All My Life

by Prescott Lane

  “Dad, the flowers,” Mia says, pointing to a grocery sack filled with bright yellow sunflowers. They remembered my favorite color is yellow? This grocery store purchase gets no judgment from me. Flowers are flowers, no matter where you get them.

  Garrett places them in a vase filled with water. “This was all Mia’s idea,” he says. “She got up, went to the store, and got everything.”

  Part of me wonders if this is Mia’s way of avoiding talking about last night, but I’ll take it. She throws her arms around my neck and whispers, “Thank you.”

  Kissing her cheek, my eyes go to Garrett, grinning at us. “We made all your favorites.”

  Mia stands up with pride, listing off the menu. “Mango, banana, and orange smoothie and hot chocolate French toast.”

  My mouth falls open. “How did you . . .”

  “We know what you like, too,” Garrett says, giving me a wink.

  I place my napkin in my lap as Mia places the food down in front of me. Surprised at how good it looks, I’m praying that Mia has better abilities in the kitchen than her father. Well, he is good in the kitchen, only it involves us on the floor naked, not him cooking.

  Picking up the smoothie, I take a long drink. Mistake number one. I should have sipped it or smelled it first. It’s a smoothie. It shouldn’t be crunchy.

  “I told you that you don’t put the seeds in,” Mia says, laughing and playfully swatting her dad. “She looks like she’s about to choke.” Garrett busts out laughing. “Try the French toast,” Mia says.

  This time I’m more careful, examining it with my fork before I take a bite, and I only take a little one. There’s something really odd about it. I’ve made this recipe a couple ways—with unsweetened cocoa powder or with hot chocolate mix, but this is something else.

  “What kind of chocolate did you use?” I ask.

  “A candy bar,” Mia says. “Dad used your blender to smash it. It’s good?”

  “It’s the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” I say, getting to my feet and hugging them both.

  “Don’t worry,” Garrett says. “We’re going to clean up, too.”

  Mia gets this look on her face, her big brown eyes working overtime. “Daddy, I really need to go see Penny . . .”

  “You’re grounded,” he says.

  I guess they did have a talk this morning. “I know, that’s why I need to see her. Before my grounding goes into effect.” She gives him the cheesiest smile. “She was worried about me last night, too. Please! I promise after this, just work and time with you and Mom until the Fourth of July like you said.”

  The fact that I’m not included in those plans slaps me in the face. It shouldn’t. Why would I be included? I’m not family. Mia doesn’t know anything has changed between her father and me.

  “Thirty minutes,” he says. She kisses him on the cheek, hugs me, then is out the door. “She’s like a different child this morning,” Garrett says, leaning down to kiss my neck.

  “Should’ve asked for more than thirty minutes,” I say, giving Garrett a flirty smile.

  He whisks me out of the chair, throwing me over his shoulder, and carries me to my bed. Laughing, he places me down, his body on top of mine. “This was a lovely surprise,” I say.

  “Wish I could take the credit,” he says.

  His fingers lightly comb through my hair. “Did you find out where she was last night? What happened?”

  He nods. “I can’t believe she didn’t call me.”

  “Think she was pretty embarrassed.”

  “When I think about what could’ve happened,” he says, his eyes closing.

  “She’s okay,” I say, tenderly.

  “Mostly she wanted to talk about Sheena,” he says. “We had a long talk. She wants to spend time with her.” He blows out a deep breath. “I need to give Mia some time. She’s in a fragile place. Fighting with Sheena and putting up roadblocks will only hurt Mia. I need to know you understand.”

  “Don’t I always?” I say, scooting up.

  “Don’t be that way,” he says.

  “What does this mean for me? For us? What are you saying? We can’t see each other?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I say, “I’m too tired to have this conversation.”

  “This might be a first,” he says. “A woman who doesn’t want to talk.”

  “I’ve already talked to Sheena and your dad this morning, so . . .”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say, not wanting to get into it all. It goes nowhere.

