“They are gross,” I agree, curling my fingers around her tiny hand as I toe off my boots. “We take shoes off at my house, too.”
“Do you have a little girl at your house?” Crissy asks as she leads me across the room.
“No. I have roommates. But they’re like my family. We’ve been best friends since we were kids.”
“I had a best friend in California,” Crissy says, stopping in front of the fridge and pointing to a truly excellent painting of a punk rock flamingo. “I don’t have one here yet because I don’t start kindergarten until after summertime, but I will. I’m good at making friends.”
“I bet,” I say. “I hope I can be your friend, too.”
She casts a sly glance my way out of the corners of her eyes. “Maybe. If you stop chewing on Mama’s neck.”
Hannah snort-laughs as she slips in to pop the breakfast leftovers in the fridge, and my cheeks go hot. “I was actually kissing her neck, not chewing on it, but…”
“Looked like chewing,” Crissy says with a bob of her tiny shoulder. “And kisses are for cheeks or lips. Or foreheads if you’re really sleepy.”
I nod. “You make some excellent points.”
“I know,” she says seriously before shifting her focus to the kitchen behind me. “Mama, can I get two toys at the fair? I can bring my money Gram sent me for Christmas. I have forty whole dollars and all the quarters I found under the machines in the laundry room.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Natalie drawing a glass of water from the sink set into the island. She nods. “Sure. Grab your wallet and put it in my purse. Then get dressed and brush your teeth. We’ll head out in thirty minutes.”
Crissy bounces on her feet. “Yay! I’m going to wear my party dress like you, Mommy.”
“No, you’re not,” Natalie says, laughing as Crissy dashes past her. “You’re going to wear a sweater and your warm leggings. And I’m going to change, too. It’s too cold out for party dresses.” She sighs as Crissy slams her bedroom door in response and lifts a hand to Hannah, who’s pulling on her coat by the door. “Thank you, Hannah. We’ll see you Monday morning.”
“See you then,” Hannah says. “And let me know if you want me to grab any groceries on my way over. I’ll be staying at my boyfriend’s place, so I’ll be close enough to walk and can borrow his cart.”
“Thank you, that would be awesome,” Natalie says, wiggling her fingers. “Have a great rest of your weekend.”
“You, too.” Hannah shoots a smile my way as she wraps her scarf around her neck and grabs her backpack from the floor. “Nice to meet you, Cam.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I say, waiting until she closes the door behind her to turn to Natalie and arch a “well, that could have gone better” brow.
She huffs out a laugh, but her smile trembles at the edges as she says in a soft voice, “Sorry. I had no idea she remembered that man in San Francisco.” She rubs at her forehead. “Maybe I should make a counseling appointment for us or something.”
“Maybe,” I agree, slipping an arm around her waist. “Or maybe just knowing it’s okay to talk about it with you will make the memory less scary. What happened?”
She shakes her head, her gaze fixed on my chest as she says, “A man broke in and tried to take me out of our apartment. I grabbed my cast iron skillet as he was dragging me through the kitchen and hit him with it.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, hugging her closer.
“Crissy came toddling in just as the blood started pouring out of his nose. I don’t know how she got out of her crib. She must have been so scared she climbed over the railing or something. She wasn’t quite two, so I hadn’t transitioned her to the toddler bed yet.” She sighs. “The good news is that seeing a baby seemed to freak the guy out and he left. The bad news…” She leans in, resting her forehead on my arm. “The bad news is that my daughter apparently remembers the whole thing and is traumatized and thinks vampires are real.”
I run my hand over her head, smoothing her hair. “She’ll be all right. She has an amazing mom who loves her and will help her be okay. No matter what. And what about the guy? Did the police catch him? Maybe letting her know he got in trouble for what he did would make her feel safer?”
“Yeah, maybe,” she says, a weariness in her voice that I can sense is from more than a little lost sleep last night. She steps out of my arms with a tight smile. “I should go change. Feel free to help yourself to juice from the fridge or make coffee or tea or whatever. We should be ready to go in thirty minutes, but if Crissy decides to fight me on making clothing choices that are appropriate for the weather, it might take longer. Four-year-olds are mercurial.”