“We’ll be back then, so get your Go Fish game on, Cooper,” Leslie said with a teasing lilt. She turned at the door to the bedroom. “I have to warn you, though. I am the all-time reigning champion of Go Fish. And I won’t take pity on you because you’re sick.”
Erica smiled, her competitive spirit igniting. “Thanks for the heads-up, Raymond.” She played along. “But even sick, I think I’m up for it. It will be a pleasure taking down the reigning champion.”
Leslie chuckled. “Be back soon.”
Erica watched her move through the bedroom and disappear into the darkened hallway. In some moments, she felt so close to her, and yet, there was so much she didn’t know about Leslie. She had to keep in mind they’d simply been thrown into this incredibly intimate circumstance, and once it was over, it wouldn’t mean a thing. If anything, it would speed up Leslie’s retreat. Who would stick around after this kind of a beginning, even as a friend? This was the kind of situation you had to build up to. At least this time, the person running wouldn’t be running because of Siena’s needs and demands, or not completely anyway. For some reason, that made Erica feel better.
At a bare minimum, though, Erica owed Leslie an extremely nice thank you gift, then they could put all this behind them and settle into being much more traditional neighbors. She sighed and snuggled into the blanket. For now, she could rest and be thankful for Leslie Raymond, whoever she was.
Chapter Eight
Leslie lay on Erica’s couch, staring at the ceiling of the family room. She couldn’t assuage her awareness that Erica’s bedroom was directly above her—that Erica was directly above her. Yeah, and she’s sick. Even sick, though, something about her kept drawing Leslie closer. Not the previous morning when she was sick sick—no one was alluring when they were throwing up—but last night.
When Leslie had looked to the balcony and seen Erica was up and moving under her own strength, Leslie had been immensely relieved, illogically so, as though she’d come back from the brink of death. Then there was that inadvertent touch, that moment when Leslie’s fingertips skated over the bare skin of Erica’s thigh. It’d sent a jolt of…well, there was no denying it…of arousal, straight to Leslie’s core. She’d known she was attracted to Erica…But Christ. Even now, at only the memory, she felt the unmistakable stirring in the pit of her stomach. And when Erica had risen to Leslie’s playful challenge about the card game. As it turned out, their short bout of competitive posturing had been irrelevant because Siena had cleaned both their clocks, but still, the glimpse of that side of Erica had charmed Leslie.
Finally, there was the moment that was nearly Leslie’s undoing, when she realized just how much trouble she could be in if she didn’t start doing something differently, and quick. She’d just closed the book after the story Siena had requested and looked up to find Siena cuddled against Erica, Erica’s cheek pressed to Siena’s hair, and Gus stretched out across both their laps. All three appeared sound asleep. Leslie basked in the image, then startled when she realized Erica had opened her eyes at some point and was staring back at her. Something like contentment—or no, genuine happiness—shone in them.
Leslie flinched, then scrambled for something to say. “Do you want me to put her to bed?” she whispered.
“In a minute,” Erica said, letting her eyelids close again. “I don’t get many moments like this. I want to savor it.”
When Leslie returned from tucking Siena in, she found Erica curled on her side, hugging a pillow, deep in sleep. A tiny smile shaped her lips. Leslie had wanted so badly to brush a lock of that silvery hair from Erica’s cheek, but she hadn’t dared touch her. She’d been afraid if she did, she wouldn’t want to stop.
Leslie groaned and flipped onto her side.
Gus grunted and shifted his position at her feet.
It’d surprised her when he’d followed her downstairs the previous night and nestled into her blanket with her. He always seemed to know, though, who needed him most, and he must have sensed what a mess Leslie was following the day of playing house with Erica and Siena. Her emotions had snuck up on her. That was all. Today would be better. She’d be on guard. Then in a couple more days, Erica would be back on her feet, and Leslie would be able to focus on starting her brand new life instead of letting herself get sucked into this fantasy one.
Leslie heard the shuffling of footsteps on the stairs and glanced up.