  “I need to talk to my dad,” he says. “I was planning on doing that when I leave here. What did Sheena say?”

  “It’s not important,” I say. “I can’t tell on her every time she runs her mouth.”

  “You can if she’s upsetting you. I want to know.”

  I repeat what Sheena said, waiting to see if his head explodes when I mention the bit about him never wanting to have a baby with me.

  “Oh.”

  Oh? That’s what he says? Dude wanted to talk, and that’s his big speech? “You want to have this conversation?” I ask.

  Taking hold of my hand, he says, “Mia went through this phase where she really wanted a sibling. I told her I didn’t think it was in the cards. God gave me perfect when he gave me her, so why mess with that? That’s what I told her. It was years ago.”

  Our baby would be perfect, too, I think, but don’t say it. Don’t need to add more to his plate. There’s a right time and place to have this conversation, and we will have it. Just not now. Not after last night. “Okay,” I say.

  He pulls me to him, his lips finding mine. “We’re wasting our thirty minutes,” he says.

  “You know, grounding a kid is pretty much like grounding yourself,” I say, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I might have to give her time off for good behavior,” he says, removing my shirt.

  “You’d unground her because you’re horny?”

  Off with my panties, he says, “Absolutely.”

  “I love that,” I say, pulling him closer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  GARRETT

  “Mom’s here,” Mia calls out, rushing to the door.

  Keeping some distance, I stand in the doorway of the den. Since their last visit ended up with Mia staying gone all night, we decided it was best for Sheena and Mia to visit at my house. That way I can keep an eye on things. Plus, I think Mia needs to see that Sheena and I can set aside our differences.

  When they meet, they don’t hug—although I can tell Sheena wants to. “Garrett,” Sheena says, throwing me a smile, “thanks for this.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  She turns back to Mia. “I realized I never gave you your birthday gift.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out the wooden box.

  Mia’s eyes light up. “Can I open it?”

  “They’re letters I’ve written you over the years, so maybe you should read them another time.”

  Mia hugs them to her chest. “Thank you.”

  “So I thought you might want to look at some photos, old home videos,” Mia says.

  “I’d love that.”

  They walk into the den, the table full of pictures, albums, keepsakes. It’s a little documentary of Mia. Mia walks Sheena through every vacation, every Christmas. Mostly I listen. Listen to my daughter describe our life together.

  And not just our life together.

  How happy she’s been.

  I did that.

  Could I do that all again? The diapers? The no sleep? The ear infections and sore throats? The homework? Everything in those pictures Mia’s flipping through. Can I give another child all that?

  As I glance through the pictures, I see my mom, my dad, people from town, and Devlyn. Usually, she’s hidden in the background somewhere, but always there. I can catch a glimpse of her hair, her tutu, some part of her.

  “Look at this one!” Mia laughs, holding it up to me. “You remember?”


  I snatch it from her. “You said you tore that one up!”

  She turns to Sheena. “I was completely obsessed with Harry Potter this one Halloween.”

  “Just one,” I tease her.

  “Anyway, I dressed up as Hermione, and Dad surprised me and dressed up as Professor Snape! He wore a wig and everything. It was awesome.”

  “This I have to see,” Sheena says, reaching out for the photo.

  “Wait,” Mia screams, leaping up. “I think I still have the wig.”

  Laughing, she runs to her room. “Mia, don’t you dare!” I playfully threaten.

  Sheena picks up some more photos, a huge smile on her face. “I never thought I’d get to see all this.” Then she looks right in my eyes. “Fatherhood agrees with you, Garrett.”

  “I heard you had a talk with Devlyn about that,” I say. “If this is going to work, then I suggest you mind your own business and stay away from Devlyn.”

  “I don’t remember you being so protective of her,” Sheena says.

