Claire walked out in her robe, toweling her hair and humming.
“Done in there?” I asked.
I put the phone back.
“All yours,” my fiancée replied, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. She smelled of the vanilla shampoo Grace had picked out for her at the drugstore last month.
“You gonna say goodnight to the girls?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”
I watched her walk down the hall.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I imagined her tucking Lily in with the stuffed rabbit Rachel had picked out at a farmers’ market the summer before she died. I imagined her smoothing Grace’s hair and whispering something that made my daughter giggle into her pillow.
Months of that. Of a performance so clean I’d handed her a diamond, a house key, and my daughters’ bedtime routine.
I stayed up long after Claire fell asleep beside me.
I imagined her smoothing Grace’s hair.
