I’m glad to have her close. I’m glad she didn’t go upstairs to her room. It’s hard to let Paige out of my sight after everything that’s happened. It was difficult when I first came back to her, but now? After that gift at the party?

God.

Joe meant it as a threat. I don’t believe for an instant that it was an overture. Or a peace offering. I don’t think he’s been capable of that kind of gesture for years. I don’t expect for him to change his ways. It’s sad to accept that about my own brother. It hurts more than I thought, to be this resigned about Joe.

I wish things had turned out differently.

A security guard passes by the kitchen window and gives me a little wave. They’re more visible now. Closer to the house than ever. I feel some relief, of course—it’s good to know they’re there. But then, Joe got past them by mailing something.

I rub my hands over my face. He mailed her a gift. That doesn’t mean he could actually hurt Paige.

Could he?

I shiver at the thought. Paige stirs as if she felt it, too. She slides off the couch and pads over to me, rubbing her eyes. My daughter drops her head onto my shoulder. She’s warm and sleepy, and it reminds me so much of when she was little that my heart squeezes at the memory.

“Mommy,” she says, her voice soft like it’s the middle of the night instead of the middle of the afternoon. I used to love the whispered, almost nonsensical conversations we’d have after she woke up from her afternoon naps. Back when she’d just started talking, she would talk and talk and I never understood a word. You pretend, though. You have a full conversation and all that matters is that you were talking to each other.

“Yes?” I rub her back. You never know when your child is going to stop napping. One day they just refuse, and you don’t have a toddler you can tuck into a crib anymore. You don’t have those hour-long stretches of peace in the afternoon. I used to crave Paige’s naptime, and then miss her when she was asleep. By the time I heard her babbling in her crib, I’d feel almost giddy at going to get her out again. Paige with her blonde bedhead and her chubby hands.

“I remember when you and Daddy would fight.”

I want to back away from the topic. I want to tiptoe away. Offer her some distraction, the way I would do when she was small and upset. But I won’t invalidate her memories that way. I won’t pretend it didn’t happen. My heart races against my will.