  Wasn’t I? If not, then I must’ve been a complete douchebag. Mia comes walking out, the ridiculous wig on her head, and starts giving one of Professor Snape’s famous monologues from Harry Potter: “I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”

  She only stops because she starts laughing so hard, then takes the wig off and tries to force it on my head. Dodging her, Sheena grabs it, plopping it on her own head. Smiling, she looks at me then to Mia, quoting Snape again, “You have your mother’s eyes.”

  Then it happens. I’m not sure who reached for who first, or if it was mutual, but either way, Sheena and Mia are wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s almost as if they’re making their first memory together.

  Mia looks so happy.

  Sheena has the same look.

  Wanting Mia to have this moment, I try to sneak out, wanting to make myself scarce the rest of the night. “Daddy,” Mia says. “Where are you going?”

  “Thought I’d give you two some time alone.”

  “I want you to stay,” Mia says. “It’s kind of like we’re having our first Halloween.”

  Sheena squeezes her again. “And my letters are like I was with you for your birthdays.”

  “Maybe we could have dinner,” Sheena says. “A family dinner.”

  “Yes!” Mia agrees.

  “Wait,” I say without thinking, then I look into my daughter’s hopeful eyes, filled with so much need. God help me.

  Mia wants a few normal family memories. I can’t give her back all the Christmases, the awkward first days of school. I’ve spent my life trying to give Mia everything she needed. Now she needs this.

  This isn’t a want. This is a need, and as her father, it’s my job to give her what she needs.

  *

  They say a woman’s work is never done. The same holds true for us guys. Work, family, friends—we get pulled in a thousand different directions. Keeping your woman happy has to be at the top of that list. So when you’ve got more than one woman in your life, it’s a balancing act. I’ve suddenly got three. I could care less about Sheena’s happiness, except as it relates to Mia, but Mia and Devlyn are a different story.

  The past few weeks have been delicate, to say the least. I have to make sure that Sheena doesn’t do anything to upset Mia or Devlyn or both. I have to make sure that Mia is happy, adjusting okay, that I’m spending enough time with her alone, and with her and Sheena together so she has some semblance of happy parents, or at the very least, parents that don’t hate each other.

  Then there’s Devlyn.

  She’s in a class all by herself. She’s where I want to be focusing my attention, but I’ve been divided. I know that. She’s a badass woman, though, handling things with her usual smile. Still, I know this is hard on her. Which is why I’m going to tell Mia about us before the dedication of the pavilion at the Falls. I want Devlyn by my side when they cut the ribbon. I want her standing with me and Mia.

  Sheena’s been here a few weeks now. She’s planning on staying through the month of July, taking an extended leave from work. I don’t want to keep pushing back telling Mia about Devlyn and me. It’s not fair. I just hope it doesn’t send her into Sheena’s arms more than she already is.

  That child has fallen hard for her mother. I guess I should’ve expected it. I fell just as hard eighteen years ago. Frankly, it scares the shit out of me. I know how bad it hurts when Sheena disappoints, and I still don’t trust her entirely. Maybe what scares me even more is sharing my daughter for the first time. Sheena has already hinted at Mia visiting her in Europe, spending a holiday or summer there. Over my dead body!

  I feel like I’m in a three-ring circus. In this ring, you’ve got the crazy ex. In the opposite ring, you’ve got my daughter. Center ring, you’ve got Devlyn. I’m the ringmaster, trying to juggle the wants and needs of all three. It’s fucking exhausting.

  It’s about to end. It’s time everyone knows how important Devlyn is to me. Most importantly, Devlyn.

  Mia and I head out the door. Our mornings at Biscuit Girl haven’t been as frequent as before, mostly because Mia wants to spend as much time as possible with Sheena. I’m also trying to keep Sheena and Devlyn apart as much as I can, so we don’t make it to the diner every morning like we used to.

  “Off to Biscuit Girl?” my father calls out like so many mornings before.

  Mia simply looks the other way.

  “Mia?” I say harshly.

