The snotty diva in me makes its appearance and I decide to go on about how I was going to cook my own cookies and eat them all by myself if no one was going to help me. I’m not proud of the maturity malfunction but it was getting under my skin that she was upset with me.
I won’t even go into the bedtime routine when only Ian could read the princess books. I mean, what the hell does Ian know about princesses?
By the time I hear Ian leaving Pippa’s room, my temper is skyrocketing.
The moment he shuts the door, I turn, whipping my hair in my face. I fight the locks sticking to my mouth. Before Ian has the chance to lock eyes with me, I take the bedroom throw pillow and whip it at his head.
And hit my target.
“What the hell was that for?”
“Why did you just let me crash and burn with her?”
“What do you mean let you?”
“You just let me mouth vomit all over that situation and confuse her even more! She didn’t even look at me at dinner!”
“She was busy eating, Chris.”
“Yeah, and only answering your questions. She didn’t even acknowledge me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know. The let’s snuggle up to Ian while the big bad wolf sits on the other side. I’m replacing her mommy and now she’s mad at me.”
Ian’s eyes soften. “She doesn’t think that.”
“Oh, yeah, she does. She didn’t even want to make cookies. That’s like crazy talk.”
“Well, I’m sure it didn’t help that you were badgering her after she said no.”
Wrong move, amigo.
“Badgering? She was giving me the stink eye the whole time at the table. She is four. She should not be giving adults the stink eye.”
Ian then makes another wrong judgment call and begins to laugh at me. “After watching the battle of who’s going to and not going to eat cookies, I think she wasn’t the only one acting like a four-year-old.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
I whip another pillow at his head.
Sadly, he cleanly catches this one. “Wanna throw another one of those at me?” he dares, taking a step closer.
I raise my chin defiantly. And then take a step back. “I will throw a billion pillows if I please.”
“And I dare you to try,” he challenges in his deep voice. There’s no hiding my now flushed cheeks. His predator side is clearly coming out and it’s completely turning me on. I try to fight it, as if he’s not fazing me.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I bite back, sounding less irritated and more aroused. I do my best not to break our eye contact, but I lose and I my eyes travel down to see that he is also very, very affected by our little banter.
He takes my moment of weakness as an opportunity and lunges. My squeal is knocked straight from my lungs as he takes me down, our bodies hitting the bed.
“Get off me,” I pant at him. Yeah, I sound upset about this.
“I have a feeling getting off you is the last thing you really want me to do right now.” He’s got me in a pretty tight bear hold, his hands beginning to roam down my ribs, leading to the waistband of my jeans. I swear if his hands dip lower . . .
Oh, God, they dipped lower. I need to stop him before he catches wind of my very wet panties.
“Hey!” I push my hands against his chest. “You better get me off. No!” Ugh. “I mean get . . . get off me!” I can’t focus on my fight anymore over Ian’s laughter.
“Sweetie, I will most definitely get you off. And if you are a good little girl, I will get you off more than once.”
“You know,” I breathe heavily, “cockiness doesn’t suit you.”
At that, he presses his very hard erection into my stomach. “The way ‘cock’ sounds coming out of your sweet mouth makes me want to oblige your request even more.”
Ugh. So smug. So, so hot.
“Now, why don’t you stop pretending like you don’t want me so I can get on with some more badgering.” And with that, he captures my mouth, and does exactly what I begged him to do. And that’s get me off.
Sometimes in life, we have to act a part that we don’t particularly want to act. This part for me is the adult. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did last night with Pippa, and for that I feel ashamed. She just lost her parents and I’m getting mad because she didn’t jump for joy that someone is here to take their place. We should have waited to tell Pippa the news. But in the scheme of things, I was excited. I thought Pippa and I were hitting it off. But I feel more ashamed because that’s not the point. It also really took me seeing the bigger picture to realize that I am truly excited to take this venture and be a solid part in Pippa’s life.
