Chapter 3
I turned around and saw Bernie leaning against the doorframe, not coming in.
Me, Daisy Martha, twenty-five years old, divorced yesterday, remarried today.
My ex-husband ended up my stepson.
And my son suddenly became my grandson.
Bernie's villa was so big it felt almost empty.
When I stood in the living room holding Dawn's hand, our small reflections appeared on the marble floor.
Dawn, my five-year-old, gripped my fingers tightly, craning their neck to look up at the soaring ceiling. "Mom, this place feels like a museum," Dawn whispered.
"From now on, this is your home," I said softly.
Bernie walked in behind us, carrying Dawn's little suitcase, the one I'd packed yesterday, meant for Martin.
Martin didn't come along.
On the way from the hospital, he tried calling three times, but Bernie ignored every call.
"The rooms are on the second floor," Bernie said, leading us upstairs.
"Dawn's room is right next to the master bedroom," he added.
"The master bedroom?" I stopped in my tracks.
Bernie glanced back at me, his face calm, like he was just commenting on the weather.
"We're married, Daisy."
"Should we sleep in separate rooms just to show the servants? Or for Martin, who might drop by whenever he wants?"
My throat tightened.
Dawn tugged at my hand. "Mom, can I sleep by myself? I'm five now."
"Of course," I said, crouching down to kiss their forehead. "You're the bravest kid ever, Dawn."
Bernie pushed open a door.
The children's room was surprisingly cozy, with pale blue walls, a starry ceiling, and picture books and toys stacked in the corner.
What stood out most was a neat row of Ultraman action figures lined up on the carpet beside the bed.
But none of them were the knockoff ones Dawn usually loved.
"These are all the newest ones," Bernie said, sounding a little awkward.
"I noticed he liked them, so I picked them up."
Dawn's eyes lit up for a second, then faded. "But what about the one Aunt Selena gave me?"
"I got rid of it," Bernie said.
Dawn and I both looked up at him.
"It could spread germs," he said, keeping a straight face. "Old toys are full of bacteria. Not good when you're trying to get better."
He made it sound so serious, but I caught his ears turning red.
Dawn pouted, but didn't say anything else. They hugged the new toy I'd gotten them and headed into their room.
"Thanks," I said to Bernie once Dawn closed the door.
He paused, a bit confused. "For what?"
"For the toys," I said. "You didn't have to go out of your way..."
"It was for Dawn," he interrupted, then headed down the hall. "The master bedroom is this way."
The master bedroom was huge, almost ridiculously so.
My suitcase was on the floor by the bed. Martin had it sent over this morning, and I still hadn't even opened it.
"The walk-in closet on the left is empty. You can use it," Bernie said, standing at the door without coming in.
"I'll take the right side. The bathroom... you can go first. I'll use it later," he added.
With that, he turned and walked away, his steps a little hurried.
I leaned against the doorframe, and suddenly the whole situation just felt ridiculous, and almost laughable.
This was the same guy who swiped my ID and dragged me into this whole marriage mess, now standing at the bedroom door, acting all shy and not daring to step inside.
By the time I finally got Dawn settled in bed that night, it was already past nine.
Dawn had taken their medicine, and the fever was gone, but they still didn't seem quite themselves. They clung to my neck and whispered,
"Mom, does Dad not like me anymore?" Dawn asked softly.
"Of course not," I said, gently stroking their hair.
"So why won't he come see me?" Dawn's eyes glistening in the dim bedside light.
"Does Aunt Selena matter more than me?" Dawn pressed.
It felt like someone was squeezing my heart.
Kids at five saw right through everything.
"Dad's just really busy with work," I said, even though I didn't buy it myself. "Once he's done, he'll come see you, Dawn."
"Grandpa says Dad's bad," Dawn whispered.
"Grandpa says Dad's a dummy," he added.
I almost laughed, but my heart ached. "Grandpa's just being silly," I said, trying to comfort Dawn.
"But I like Grandpa," Dawn mumbled, burrowing even closer into my arms.
"Grandpa does puzzles with me and reads me stories. Dad never does that," Dawn whispered.
I didn't know what to say.
After finally getting Dawn to sleep, I headed back to the master bedroom. Bernie wasn't there. I could hear the sound of water running in the bathroom.
My suitcase was still sitting on the floor.
I crouched down and opened it. Right on top was the album with photos from my wedding to Martin, our honeymoon, and the day Dawn was born.
Seven years of memories was all tucked away in that heavy album.
I flipped to the first page. There I was, twenty-three, in my wedding dress, grinning without a care in the world.
Martin stood beside me, young and handsome, but his gaze was a little unfocused. I only found out later that Selena Tate had posted on her feed that day.
[Guess I really missed my chance after all.]