She stood up defiantly, her arms dangling at her sides, and I was toast.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I blurted, staring at her as I tried to figure out what the fuck I was feeling. She was Cecilia. I knew I loved her. I’d always known I loved her. So why the fuck did I feel like my chest was about to cave in? Why the hell was it so hard to breathe? It was like an earthquake was rumbling beneath us and I was struggling to plant my feet.
“You must not get out much,” she replied, crouching down to rifle through the bag I’d brought. She barely had any room to move because I seemed to be incapable of giving her space, but she got dressed quickly anyway. “Come on,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “We can’t stay in here all night.”
I nodded dumbly and led her out of the bathroom.
Farrah was waiting in the hallway. “Sorry,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She’s about fed up with me, she needs Mama.”
Cecilia froze for just a second before moving toward her mom. “That’s okay, I’m all done anyway.”
“Did you get a good shower?” Farrah asked, her eyes meeting mine as she handed the baby over.
I felt the back of my neck and my ears heat in embarrassment, something that hadn’t happened since I was a teenager.
“I feel so much better,” Cecilia replied, missing the exchange. “Now I just need to get her changed and fed, and I can crash.”
“We’re just two rooms down,” Farrah said, reaching out to cradle CeeCee’s head in her palm as she kissed the opposite side. “We’ll probably be up visiting for a while, but let us know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Farrah looked at me. “You in for the night, too?”
“Nah,” I shook my head, still a little dazed. “I’ll be out in a while.”
I followed Cecilia into our room and sat on the edge of the bed while she got Olive ready for bed. The baby was seriously pissed, and the second Cecilia put her down she let loose with an ear-piercing wail.
“I’m hurrying,” Cecilia called as she pulled supplies out of the diaper bag. “Just give me one second.”
“I don’t think she cares that you’re hurrying,” I joked over the noise. I was so fucking raw, I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it.
“I think she’s tired of my shit,” Cecilia said with a humorless chuckle. “But I’m all she’s got.”
I watched her change the baby and wrap her back up, her movements gentle and confident. By the time Cecilia got situated and Olive was nursing quietly, I finally opened my mouth again.
“Why do you say stuff like that?” I asked, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. I was starting to feel as tired as Cecilia looked.
“Like what?” she replied in confusion.
“Why do you put yourself down? She’s lucky to have you.”
“Lucky would’ve been Liv,” Cecilia said flatly. “Lucky would’ve been sleeping in that nursery that her mom spent months working on, and getting on some kind of schedule, and being rocked to sleep in a rocking chair. Lucky would’ve been two parents that loved her and wanted her so much that they went to pretty great lengths to get her. She’s not lucky.”
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cecilia said, dryly. “What’s that?”
“That her parents were white supremacists and her dad was the head of an organization that pretty much disappears entire families when they try to escape their fucked up lives,” I said, not bothering to pull any punches. “That her older brother is a fucking murderer that killed her parents and would’ve killed her. She’s goddamn lucky that you’re the one who saved her, that she has all these people—good people—that will have her back. What kind of life would she have had if the Warrens had lived?”
“I wasn’t planning on being a parent,” Cecilia murmured. “This was never in the cards.”
“That would’ve been a fucking shame,” I said baldly.
“I wasn’t cut out for this.”
“Bullshit,” I practically spit. “If ever there was a woman who should be a mother, it’s you.”
“How do you figure?”
“Cecilia, you are one of the most loyal and protective people I’ve ever known.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Don’t pull that shit with me,” I said, sitting up straight. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to right now.”
“How could I?” she mumbled. “You’re literally the only person on the planet who would ever say that.”
“That’s because I know you better than anyone else on the planet does.”
“You hadn’t even seen me in years.”
“People don’t change that much,” I said with a sigh. I should’ve added stubborn to her list of traits. “Who they are, the root of them, doesn’t change. You haven’t changed.”
“Yes, I have,” she said, staring into my eyes.