her is an unbuttoned plaid shirt, a white tee, and black jeans. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Downstairs. It’s a lot to lug up.” Sophie sets Lily down.
“How long are you planning on staying for?” I ask.
“A few days, or however long you need me.” Sophie finds my hand and squeezes. “I didn’t want to impose, but I also couldn’t leave you here, alone. Especially when you…well.” She gestures to Lily.
“When I board my own flight,” I finish quietly.
“Come. Come help,” Sophie says, pulling me to the door. “Lily’s fine on the floor for five seconds.”
We fly down the stairs, where I see a light blue duffel and—and a wrapped-up painting.