I wake up early to extend my olive branch and make Pippa breakfast. Don’t act impressed, I just poured milk and cereal in a bowl. While Ian is getting her ready, I go and sit in my normal chair so she can do my hair. If she takes the branch, then I will feel better. I watch her eye the cereal, then she eyes me. A true princess will never pass up the opportunity to dress up her fellow apprentice. So thankfully, I watch as Pippa slowly comes over to me and picks up her hair brush. She doesn’t say anything to me while she begins to brush all my hair to the left so she can get it into her specialty side ponytail. Once she’s done, she eyes the cereal.
“Is that Lucky Charms?” she asks, trying to act tough, her little lips scrunched up.
“Yep, and I even picked out some of the cereal so there are more marshmallows. Just for you.”
No one can deny the extra burst of marshmallow color glowing from the bowl. She looks from me to the bowl and back. She debates.
“Do you want to share it with me?”
As I bite my lip fighting the waterworks, I simply nod.
“I would love that.”
I make a decision right then and there. My doubts are nothing compared to my certainty. I love this little girl. My life is taking a detour. I didn’t plan this, and for the world I wish Amy was still here. But I know at this moment, this is where I am supposed to be.
FOR THE RECORD, IF there is one thing I don’t do, it’s clean. Like anything. I may actually be highly allergic to laundry, dishes, and garbage. If you were forced to scrub toilets and mop floors at the age of five because your mother is too clocked out, you would avoid those chores like the plague too.
But holy hell, get me bored enough, you have me spending twenty-five minutes trying to figure out how to use a damn Swiffer mop. I’m not used to sitting around not working. I’ve been a go-go-go type of girl pretty much since I landed in California. With no one to chat with—Lexi, who is busy working, which I envy and Ian also busy—I’m bored as hell. So that’s when I decided I could probably make an attempt to pick up the place. Starting with the kitchen.
I’m cleaning out the fridge when I get the call. I hear my phone ringing from the other room. I make it just before the last ring and I see it’s the lawyer’s office number filling the screen.
I debate on ignoring the call, but I know now what I have to do. I can’t keep putting this off.
“Hello?” I answer, inhaling a deep breath for strength. Make it easy. Not interested. Thanks for all your hard work.
“Hello, Ms. Daniels, it’s Rebecca from Mr. Sterling’s office. You are one hard woman to get hold of. I wanted to let you know that we have set up all the necessary housing that you requested. It is located just four blocks from a private daycare that also runs a preschool. 1,500 square foot apartment, three bedroom, all amenities included. I have emailed all the registration forms to your work account to fill out and sign. You will need to provide medical documents that the child has been vaccinated, of course. Also, will you be using direct deposit for the first and last months—”
Hold the phone.
“Wait—just slow down. I’m sorry, Rebecca, you are just spitting all sorts of information at me.”
“My apologies, Ms. Daniels, but we have been trying to reach you all week and the daycare is h
olding your spot so they need confirmation. The landlord also would like to see commitment to the lease.”
“I understand both. It’s just that—”
My phone beeps indicating I have another call coming in. I pull it away to see Pippa’s school.
Oh no. Not again. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, I need to call you back.”
“But, Ms. Daniels—”
I hang up on Rebecca mid-reply and switch over to connect the incoming call.
“Hello?” I answer to Ms. Davenport’s voice.
“Hi Christina, it’s Trudy. Trudy Davenport. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just needed to give you a heads-up. We had a bad day today.” I can hear her audibly swallow. This can’t be good. “We went to call you, but Patti Belmont was here picking up forms for the PTA. Pippa latched on to her, and Mrs. Belmont said she would be able take Pippa home, instead of sending her on the bus.” She sounds extremely nervous.
“Okaay, well, what happened? Is she okay?” Details, lady.
“Yes, she’s fine. Just a bit distraught. She had a bad dream and wouldn’t stop crying. Unfortunately, once she finally stopped, she got a bit hostile and started throwing toys and screaming.” She pauses. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Daniels. I went to call you immediately, but like I said, Mrs. Belmont was here and she’s on the list, and Pippa really seemed to calm at her presence. So . . .”
