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“Stop crying.” Dave cringed at his words; they sounded harsh. He gave Anna a tissue from his pocket.
“I am sorry,” she insisted.
He sighed. “This isn’t—“
“I don’t want you to hate Rita!”
He chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s a little late for that.” It wasn’t Anna’s fault, but his feelings were running away with him. Again. He was scared of himself.
“She loved you. So much.”
“I know. But she used me. And that hurts.”
“Rose—“
“Don’t. You. Dare. You have no idea what we have, what we share. So stop it. If you can’t, then stay away from us.”
-:-
Rose was asleep, the soft lighting of the room creating new worlds on her back. He sucked in the air. A year ago he had deemed himself the happiest man alive. Then his life had been shattered, and she had broken his free fall.
He didn’t dare think he was happy.
His life before her had been a diversion from loneliness, for both him and Rita.
He didn’t dare think he was truly happy now.
He might lose Rose too.
“Hey,” she said, blinking.
He smiled and bent to kiss her. “You sleep well?”
She purred. “You look… pensive.”
“I’m just grateful. For you.”
-:-
“A Dad might get jealous,” Dave whispered when he took her into his arms in their bedroom that night.
“Why’s that?”
“They barely spared me hug or a kiss more than necessary. Didn’t you notice?”
Indeed, the children had heaped Rose with their affection in the shape of tea and cuddles. He couldn’t blame them; he was just as happy to finally have her with them for good.
Rose blushed, brushing a lock of her hair back. He kissed her hard.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever be sorry. They love you.”
She laughed. “I’ll never be their Mum.”
“No. You’ve earned every bit of their love.”
-:-
Lucy drew her legs closer to her body. She still found it difficult to see Rose kiss and hug Dad. She was too curvy and too blonde and too vibrant. Mum had been so… pixie-like, and, she had to admit, just as fickle. Sometimes, she had to admit, Mum had been horrible to Dad, particularly when she’d been selfish.
Rose was different. She was selfish in a good way, if such a thing existed. But that was probably rooted in her childhood and her extraordinary life. Rose had learned to stand up for herself, but she’d also learned to support others.
And she truly loved Dad.
-:-
Lucy scooted closer beneath the covers and wrapped her arm around Lily. Lily was looking at the cello. Its case was open, and it was bathed in the ambient light.
A gift of one of the Tyler arts funds, it had arrived earlier that day. Along with it had come a letter; they’d all read it several times, and called Jackie to thank her. Rose’s Mum had brushed it off, but she’d clearly been delighted. “Your music is all you’ve got, love.”
“I’ve got you too,” Lily whispered, knowing exactly what she thought. “I’m so blessed.”
Lucy kissed her shoulder. “So am I.”