It was finally a teenage girl’s room. Eclectic, but lived-in and warm with lots of style.

I loved it for her.

I also loved she spent time there but did it with the door open. Not closing us out. But liking to be in her space, with the way open to her family.

“Hey,” she said. “I like Tia. She rocks.”

I smiled at her and took that as an invitation to walk in.

“Maybe we can talk her into going shopping with us tomorrow,” I suggested. “It’s never too early to think of Christmas.”

“So Clara,” she muttered as I sat on the side of her bed, her gaze on me and it was glittering. “All organized and shit.”

I shrugged.

“I’m not gonna say no to shopping,” she said. “But we should buy pumpkins and carve them.”

That sounded much better.

“I’m down with that.”

She grinned at me.

“You feel like talking?” I asked.

Her head tipped to the side, her lustrous hair tipping with it.

“About what?”

“Whatever you want,” I offered.

She looked at me, long and hard, before she patted the bed at her side.

I shifted and got in bed with her, both of us up against the headboard, legs out straight.

She looked at my hand.

Then she took my hand and fiddled with my fingers.

I didn’t know what to make of this, but I kept my silence and let Tatiana take her time in telling me.

Eventually, she whispered, “Don’t be mad.”

Oh boy.

I forced my tone to be light when I asked, “Mad about what?”

Her gaze came to mine and she kept whispering when she said, “I talk to Debbie.”

This was not what I expected.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, it’s never happened to you,” she said like it was a confession.

But I understood.

“Honey, I’m not mad you talk to Debbie.”

“You’re not?” Now she sounded surprised.

“Of course not, Tatie. I arranged it so you could meet so you’d have someone who got it to talk to. But beyond that, you’re free to do what you want, spend time with who you want, make friends with who you want, live your life how you want.” I paused and added, “Within your father’s rules, that is.”

She seemed bemused.

“So you’re not mad that I lean on Debbie and not you?”

All right, maybe I wished I’d got another smack in with her mother that afternoon.

Tatiana totally didn’t know how to do this.

I’d never even had a mother and I knew more than she did.

“No, I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I’m glad. I’m glad you have someone to talk to about what happened to you. I’m glad you have people who care about you and you know it. I’m glad you have anything that makes you happy or makes you feel protected or looked after and loved.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Can I ask you a question?” I requested.

“Shoot,” she invited.

“Why didn’t you do up your room before we did it together?”

After I asked this, her eyes moved around the room.

And when she spoke, she spoke to the room.

“We moved up here, way before they broke up. Dad wanted to make the move before Gear and me got deep in school so we didn’t move when we were in the middle of making friends. But I think mostly,” she turned her head to me, “he did it to give Mom a cool house. She was never happy with, like, anything. Dad liked to be around his brothers. He didn’t wanna be on the road goin’ back and forth to home when he could be with his family. But Mom was always talkin’ about havin’ land. Dad getting us a cabin somewhere so we could ‘escape.’ So he found this and got it. For her.”

“All right,” I said when she stopped and said no more.

But she was watching me closely again.

And she explained why when she asked, “That doesn’t upset you? That he bought this place for Mom?”

“No. It’s his now. So, no,” I answered.

“I did up his room, after they split,” she said like this was gravely important. “The whole thing. The bed isn’t even the same.”

I took control of her hand, which was still holding mine, and gave it a squeeze.

“Your mother doesn’t factor in our lives in that way, Tatie,” I promised, then grinned. “Though, you have good taste. I always wondered why your dad’s bedroom was so fantastic.”

She grinned back.

“That said, honey,” I went on, “it doesn’t explain why you didn’t claim your room. You’d been living here—”

“They broke up when I stopped being a little girl.”

I closed my mouth.

She carried on.

“It was Dad. He has sisters. He said my little girl room had to go. And it was pink, Toots, pink with lots of purple and some glittery stars and other shit Dad thought a little girl would like. And I did like it when I was a little girl. He moved it all out, repainted, got new furniture and they split up and…and…” she drew in a visible breath, “and I guess I didn’t have anybody to help me fix it back up.”

Her fingers twisted so they were threaded through mine.

And she finished on a whisper, “Now, I do.”

“Now, you do,” I whispered back.

And now, I did.

I had a girl to help fix up her room and sit on her bed and talk about stuff.

And to love.

I didn’t have that myself, when I was a little girl, or a teenage one.

But I got to give it to Tatie.

And for me, that worked.

In a big way.

“My room sucks at Mom and Knuckles’ place,” she told me.

Hopefully, soon, that would be a memory.

“Well, you have your space here,” I unnecessarily reminded her, since we were lounging in it.

“Yeah, I got a lot here,” she said.

Uh-oh.

I was going to cry.

“Toots, don’t,” she begged. “’Cause I’ll start bawlin’ with you and your friend is sweet and I’m glad she’s back, safe and sound, and her man is hot and they look happy and it’s all good.” Her hand shook mine. “Yeah?”

I nodded, but said, “I’m supposed to reassure you.”

“Well, I get to do it sometimes too,” she retorted.

“Hate to break this up, my two girls,” Buck said low from the doorway.

We both turned our attention that way.

And yes.

Buck standing there looking like someone handed the world to him on a platter just seeing his woman and daughter talking together.

It was all good.

“Talk to you a second, Toots?” he asked. “Then you can come back.”

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” Tatiana announced. She then leaned into me, kissed my cheek, and said in my ear, “Love you and love you worry about me, but I’m okay. I get in a bad place, I call Debbie. She’s, like, my after-assholes-fuck-with-you sponsor.”

I pulled back, stared in her eyes, and tried really hard not to take her in my arms because I figured I might crush her to death with what I was feeling after she told me she loved me.