Hostile? How does a four-year-old get hostile?
“Um, no, it’s okay, thank you for letting me know. I’ll look out for them.”
Just then, I hear the car pulling up in the driveway. “They’re here. Thank you for calling.” I let Ms. Davenport go and head for the door. Just as I’m opening it, I see Patti unlatching Pippa from the car seat. I stand in the doorway, waiting for my normal little spunky princess to hop out of the car, but instead, I witness a sight that scares the shit out of me. Once released, a screaming Pippa starts kicking and struggling to get out of Patti’s hold.
What the . . .
“Honey, please calm down, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get you inside.” I watch in horror as Patti struggles to keep Pippa in her arms, forced to kneel and let her free. Once fully grounded, Pippa takes off running toward the house. I stare open mouthed at the scene before me. I connect eyes with Patti and her panicked expression is no help. She looks really freaked out, which sets in my panic as Pippa makes her way up to me.
“Pippa, honey, what happened?” I try to ask but the irate look on her face shuts me up. She barrels past me into the house, throwing her little body around. “I want my mommy! I want my mommy!” she screams at no one while taking her backpack and hurling it. I go to reach for her but she’s not having it. She turns to me and begins screaming again. “I don’t want you! I want my mommy!”
At that harsh statement, I back up quickly, turning into Patti. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I thought I was helping by not putting her on the bus. She screamed the whole way home like that. I’m so worried she’s going to hurt herself.”
Um, what? How does a four-year-old hurt themselves?
I’m totally about to freak out here. I turn back to Pippa who’s pulling at her hair, still screaming and tears are pouring down her face. I’m frozen in place, shocked at this scene before me. I have no idea how to respond to her irate state right now.
I try again to get as close as I think she’ll let me and kneel. “Pippa, sweetie, can you calm down? It’s okay. I’m here for you, okay?” She begins to register my voice, thank God. “Kissy,” she chokes out. “I want my mommy. Please, I want my mommy. Please. I saw her. Please. I want my mommy.”
Every time she begs me, I feel like I die a little inside. I would do anything for this little girl if she asked, but this one. This one I can’t. And I feel helpless.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry but I can’t do that. You know your mommy is in Heaven.”
“No, she’s not! I saw her! I want my mommy!” She is back to screaming.
“Pippa, listen to me. You have to calm down.” I turn to Patti for help, but she looks just as distraught. I’m not sure anyone has ever seen this side of Pippa. “What do I do?” I ask her. She’s been around Pippa her whole life, she should know. For the love of God, why isn’t she helping me?
Then I see it.
The tear that falls down her cheek. “I don’t know, sweetie. I’m sorry, I just don’t know.” What is happening right now? This can’t be easy for her, I’m sure. I know Amy was like a daughter to her and to see Pippa like this has to hit hard for her, but I can’t do this alone.
Ian.
Where’s my phone? I look around for it. I need to call Ian. I look around until I spot it. I hear the house phone going off. It’s probably the school, wanting to check if Pippa made it home. Once, twice, three times it rings, before it happens.
The answering machine goes off.
And Amy’s voice rings through the room.
And my heart breaks.
“MOMMY!” Pippa breaks from my hold, because I’m too stunned at the turn of events to hold tight enough. As I listen to Amy’s recorded voice on the machine, a four-year-old child runs into the kitchen, expecting to see her mother.
I hear Patti gasp as she covers her strangled cry.
I turn to her quickly. “Call Ian. Now!” Then I race into the room. I find Pippa standing at the back of the kitchen trying to open up the garage door.
“Honey?”
“I heard her! She’s here. I heard her!”
“Baby girl, that was the answering machine. That wasn’t your mommy.” I bend down to her level and attempt to grab her but she swings and hits me. She catches me off guard with her slap, but I take it because it’s the only way I’m going to be able to get close enough to restrain her.
