“That mug’s hers whenever she wants it,” he added, softer.
“She’ll love the pool.”
I remember thinking, goodness, we’re lucky. Then I remember thinking, are we, though?
Mia squirmed in my arms as we approached Harold’s house. She wore a little yellow dress with grass stains I hadn’t managed to scrub away.
“Mommy, can I swim?”
“Not tonight, baby. Just visiting.”
“I want Daddy.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“Mommy, can I swim?”
Harold’s house was glowing. String lights stretched across the patio, women wore silk dresses, men wore linen suits, and a bar had been arranged beside the deep end. I felt like a smudge in the corner of a magazine spread.
Then I spotted Harold across the pool, drink in hand, watching us enter through the gate.
He smiled. But it wasn’t quite the easy smile I had grown accustomed to. It was warmer and heavier, with something else I couldn’t yet put into words.