  She’s still not forgiven him for the no-contact clause, refusing to even talk to him. Her disrespect has landed her in serious hot water with me in terms of her car—it’s in a permanent time-out until she works things out with her grandfather.

  “Yes, we’re going to the diner,” she says with attitude.

  Dad gives me a little smile. The old man is nothing if not patient. He and I had our say, but we’ve moved on. Guys are like that. Unfortunately, teenage girls and grudges seem to go together. I have to wonder if Sheena has something to do with it, as well. She blames my dad, so Mia blames him, too.

  As we walk, I proceed to give Mia the same lecture I’ve given her every day since she decided her grandparents set out to keep her from her mother—that her grandfather meant well, thought he was doing the right thing—but like every other day, it’s falling on deaf ears.

  “There’s something else I want to talk to you about later,” I say. “Something important.”

  “Mom?”

  “No, not your . . .”

  “No,” Mia cries, pointing to the gazebo. “Mom’s here.”

  Mia hurries over and gives her mother a big hug, and Sheena kisses her on top of the head. “I was hoping to catch you,” Sheena tells me. “I brought breakfast. Thought we could all eat and then I was hoping to take Mia shopping. Maybe get a new outfit for the dedication.”

  “You’re coming to that, right?” Mia asks.

  Sheena looks over at me, and I give her a little headshake. “I think that’s something you and your dad should go to together.”

  Sheena and I have gotten pretty good maneuvering this whole thing, which means she knows when to back down. Mia seems to be good with whatever Sheena says, seldom questioning her or her motives. It’s a bit scary, to be honest.

  “Should we go to the hardware store to eat?” Sheena asks, turning to me. “I brought you something healthy for breakfast. You have the worst eating habits.”

  “I’m always telling him that,” Mia says, enjoying ganging up on me with her mother. “What did you bring?”

  “Cottage cheese and . . .”

  “Need my coffee,” I say, pointing to the diner, and not mentioning I also need my morning smack of Devlyn’s ass in her back room.

  “I’ll get it,” Mia says, already rushing that way, too late for me to stop her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  DEVLYN

  “Coffee to go,” Mia says, leaning up on the counter, looking way too chipper for a teenager in the morning. “F
or Dad.”

  “No breakfast?” I ask, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice that Garrett won’t be sneaking in the back for a quick kiss good morning.

  “Mom brought us breakfast,” Mia says, pointing toward the gazebo.

  Sheena and Garrett are standing there talking. It might as well be eighteen years ago. Me in the diner feeling jealous as all get out, and the two of them oblivious to anyone or anything around them.

  “Mom’s taking me shopping today.”

  “That’s great,” I say, grabbing a to-go cup.

  “I know,” she says wistfully. “I’m so happy she’s here. We are doing all kinds of things together. We’ve gotten our nails done and . . .”

  Does she not remember when I gave her her first mani-pedi?

  She continues talking about all the wonderful things her and Sheena have done, most of which are things she and I used to do together. I’ve been replaced, or perhaps it was never my place to begin with. I want to be happy for her. I am happy for her, but I’m sad for me, not sure of my role in her life anymore.

  “You know the best part?” Mia asks, as I place a lid on the piping hot cup, made just the way Garrett likes it. “It’s that,” she says, looking toward her parents. “Seeing them together. I used to have these fairytales in my head that Mom magically would come back, and her and Dad would get back together.”

  “You think they . . .”

  She shrugs. “I have to wonder why Dad never really dated anyone serious. Maybe he still loves her. I mean, look at them,” she says. “They’re like, perfect together.”

  I know what she means. They look like the classic American couple—the delicate blonde woman with the tall, dark, and handsome man. Still, it’s a pipe dream—the dream of a child. The dream of any child whose parents have split up. I know that. A part of me wonders if I wasn’t in the picture, perhaps Garrett and Sheena would find their way back into each other’s arms. That’s certainly what Mia wants.