“Keep going,” I tell Brianna. I am all smiles as she tries to cover the distance between us in her Rollator. She pauses to catch her breath, sweat soaks the top of her gown and I raise both thumbs. I will cover the distance in a few strides but she is doing great. “You are almost here. You can do it, Bri. Come to Daddy.”
Or, Uncle. Or, whatever the fuck I am.
My hands jam together in an applause as Brianna bridges the gap. Sweat trickles down her temples, she breathes heavily. I tuck the hair sticking to her forehead behind her ear and ring the bell on the drawer.
“Great job.” Leaning on the device for support, she smiles. My gaze darts to the door of her room, the starting point, it creaks open and the new caregiver steps in. We ignore her. “Do you want to go again?”
“No.”
Laughter trickles out of my lips. I smoothen her hair and she cocks her head to the side to avoid contact with me. I’m always fussing. The more progress she makes, the more careful I become. Vincent hasn’t made any contact since that day but a part of me is forever on edge. He gave up too easily on his niece.
“To the bathroom then,” I volunteer.
“Bathroom,” Brianna squeals. Cara, the new caregiver guides her to the bathroom, I follow behind them, ignoring the looks Cara passes me. She is my daughter. Or not. It will be hard to get over that fact. Even if I am only her uncle, I have every right to be worried. “Daddy.” I look at them. Cara is standing akimbo. Brianna is still in her gown. Her eyes wander to the door, then returns to my face. “Are you staying?”
Her unspoken question almost has me chuckling. I shake my head. “No. I’ll wait outside.”
I avoid Cara’s gaze as I exit the bathroom. I fluff the pillows and lay her bed without wrinkles to keep busy. Her birthday is today, we are having a small dinner and I am more nervous than the celebrant.
Brianna doesn’t know it yet. It’s a little surprise. Her therapists think it’s a good idea to celebrate it. Her birthday and her progress. Once I receive the call from Lydia to let me know the dinner is ready, we will go down. Joshua should be on his way. I also invited Mother. Father can’t make it, he is away on a trip.
They are well aware Brendan is dead, we moved past that. But how do they reconcile the fact I killed their son for no good reason? It’s eating me up. Even if everyone forgives me, I cannot forgive myself. I cannot even be mad at Brendan anymore because she was his daughter. I had no right to do what I did.
Squeezing the last pillow, I toss it on the bed and leave her room for the twins. I need to talk to them. My relationship with them has only gone from bad to worse. Bren won’t even talk to me and Wyn’s loyalty lies first with her sister. I stop in front of their door and knock. The noises from behind the door cease.
“Who’s there?” Wyn asks. She never asks. If I answer truthfully, she won’t open the door.
That’s how bad it is between us now. I cough into my hand and murmur, “Joshua.”
“Uncle Josh?”
Another cough. I glare at the door. “Yes.”
The knob twists carefully, she pries the door open and pokes her head out. Her eyes lift to my face and she frowns. She peeks behind me for her uncle and her frown deepens when she straightens up.
“Daddy. Uncle Josh is not here.”
Her words chip off the wall around my heart. Annoyance leaks to her voice and my head jerks in a nod.
“Yeah,” I say. I push one leg forward, she pushes the door, leaving it open by a crack. I am not welcomed in my own house. “Can I come in?” Wyn looks behind her but I don’t give her a chance to refuse. Placing my hands on each side of the wall, I mutter, “Today is Bri’s birthday. You know, right? There is cake.”
Her lips pucker. She steps into the corridor to join me. Smartass. “Is Mummy coming?”
The only place she will be coming to is the mediator’s office when I finally muster the courage to contact her. She drums her foot into the floor, lips pressed in a line. I don’t like lying to them. I don’t want to lie to her. This madness started with a lie. Nicole lied and that wicked lie set me on this dark path of misery.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
Joshua asked me to send El an invitation. If Brianna’s birthday dinner is for only family, she deserves to be there. Does she? I scratch the back of my neck as I await judgment from Wyn. She is still thinking.
“Daddy?” Her hand slips into mine, she pulls me inside the room and we sit on the bed. She doesn’t crawl to my laps as she used to. I smoothen the creases on my shirt. “It’s not Mummy’s fault.”
My head jerks up. “It’s not your fault.” Levelling her a sombre look, I murmur, “It was never your fault.”
She whimpers. “But you will not let us talk to her,” she cries. “I want to see my mummy.”
I lift her to my laps and her arms go around my neck. Tears roll down her cheeks, I try to wipe them but she swats my hand from her face. Her quiet sobs break the pieces of my heart all over again, I open my mouth to comfort her but the words fail me. What they want is their mother. Not my empty promise.