Siena descended the steps, her hair tousled and her expression grumpy.
“How’s the Go Fish champion this morning?” Leslie asked as she sat up and patted the cushion beside her.
Siena didn’t answer, just crossed to the couch and flopped onto it. “I want breakfast.”
Leslie scratched her head and yawned. She’d forgotten how instantaneous parent mode needed to be first thing in the morning. She used to make a point of getting up a couple of hours before Elijah to ensure she had time to get fully awake as well as to get in a meditation, some yoga, and a shower. She might have thought to do that this morning had Erica wanted her to try getting Siena to her day program, but she’d gone to bed knowing today would be another casual one. “Do you want pancakes and blueberries again?”
“No. I want cookies.” Siena stole a sidelong glance at Leslie.
Leslie smiled. “How about pancakes for breakfast, then we’ll make cookies later.”
“My mom let’s me have cookies for breakfast,” Siena said, folding her arms across her chest.
“I doubt that,” Leslie said. She almost laughed at the idea.
“She does.” Siena jumped up and spun around to face Leslie.
Surprised, Leslie held up her hands. “Easy, I didn’t mean anything by it.” She scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion. “Let’s go make some pancakes. Then we can get some more stuff put away at my house, and that leaves the afternoon free for cookie baking.”
“No!” Siena’s voice rose shrilly. She stomped her foot. “I don’t want pancakes!”
Leslie balked. She stared at Siena, tension tightening her muscles. Had she done it again—ignited one of Siena’s meltdowns? This seemed different somehow. She watched Siena closely.
“I don’t want pancakes! I don’t want pancakes! I don’t want pancakes!” Siena yelled.
Leslie searched her brain. What to do. She tried to remember. She knew not to touch her but couldn’t come up with what to do. “Siena,” she said calmly.
Siena glared at her. “I don’t want them! You can’t make me—”
“Siena Amelia Cooper, knock that off!” Erica’s voice rang through the room. It held a hard edge Leslie hadn’t heard in it before.
Siena froze.
Leslie looked up with a jerk to find Erica teetering at the top of the stairs.
Erica clung to the handrail.
Without thinking, Leslie raced up to her. She slid an arm around Erica’s waist just as Erica sank to the floor. She sat down with her.
Erica leaned into her. “Whoa, I think I got up too fast. I’m dizzy.”
Leslie held her tightly. “Take a minute and breathe. Deep breaths.”
Erica took in a gulp of air, then looked down the stairs. “Siena, you go back to bed, and set your alarm for a five-minute time-out. And when you come back, you’d better be ready to apologize to Leslie.”
Siena’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears as she ran past them.
Shaken by the entire scene, Leslie jumped at the slam of the bedroom door behind them. “I’m so sorry. I don’t seem to be very good at this.”
“At what?” Erica propped her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. “Telling a child that cookies aren’t an appropriate breakfast food? I think you did fine.”
“Yeah, but it caused a meltdown.” Leslie listened but didn’t hear any crying or yelling from Siena’s room. In fact, she heard no sound at all.
Erica drew in another deep breath, then straightened. “That wasn’t a meltdown. That was a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum aimed at manipulating yo
u to give her what she wanted.”
“Really?” Leslie blinked at her. Was that the difference she’d noticed? “How do you know?”
“There’s a deliberateness to a tantrum,” Erica said. “She’s in control, even though it might not appear so at first glance. She’ll look at you to check to see if she has your attention, whereas in a meltdown she’s completely unaware of you. Her focus is inward. And during a tantrum, there’s a specific goal. In this case, cookies for breakfast.” She smiled at Leslie. “You did great.”
Leslie frowned. “Only because you stepped in. I was about to try to handle it the other way. That was the first I’ve seen of that side of her.” She chuckled, thinking back to Elijah’s occasional tantrums. She knew it wasn’t unusual behavior for any kid, or even adults at times, for that matter. “How did you know from all the way in your room?”
