We watchedDespicable Me after dinner, which I found out was Elodie’s favorite movie.
I couldn’t imagine how many times she had watched this movie to remember some of the lines already, and it was pretty entertaining to watch her mouth the words along.
“Daddy brought me Mr. Fluffy,” she said, pointing to the stuffed unicorn Agnes was holding in her arms. I smiled.
“Is Mr. Fluffy your favorite toy?”
She nodded fiercely, as if she was afraid Mr. Fluffy might hear her and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “And Mr. Piggles, and Mr. Tail, and Dr. Pink.”
“Do all of your toys have titles?” I asked in amusement.
Her frown told me she didn’t understand what I was asking. I laughed and pulled her to me. She rested her head on my chest, her eyes focused back on the movie.
After a few minutes, she said, “Millie?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I love you.”
Fuck. What did I say to that? I didn’t know. This was new territory for me. And did Elodie really love me, or was it because she was so little and formed attachments to anyone hanging out with her?
My arms tightened around her little body.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
I hoped I did that right.
Elodie fell asleep on me not long after that, and before the movie was finished. I stayed where I was, even when the credits rolled, my fingers moving through the soft strands of her hair.
I shouldn’t feel like this about a little girl, but especially not this little girl.
I didn’t regret my decision from three years ago.
Or, at least, I didn’t think I did, but there was something about spending the day with her that made me wonder…
There was no way to find out what had happened.
Not only did I sign away the rights, but I also asked to remain anonymous. I didn’t want to know what happened, and I didn’t want anyone to find me later on.
I wasn’t like Evelyn.
I didn’t love children. I didn’t dedicate my entire education to being trained to work with them. I remembered my first year moving back to Boston. I had worked as an instructor for a children’s ballet class for kids aged seven to eight.
I hated it.
I hated everything about it, from the shit pay to the loud kids to the obnoxious parents. Taking the temporary job in New York had been my lifesaver, even if it had been temporary.
Sometimes I wished I could start over.
I wished I could leave ballet behind and do something else. Be someone else. But this was all I knew.
I didn’t know how to be anything else, and opening this business was my last-ditch effort to find my passion again.
I wasn’t like my sister, or fuck, even my brother, and he been considered the family fuck-up for most of his twenties. Evelyn knew she wanted to work with children for as long as she lived. She always did have a soft spot for them, and I knew she wanted to be a mom since she was a little girl.
As for Ethan, even if he had been lost for most of his life, he seemed to have his life together now. He was happy.
And I… wasn’t.