“Daddy.” Wyn wiggles out of my grasp to stand between my legs. She nibbles on her lower lip and sniffs. “We lied.” I smile sadly at her. She doesn’t have to continue excusing her mother’s behaviour. Grabbing my wrists, she bounces on her toes. “Listen.” I nod. “We lied. Please forgive Mummy. It’s not her fault.”
“Princess,” I start but she shakes her head.
Anger zips through me. I let out a deep breath. It was easier yesterday. It is easier on school days.
“We told Mummy we wanted to pee.” She sniffs again. “Mummy told us to come back immediately but we didn’t. It’s my fault, Daddy.” It’s not her fault. El should have kept watch. Her nails dig into my wrists, she implores me with her eyes to listen so I keep mute and allow her finish. “If I didn’t tell Bren to follow me to the lake, she would not have fallen inside and you will not be punishing our mummy. I’m sorry.”
A painful silence ensues. This is the first time I’m hearing this. Still, if El wasn’t talking to T, she would have noticed they were missing. Her lower lip trembles, her amber orbs shine with tears and my thumb traces the under of her eye that is wet with tears. I rest my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze.
“It’s not your fault, Princess,” I whisper. When her eyes is on me, I add, “Daddy is not mad at you.”
“But you are mad at Mummy,” she finishes.
I nod. “Yes.” Stroking a side of her face, I say, “She was supposed to protect both of you but she didn’t.” Maybe the punishment is too harsh but I don’t want the pain of losing a kid again. “That’s why I’m mad.”
Wyn sighs. I’m not sure she understands but her arms wrap around my waist and her face presses to my chest. I rub circles on the small of her back until her breathing evens out. “Don’t be mad at her, Daddy.”
I am. I can’t stop being mad at her. I plant a kiss on Wyn’s hair and stare into space. At least she has T.
A door opens, footsteps echo in the quiet. The person stops beside us but we don’t break away from our hug. From my peripheral view, I catch Bren gawking at me. Her hair is wet from her bath and she is still in her towel. She scowls when she sees her sister in my embrace but my arms only tighten around Wyn.
Confusion flickers across her face, her lips twitch as she ponders her next move. To get to her sister, she has to touch me. I haven’t gotten as much as a handshake from her since the day we left the hospital. I am the bad guy in her story. As long as El is not here, there’s nothing I can say or do to change her mind.
I used to think Wyn was better at keeping grudges but I was sorely mistaken. “Hey, Princess.”
Bren doesn’t acknowledge me, instead, she moves a step away from my reach and clutches her towel. My lips curl in a half-smile. She hasn’t smiled at me in days. El’s carelessness is the reason she fell into that lake yet I am the one being punished. Her eyes flit to my face, she scowls and my smile disappears.
“Wyn.” Her twin untangles herself from me and my heart clenches at the loss of body contact. Wyn rubs her eyes and the lines on her sisters forehead multiplies. “Is Mummy coming?” The question is directed to Wyn but her gaze lingers on me for a nanosecond. She folds her arms on her chest. “Is she coming?”
“Daddy?” Wyn murmurs. Their gazes redirect to me. I swallow tight. “Is Mummy coming?”
I have been set up. Wyn laces our fingers and smiles. I open my mouth without saying a word.
“She’s not coming,” Bren mutters.
Her eyes hold mine to confirm her statement. Hurt, anger, disappointment flashes across her face. She takes my silence as answer, spins on her heels to leave but turns back to tug her sister away from me.
They are halfway across the room when I regain control of my tongue. “Bren.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she snaps.
Wyn grimaces. Her lips purse as her eyes alternate between us. She moves behind her sister. I erupt in soundless laughter. She has picked her side. Slowly, I rise to my feet and they edge back. Bren’s hands are curled into fists. She’s convinced I am the enemy but I am not. They are too young to understand.
Crouching in front of her, I attempt to take her hands but they are glued to her sides. She squares her shoulders. “Brenwyn,” I croak out. Why is it so easy for everyone to punish me? “Princess. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes close, when they open again, tears fill her gaze. “I hate you,” Bren yells and shoves my chest. I fall to my knees. Tears roll down her cheeks but she doesn’t give me a chance to wipe them or comfort her. I don’t like seeing my princess in tears. “You are a bad Daddy. I want my mummy. I don’t want you.”
The first punch lands on my face, then my shoulder. She hits me everywhere. Doing physical damage to cement the emotional wreck her words did. My arm wrap around her. “Princess,” I say in a weak voice.
Still struggling to push me off her, she mutters, “I’m not your princess.”