Erica laughed. “It’s not my first time. And I was already out here. I got up because, as you now know, she doesn’t always wake up in the best of moods. “
“Still, that’s pretty impressive.”
“Her voice has an entirely different sound to it,” Erica said, returning to the question. “You’ll learn it, if you stick around.”
Leslie stilled. If I stick around? Did Erica know what she’d been thinking? How could she? Leslie wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t offer her any assurances.
Erica did her hair-tuck, look-away move and broke eye contact.
Leslie cleared her throat. “Can I help you back to bed?”
“No,” Erica said with some force. “I’m sick of my room. I’d like to go downstairs.”
“Sure.” Leslie rose and held out her hand.
“I think I can make it,” Erica said, gripping the handrail again and pulling herself to her feet.
Leslie nodded but stayed close all the way to the couch. “Can I get you anything?” she asked, once Erica was settled.
Erica looked up at her, her face pale. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
Leslie gave her a sympathetic smile. “It might be a little too soon for that, but there’s still the delicious lime Jell-O from last night, if that sounds doable.”
Erica paused, looking thoughtful. “Well,” she said slowly, “my stomach didn’t turn at the mention, so I guess I’ll try it.”
When Leslie returned from the kitchen, she handed Erica the gelatin, then casually dropped onto the love seat across from where Erica sat. She wanted to avoid any more accidental touches of bare skin. She’d noticed that Erica had slipped on a pair of lounge shorts beneath her T-shirt, but there was still a lot of leg showing. As challenging as it was not to look, it would be more difficult to be sitting right next to her.
Erica took a bite of Jell-O. “Mmmm. This actually tastes really good.”
“How’s it feel on your stomach?” Leslie watched Erica’s lips close around a second spoonful, then the movement beneath the smooth skin of her throat as she swallowed. Her pulse quickened. She averted her gaze.
Erica waited. “It seems okay.”
Leslie shifted in her seat, acutely aware that she and Erica were alone together. They usually had Siena as a buffer. Was that all that kept sparks from flying between them? Not them. Her. I’m the only one acting like an idiot. She’s just eating Jell-O. It was Leslie that was having trouble controlling her attraction. Erica didn’t even have one. And what the hell am I doing looking at her like this? She’s the last woman I should be thinking of that way.
“My alarm went off. Can I come out?”
Siena’s voice drew Leslie from her inappropriate thoughts to the top of the stairs where Siena stood.
“Are you ready to tell Leslie you’re sorry for throwing a fit when all she was trying to do was make you breakfast?” Erica’s tone indicated she was still in full-on Mom mode where Siena was concerned.
“Yes.” Siena’s manner was a bit sulky.
“All right then. You may come down.” Erica leaned closer to Leslie. “Don’t expect anything heartfelt,” she whispered. “Apologies are pretty rote at this point, but we take what we can get.”
Leslie nodded.
Siena plodded up to them and looked at Erica.
Erica lifted her eyebrow.
Siena turned to Leslie. “I’m sorry. I thought about it in my room, and I want pancakes now.”
Leslie stifled a smile. “Apology accepted,” she said with a dip of her head.
Gus whined from where he sat by the sliding glass door.
“Can I go outside and play?” Siena asked.
“Until breakfast is ready.” Erica went back to her Jell-O, and the entire incident seemed to be over. “Thank you for letting us practice on you,” she said to Leslie when they were alone again. Her demeanor was nonchalant. Clearly, the scenario wasn’t anything new to her.
But how does she stay so calm? Leslie was growing increasingly in awe. She laughed quietly. “Happy to be of service.” Before she had a chance to start feeling awkward being alone with Erica again, she stood. “Let me get those pancakes going before she changes her mind.”
Breakfast, for the most part, went without incident, although the smell of the cooking made Erica queasy. Leslie helped her out to the patio and into the fresh air, but all the activity had drained Erica. She decided on a morning nap on the swing. The rest of the day had all the appearance of things reverting to normalcy. There were no further tantrums, no meltdowns, and no more vomiting. Things were looking up.
