Chapter Eleven
796 Words
“I beat him.”
“You mentioned.”
“Twice.”
“Seven times.”
“Eight.”
I looked up from the book I was pretending to read.
“Interesting how that number keeps growing.”
Sofia grinned.
Because she’d inherited honesty from absolutely nobody.
“Christopher said I cheated.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer came far too quickly.
I raised an eyebrow.
Sofia shrugged.
Neither of us believed her.
“He just doesn’t like losing.”
“Nobody likes losing.”
“I do.”
“That’s because you usually win.”
Sofia considered that.
Then nodded.
“Good point.”
I laughed.
For the hundredth time that day, Christopher’s name appeared in the conversation.
It had been happening for two years.
Today felt different somehow.
More.
As though Sofia had spent the entire day collecting memories she couldn’t wait to tell me about.
“He said next time he’s bringing his own golf clubs.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time.”
“Yes there is.”
The certainty in her voice made me suspicious.
“What do you know that I don’t?”
Sofia smiled.
Never a good sign.
“Nothing.”
A lie.
A terrible lie.
An eight-year-old lie.
The worst kind.
I narrowed my eyes.
She smiled wider.
Definitely hiding something.
Unfortunately bedtime arrived before I could investigate.
⸻
Half an hour later, Sofia was asleep.
Eventually.
Children should come with an off switch.
I carried my mug of tea into the kitchen.
The house was quiet.
Dishwasher humming.
Clock ticking.
The familiar sounds of home.
For a while I simply stood there.
Staring out into the garden.
Thinking about nothing.
Thinking about everything.
The strange thing wasn’t that Sofia had enjoyed herself.
That part made sense.
The strange thing was how normal the day had felt.
Not normal like before.
Nothing would ever be that.
Just…
Easy.
I hated how much that word bothered me.
Because for years everything had been hard.
Grief.
Work.
Parenting.
Existing.
Hard.
Today hadn’t been.
Today had simply happened.
And somehow Christopher had been part of that.
I took a sip of tea.
Immediately regretted it.
Too hot.
Typical.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A message.
Alice.
Of course.
How was Father’s Day?
I stared at it.
Then typed:
Sofia had a great time.
The reply arrived instantly.
That’s not what I asked.
I rolled my eyes.
You need hobbies.
Answer the question.
Annoying woman.
It was nice.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
Then:
Interesting.
I hated that word.
Nothing is interesting.
Sure.
I threw my phone onto the counter.
The conversation was over.
As far as I was concerned.
⸻
The problem was that Alice wasn’t entirely wrong.
Something had changed.
Not dramatically.
Not overnight.
Not in some ridiculous romantic-comedy way.
Just enough that I’d started noticing things.
Dangerous things.
Christopher had always been good-looking.
That wasn’t new information.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
Tall.
The sort of man people noticed when he entered a room.
The problem wasn’t that.
The problem was that for the first time in a very long time, my brain had decided it was relevant.
Absolutely not.
I took another sip of tea.
Some thoughts were better left exactly where they were.
Buried.
Ignored.
Forgotten.
⸻
I thought about the restaurant.
The mini golf.
The way Sofia had grabbed both our hands without a second thought.
The memory made something twist unexpectedly inside my chest.
Not because of Christopher.
Because of Sofia.
Because she looked happy.
Really happy.
And I couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked that carefree.
That should have been the only thing that mattered.
Maybe it was.
Maybe.
⸻
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This time from Christopher.
I stared at it suspiciously.
Then opened it.
Sofia left with my winner’s certificate.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The man had lost every competition all day.
Typical.
Correction. Sofia won your certificate.
A reply appeared almost immediately.
I suspect she planned the whole thing.
Probably.
A pause.
Then:
She had a good day.
I looked at the message for a long moment.
Simple.
Honest.
No jokes.
No teasing.
No hidden meaning.
Just a fact.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
She did. Thank you.
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
Anytime.
I stared at the screen.
Then quickly locked my phone.
As though it had personally offended me.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
Outside, the garden lights flickered on.
Inside, the kitchen remained quiet.
And despite all my best efforts, I found myself smiling.
Just a little.
Only for a second.
Then I shook my head.
Finished my tea.
And told myself I wasn’t thinking about Christopher.
The lie was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.
- Writer
