Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Nadia sat down on the top step and rested her head against the newel post. She listened to their laughter. It had been months since she’d heard them laugh, and she found herself smiling. They needed her to be a better mother, or none of them would endure the days and months ahead.
She took the stairs slowly, so as to not interrupt whatever Gemma and Lynnea were doing with her mom. Nadia paused in the doorway to the kitchen and set her hand on the wall to steady herself. They were making a birthday cake, even though their dad wouldn’t be there to eat it. With a deep inhale and a fake smile, she rounded the corner and greeted her girls.
“Mommy!” Lynnea squealed and got down from the chair, covered in flour. Nadia scooped her up, not caring about her child’s dirty hands. “We’re making Daddy’s birthday cake.”
“I see that.” She set Lynnea down and went over to Gemma, rubbing her hand down her hair. “Good morning, Gemma.”
“Morning.” Gemma knelt on the chair but didn’t look too engaged in the cake making. Nadia kissed the top of her hair and inhaled the clean coconut scent.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie.”
Lorraine Bolton had all but moved in with Nadia and the girls, and when she wasn’t here, Sienna was. Both had put their lives on hold to be there for Nadia. She was grateful, and part of her wanted them to leave her alone, but if they did that, she had no idea where she would be.
The last thing she wanted to do was make Rafe a cake. She had no idea how the day would go, but it seemed pointless to celebrate. What were they going to do, sit around and sing “Happy Birthday” to him as if he sat at the head of the table?
Still, she went to the pantry and took her apron off the hook and slipped the strap over her head. As she walked back to the makeshift baking station, she tied the back. She would try and be present for the girls on this day because it was important to them.
“What can I do to help?” It took great effort to ask when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and watch their wedding video on repeat. She was incredibly thankful she’d insisted on having a videographer at their wedding. When she wanted to hear him say “I love you,” all she had to do was turn it on.
“The batter is almost done,” Lorraine said. “How about you start on the frosting? I put a couple of bags of powdered sugar in the pantry, and the softened butter is on the table. I told the girls they could pick the colors.”
Nadia’s attempt at a smile fell short. Her mother saw and offered her a kind one in return. She was thankful her mom didn’t coat her with words of sympathy like I know what you’re going through or It’s going to get easier. Neither was true. Lorraine had lost her parents, but that’s expected when people age. And nothing was going to get easier. Nadia was alone and raising two small children without the help of her partner. She’d rather be divorced than have to deal with life this way.
Over the years, Nadia and the girls had made a million cakes. Lorraine had taught her how to make them from scratch. “They always taste better,” she would tell Nadia and Sienna. Frosting, too, would always be homemade, and in vibrant colors and flavors. None of the store-bought stuff. Besides, those containers you bought in the store were never enough to fully cover a cake or cupcakes and were just a waste of money.
Gemma came over to help her mom. She poured milk after Nadia measured, and she slowly moved the mixer around while the ingredients bound together.
“What colors are we doing for Daddy’s cake?” The words barely came out without her choking on them.
“Blue and red,” Gemma said.
Nadia nodded. “He also liked green.”
Rafe was a die-hard Boston sports fan, and he always wore whatever team gear he had during the season.
“How about we do a little bit of color for each team Daddy loved?” Nadia asked Gemma. “This way we get them all in there.”
Gemma nodded and wiped at her eyes. She tried to quiet her sob with a cough, but to no avail. Nadia pulled her oldest into her side and held her.
“It’s okay to cry,” she told her. “We all miss him.”
“I just want him back,” she said into her mother’s side. “He was going to take me to the daddy-daughter dance.”
Nadia had forgotten about the dance. It had come and gone, and she’d paid it no mind. Her father or Reuben would’ve taken Gemma, or even Otto or Lars. She could’ve easily called Kiran to take her. There were plenty of men in Gemma’s life who would’ve stepped up and filled Rafe’s space—not his shoes, because no one would ever be able to do that—but they’d be there if Gemma or Lynnea needed a male figure for anything.