Leslie and Siena spent the morning as they’d planned, continuing to put things away in Leslie’s house, then after lunch, they made the promised cookies, while Erica remained outside, texting with Becky. By dinner, Erica was ready to try some broth and even managed a few bites of a peanut butter cookie for dessert. As they settled in to watch The Wizard of Oz, one of Siena’s favorite movies, Leslie found herself feeling far too at home once again. She’d kept her guard up throughout the day, but there was something about the evening that lulled her into complacency. She caught herself glancing at Erica occasionally, amused by how riveted to the movie she was, as though it was her first time seeing it. She was curled up on the opposite end of the couch snuggled into the pillow Leslie would be using again later that night, the blanket covering her legs. Siena sat between them with Gus’s head on her lap.
What was this world Leslie had stumbled into, where this ready-made family seemed to have been waiting for her? She remembered Siena’s words about how she thought Leslie had come there to be with them. She’d said it so matter-of-factly. For all intents and purposes, at least so far, that seemed to be the case. When Leslie glanced at Erica again, she found Erica watching her.
As their eyes met, Erica smiled, then returned her attention to the TV.
An unwanted tenderness moved through Leslie. How had she let this happen? And what did she do about it now that she had? One voice in her head screamed, Get the hell out of here as fast as you can, and stay as far away as possible. Another one, a softer and somehow more certain one, said, This is where you belong. That couldn’t be right, though. This was where she’d been. Not here exactly, but close enough to be a parallel universe—and look what that had gotten her. That softer voice persisted, luring her in. It felt so good here. But she also heard the stir of echoes from the past loud and clear, as though each and every fragment of her heart that had been so broken at the loss of Elijah was keening a resounding no.
But Leslie, Siena, and Erica didn’t have to be a family. Couldn’t they all be friends, next-door neighbors that spent time together as her parents had with several of the families that had lived in this very house over the years? How could she deal with that, though, with as strongly as she was beginning to feel in such a short period of time? Wasn’t it only going to get worse?
She sneaked another peek at Erica. Maybe if she simply talked to her, explained her past with Elijah and Cassie, her fear of it happening again, how much she adored spending time with Siena. Maybe she could even tell Erica about her attraction to
her. That, in and of itself, would no doubt put an end to it. She’d tell Erica. Erica would let her down gently. Then Leslie could get over it. And everything else would be out on the table and maybe they could work something out that would allow all of them to be friends without the risk seeming so high. Or is that a crazy amount of pressure to put on someone I’ve just met?
But Erica seemed to want to be friends, too. This wouldn’t be a one-sided thing. Erica had implied that she missed adult company. Her life seemed somewhat isolated, which was probably not too uncommon for single parents of autistic children. It was clearly important to keep a certain routine in Siena’s life, to keep it quiet. Weren’t those the very reasons Erica had given for her move from Chicago? In doing so, though, how much did that limit Erica? Having a close friend right next door might be the very thing that could help her as well. Maybe Leslie could talk to her about it later.
By the time the movie ended, Erica had drifted off to sleep. Leslie got Siena into bed, then read a book Siena picked out about how friends say they’re sorry when they’re unkind to one another. She wondered if this was her real apology. The thought brought her an inner smile. When she’d finished, she switched off the light and left Gus to keep an eye on her. Downstairs again, she leaned over Erica. “Hey,” she whispered, not wanting to startle her.
Erica didn’t make a sound or even flutter an eyelid.
“Erica.” Leslie tried again.
Still no response.
Tentatively, she touched Erica’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her shirt. She gave her a gentle shake.
“Hmmm.” Erica shifted onto her back.
Leslie’s fingertips grazed the soft skin of her throat. The same jolt of desire from the previous night, shot through her. This time, she let herself feel it. It’d been a long time since she’d reacted this way to a woman. She brushed a few strands of hair from Erica’s forehead. They were silky.
Erica slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, confusion in her expression. “Did I fall asleep again?”
A Wish Upon a Star Page 13
