Angel gave her a look that said "Mommy is odd too" and she couldn't blame him. He had said that the messages were for Angel. Why the hell was she smiling?
She was pulled out of her thoughts by the boy's giggles. He threw his head back into the pillows and laughed his little heart out at the cartoon drawing on the cover of Rumpelstiltskin.
A soft laugh left her mouth. "Do you want me to read you this one?"
He nodded happily so she kept the other books away and opened the storybook he had chosen.
"Once upon a time, there was a miller who had a daughter. She was pretty and clever…"
Angel fell asleep before she was five pages into the story. She stroked his cheek and kissed it. Sometimes she was convinced that it wasn't the stories but her voice that lulled him to sleep. Most of the time she would read him a story but when his emotions were ruffled, she would sing him a song. She had done it for four years but it still felt new every time.
She tucked in his little body and kissed his forehead, then turned off the lights and left the room.
On other nights, she would go to her room, take a bath, snuggle into her bed and fall asleep. But not tonight. Well, at least not after getting into bed.
Sleep had deserted her and while she knew that she shouldn't, she reached for her phone on the night stand and tapped it to turn the screen on. She launched her messaging app and started reading through Damon's texts, over analysing them.
[I ate too. My dinner was boring. I only had instant noodles and they were overcooked. Not the yummiest.] There was nothing to analyse about that one but she couldn't help picturing a smile on his face when he wrote it. His lips would curl on both sides and slight dimples would form on his face. His very handsome face.
She scrolled to the message.
[But I kept thinking about you while I ate so it tasted good. You are so cute when you chew cookies. I can't stop thinking about it now even as I write this. Your beautiful eyes will probably widen when you read it.]
Her eyes did widen when she read it. She was no longer certain who the message was for. He had said that she should show it to Angel but the content seemed odd.
[I'll stop rambling now or you will start to think I'm out of my mind. Go to sleep soon. Remember to dream about me.] She read the third message, which had made her even more confused. Did dads usually ask their kids to dream about them? She was not sure because she didn't have any experience. If they did, did the words make the kids' mums have a kaleidoscope of butterflies in their stomachs?
[See you tomorrow, angel.]
She scrolled down, up, and then down again and tried to assess the last word of the text she had read more times than the others.
He had written angel. Not Angel.
There wasn't a difference and it was probably a typing error or autocorrect working its infuriating magic but her mind ran wilder than it should. She had not forgotten that he had always called her 'angel' in the past.
She rolled to her side and placed her phone facing down on the pillow. It must be a typing error.
She didn't want to see the last text message which had made her eyes go wide earlier. She shouldn't take a peek at it. She should return her phone to the night stand and go to sleep yet she didn't. She flipped it and glanced at the three words at the bottom of the chat window.
[I love you.]
She closed her eyes for a few seconds as she rolled onto her back and placed the phone on her stomach. When she opened them, she read through the entire conversation as if looking for something. Anything that could tell her that these messages were all meant for her son and she was being ridiculous by acting like they were for her.
Then she saw something that pinned the last nail on the coffin.
[Please show the text below to Angel.] read the first text message.
The text below. Her mind zeroed in on the word text. He didn't say texts. Did that mean that the rambling that came after the second text was not meant to be shown to Angel?
Nope. No way. She should sleep and stop being ridiculous.
She groaned into the dark of night. "Damon D'aboville, why are you doing this to me?"
___
AN
Who do you think the texts are for?
Let's bet, lol.