The Way We Feel

Chapter 44

Mads had handed Lila her sippy cup by the time I'd reached them, and she was quickly draining the ice cold water as Mads brushed wisps of her brown curls—torn from her ponytail by all the running around and tamped down to her forehead by moisture—away from her eyes. They were green in the sunlight. Like mine. Her hair was curly like mine, but as dark as Madelyn's. She looked just like Mads. Her smile. The little wrinkle of her nose when she laughed. Even the way she looked when she was upset.

She was just like her mother.

But she was just like me, too.

The suction loosened, making a noise as Lila stopped drinking, and she breathed deeply from her run and from drinking so much at once.

"You tired?" Mads asked, sounding like she already knew the answer.

"No," Lila said quickly, then took off again.

At nearly two and a half years old, it was still her favorite word.

Mads looked at me, and I looked at her. And I didn't have time to really look at her, nose and cheeks a little pink from yesterday, when we'd spent the day in her mother's backyard, taking dips in the pool between meals and Lila's nap. At her hair, long and flowing and swept to one side, held away from her face by sunglasses perched on the crown of her head. I didn't have time to take in what her smile might mean either, because that familiar little voice sounded from behind me.

"Doggy!"

I whipped around to find Lila staring after a couple and their dog.

Mainly the dog. What looked to be some kind of Labrador mix. And before I could start towards her, Lila started towards the dog, hands already outstretched.

"Lila," I called, hurrying toward her to stop her. Or at least monitor her if the people were okay with her petting their dog. How she could get herself into these kinds of situations in a matter of seconds was still beyond me.

"Sorry," I said to the couple as I reached her and pulled her back, much to Lila's chagrin. She was already gearing up for an argument as the couple laughed.

"No, that's okay. She can pet him if she wants," the woman said, her smile sort of crazed, her eyes sort of wide and lingering on me as mine went down to Lila.

The knot in my stomach curled tighter once more.

I crouched down beside my daughter as I thanked the woman, and whether the man with her had recognized me as well, I didn't take the time to notice.

"Say, 'Can I pet your dog, please?'" I coached her, and what came out was an adorable, "Ca-yie pet y'dog, peas?"

It charmed the pants off the woman, who giggled and nodded whilst saying, "Of course you can." She crouched down beside the dog, who was studiously sniffing Lila's hands. "His name's Hercules."

"Hercules," I repeated for Lila's sake.

"Hacuyles," she said, repeating me repeating the woman.

The dog licked her fingers like he knew she was referring to him.

It was while the two of them were getting to know each other—Lila petting him, and Hercules licking her every so often between pants—that his owner said, "She's precious."

"Thank you," I said, more nervous still because of the recognition in her eyes when she looked at me. The trembling anticipation that waited there for a moment to strike.

The guy she was with—boyfriend, husband, brother, I couldn't very well tell—was standing a few feet away from us, looking at his phone. I was wary of him and the camera, too.