Page 83 of This Broken Heart
It feels good to be standing here with her.
Really good.
55.
Erin
Josh opens the sliding door, stepping out onto the patio. His boots crunch in the crusted snow as he crosses the yard to join me. He passes me a mug of coffee, wrapping both hands around his.
I sip it, tasting mom’s comforting take on Irish coffee. Brown sugar. Whiskey. Cream.
Josh grins at me. “You have no idea how excited I am about this.”
A large silver pot sits on the propane burner, bubbling and boiling merrily. It looks innocent, but that thing is full of liquid fire. So many things can go wrong when you deep fry a big bird, but my dad taught me well. I can almost hear him telling me not to overfill the pot with oil. To lower the bird in carefully.
So many of my memories of him are tangled up with food. Every meal was a celebration. It brought him so much joy, and yet, it took his life in the end. I still haven’t figured out how to separate the good from the bad, but I’m trying.
Josh holds out his mug, and I clink my cup against it. “Where are the kids?”
“Playing with your old toys and Marvin. I swear to God, that dog can see into my soul.”
I laugh. “He can read your mind, too. So look out.”
“Thanks again for letting us crash your Christmas. You really didn’t have to feed us.”
“Honesty, it’s a relief to have you here. I think it was cropping up to be a pretty depressing affair. Trace saved the day.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.” Josh studies the surface of his coffee. “I mean, he’s four, so he’s thrown fits before, but this was different.”
“You couldn’t distract him with presents?”
“We never opened them.”
I look at him, surprised. “Really?”
He shrugs. “We didn’t get that far. He was just convinced something bad happened to you and wouldn’t calm down until he saw you.”
“Does he ever get that way with Lisa?”
“No, but I think that’s different in his mind. She’s grandma.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I told him you’d be back after your vacation, but he was worried you wouldn’t come back. He said…” Josh stumbles over his words. “He said his last mommy never came back.”
“Oh.” My cheeks color.
He glances at me, dark eyes studying my reaction. “Yeah. Oh.”
I adjust the propane tank, trying to buy time to gather my thoughts. “He knows I’m a nanny, right?”
“Yes. But I don’t know if he knows what that means. He doesn’t realize it’s your job.”
“So, maybe he thinks nanny is another word for mom?”
He winces. “I think that’s possible.”
It’s so unbelievably sweet that Trace has picked me to be his mommy, but the misunderstanding is kind of heartbreaking. “Guess we better have a talk with him.”
“Yeah.” Josh is quiet for a few moments. “I didn’t think he remembered much about how Ana got sick, but obviously, he’s got that engraved on his little mind.”
“He’s getting to an age where he’s going to notice the differences between his family and the kids in school.”