“Let me go! I don’t want you! I want my mommy!” she screams, and struggles in my arms as I bear hug her to me.
It is humanly impossible to fight the tears that are pouring down my cheeks. I’m holding a child who doesn’t understand. How will she learn to heal if she doesn’t understand what she’s healing from? She fights and she fights. Her little hands hit over and over for me to release her. I tell her repeatedly that it’s going to be okay and that I love her. Finally, I feel her fight die when her painful screams turn into wretched cries. I rock her in my arms while she cries and hiccups how she wants her mommy. And I cry with her. Because I want her mommy, too.
I don’t know how long we stay on the floor, but it’s long enough for Ian to come barreling through the door, his large frame hovering over us.
“What happened?” He looks wild with fright. I’m not sure what Patti told him. I shake my head at him because I’m not sure I have words to explain what I just experienced. Pippa has calmed and possibly fallen asleep in my arms.
Ian looks at my face and notices the red marks from Pippa’s lashes. “Jesus.” He brushes my hair off my face. There’s no hiding the tearstains or the welts. “Chris, what happened? Is she okay? Are you okay?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. The tears squeeze from my lids but are swept away by Ian’s warm thumb. “She had another nightmare at school,” I whisper quietly. “Patti was there so she brought her home. She came home and was hysterical. Wanted Amy. Kept asking for her. Then . . . then . . .” I can barely finish, remembering the look in Pippa’s eyes. And most likely the horror in mine. “Then the answering machine went off and she heard it. She thought her mommy was here. And she took off toward the sound.”
Ian looks exactly how I feel. Shattered. He bends his head toward the ground for a moment to gather himself. After a few loud breaths, he stands. “Come here.” He helps me up. My legs are wobbly from sitting on them for so long. He takes Pippa from my arms, holding me in place.
“Go put her down. I need to talk with Patti.”
“Are you sure? Are you okay?” The look of distress is clearly across both our faces.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I lie. Physically I am fine. Mentally I might be paying off this therapy bill for t
he rest of eternity. He leads me into the living room where Patti is on the couch. She pops up as soon as we enter the room.
“How is she?”
“She’s sleeping. Ian’s going to put her in her bed.”
“I’m so sorry, Chrissy, I didn’t know what to do. I just . . . I’ve been having a hard time as well with their passing. And I’ve been so close to Pippa since she was born.” She stops to take a deep breath. “I’ve never seen her like that. I just froze.”
“Oh, Patti, it’s not your fault. I was just as scared as you were. I don’t think anyone would know what to do in a situation like that.” Because if anyone has to train for those situations, that’s clearly messed up.
“I know. I’m just sorry in general. Henry and I, we loved Amy and John like family. And we love Pippa.”
“I know you do.” I try to console her as best I can. I step forward and give her a hug with any energy I have left.
“Well, I should get out of your hair. You two need some time alone.”
I wish her well and she’s gone. Just as I’m walking down the hallway, Ian is closing Pippa’s door.
“Is she asleep?” I ask, stopping in front of his tall frame.
“Yeah, she never even woke up. I changed her into her pajamas.”
“What about her bath? It’s bath night. She needs her bath.” I’m getting frantic again. I need to follow the schedule. I can’t fail my sister. And if I don’t follow the schedule . . .
I’m starting to hyperventilate. Panic. Clearly.
“Hey . . .” He grabs me and picks me up.
“Ian, I need to follow her schedule and if I don’t follow her schedule . . .” Strangled breaths, in and out. “I’m going to let my sister down.”
Ian holds me to his chest as we make our way to the bedroom we’ve been sharing for the past three weeks. He lays me on the bed and joins me. He pulls our bodies close, knowing I need his warmth right now and most importantly, I need his strength.
I have never witnessed something like that before in my life and it scares me. Watching a child so young, so out of control of her emotions. She looked so terrified.
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 20