Sweet on You

by Katana Collins

  She took the book from my hands and smacked me on the arm with it. “I know you do.”

  “How’s Penny feeling?”

  “Good. His paws seem almost entirely better. I dropped him off at Steve’s clinic so he could take a look at the stitches in Penny’s mouth while I ran these errands. I’m going to pick him up next.”

  She pointed to the corner of the room. “Okay, so I put diaper things over there. The toys are in the opposite corner.”

  “Don’t mix those up,” I said, pointing at my temple with a click of my tongue. “Got it.”

  Ronnie winked, but continued talking. “Food is in the pantry. The bottles and pacifiers should be washed first. And I’m going to move her folded clothes into the basket now that it’s empty.” Ronnie looked around my little apartment and nodded. “I think you’re good.”

  “I am now.” I slid my hands around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

  “Knock, knock,” a voice came from the doorway and I leapt back like a teenager caught making out under the bleachers.

  “Mrs. Murphy,” I said, my heart lurching into my throat. I sent Ronnie an apologetic glance. She merely smiled and squeezed my hand before letting it go.

  Her eyes shifted to Ronnie as Mr. Murphy followed in behind her, his arms filled with a diaper bag, a folded stroller, as well as several other things—I had no idea what they were.

  “Here,” I sprang into action, helping to take some of the items from his hands and set them down in the entryway. Then, once his hands were free, I offered him one of mine for a handshake. He still seemed guarded around me and eyed me carefully. Although this time, I had to admit, he seemed friendlier. Slightly. “Good to see you, sir.”

  He took my hand in a firm squeeze with one brisk pump. “You too, son.”

  Mrs. Murphy smiled, bouncing Olivia on her hip. Her eyes darted between me and Ronnie. “I’m so sorry. The door downstairs was open and we just came right up.”

  “Not a good idea to leave doors unlocked with a little one—”

  “That was my fault,” Ronnie jumped in. “I brought Lex over some of my niece’s hand-me-downs and left it unlocked when I was lugging stuff upstairs.”

  Mrs. Murphy nodded and turned to her husband with a smug glance.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “this is Ronnie, a, um, a friend. Ronnie this is Mr. and Mrs. Murphy. Olivia’s grandparents.”

  Ronnie smiled that charming, dimpled grin that I’ve been growing to love for the past two years and reached out a hand, taking each of their palms in hers. “It’s nice to meet you. Have you ever been to Maple Grove?”

  Mr. Murphy seemed to soften even more around Ronnie and he smiled back, lines creasing his face. “We haven’t. It’s charming though.”

  “I think so, too. I’ve been here my entire life.”

  Ronnie leaned over to Olivia, smiling. “You must be Olivia,” she said quietly with a little wave. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Olivia smiled shyly and dropped her face into her grandmother’s shoulder as Frost hopped up onto the counter to greet our new guests.

  “You have a cat?” Mr. Murphy asked, his voice back to being gruff.

  I nodded. “That’s Frost,” I said.

  Olivia immediately perked up, pointing at the cat. “Kitty!” she said. “Kitty, kitty, kitty!”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Murphy said. “What does the kitty say?”

  “Meow,” Olivia responded. To which Frost let out a real mewl that caused Olivia to squeal and clap her hands.

  “You should have informed us you had a cat,” Mr. Murphy said. “We don’t know if Olivia is allergic or not.”

  Mrs. Murphy rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. She’s been around cats before.”

  “Not for a sleepover,” he mumbled.

  “Oh, look!” Mrs. Murphy said, pointing to the car seat. “You bought one! We were wondering if we were going to need to take ours out of the backseat or not.”

  I slid Ronnie a look and a smile, and she winked in return.

  “Well,” Ronnie said, “I’m going to let you get settled.” She gave everyone one last smile and wave and let herself out.

  Mrs. Murphy followed Ronnie with her eyes as she left, shutting the door behind her, then turned to me and gave me a little smile. “She seems very… sweet.”

  I nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable for a reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “She’s just a friend.” Why did I say that? Ronnie was so clearly not just a friend. I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I said that. She’s more than just a friend. She’s my girlfriend. I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Murphy smiled for the first time since arriving and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re okay, son.”

  “This is strange for all of us,” Mrs. Murphy chimed in, then tilted her chin down. “You’re allowed to have a girlfriend. You’re Olivia’s father… not a babysitter.”

  They were two of the kindest parents I’d ever met. Even Mr. Murphy was stern, but fair and nice. They were so different from my own cold mother and father who sent us away to boarding school at age seven. Children were trophies for them. We were just things they were supposed to have because it was the natural order—but not because they actually wanted to care for us.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”

  Mrs. Murphy stepped forward and handed Olivia off into my arms. “You will,” she whispered and kissed Olivia on the cheek.

  My little girl looked up into my eyes and with a tiny hand, she touched my stubble. “Spikey!” she said, then laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh too, even though on the inside, I was turning to mush.

  “But,” Mr. Murphy interrupted, his tone back to being stern. “If you need help, call us. Don’t let your pride get in the way and cause you to make a bad choice like giving her eggs or something.”

  Mrs. Murphy snorted a laugh, covering her face with a hand. “He speaks from experience, you know. The first time I went out with a friend when Olivia was just a baby, he didn’t know that many babies have a sensitivity to eggs, and she’d never had them before. Poor girl broke out in hives.”

  He smirked, sliding a playful glare at his wife before winking at me. “Be ye not as stupid as me. Call if you need help. We promise only to judge you a little.” He pinched his fingers together as Mrs. Murphy slapped him in the arm.

  “Here’s a list of all things you might need to know. Her doctors, foods she likes, food she doesn’t, her nap times, favorite YouTube videos. It’s all in there.” She handed me a small notebook.

  “Does she sleep in her glasses?” I asked. I’d never had corrective lenses myself.

  Mrs. Murphy shook her head. “No. You’ll need to take them off after you read her a book for bed. She likes keeping them on as long as possible so she can see the pictures in the book.”

  I followed them to the door and open it. “Thank you so much for this.”

  “Thank you for finding us,” Mrs. Murphy said, then turned back to Olivia one more time. “You be a good girl for Daddy, yes?”

  My heart squeezed at that word and I blinked back the tears. I couldn’t cry right now. Not here in front of everyone, my daughter included.

  Olivia paused, seemingly confused and pointed at Mr. Murphy. “Pappap?”

  Mrs. Murphy leaned into me, whispering. “The social worker told us that this might take a while. She’s never had a daddy, so the word… the concept is new to her. She’ll get it, though.” Her voice was reassuring. But it was a practiced reassurance.

  Mr. Murphy took Olivia’s hand and gave it a kiss. “Not Pappap. Daddy,” he said, pointing at me. Her big, blue eyes shifted to mine, blinking from behind her glasses. “You’re staying here with your daddy today. We’ll be back in the morning.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip quivered.

  “This would be a good time to put on Elmo,” Mrs. Murphy said to me, indicating
with her chin to the TV.

  Olivia’s sadness immediately shifted to excitement. “Elmo!” she shouted and clapped.

  I nodded, rushed to the TV remote, searching YouTube for the first Elmo video I could find, and plopped her down on the rug in front of the TV.

  “There we go,” Mrs. Murphy whispered. “Good luck, Lex.”

  “Thank you. Have a good appointment. I hope your knee feels better.”

  “Me too!”

  With that, they were gone, quietly sneaking away while my one and only daughter had her eyes glued to a red puppet. And I was left simply wondering, Now what?

  25

  Lex

  Two hours. It had been two hours of constant crying, screaming and temper tantrums. Who knew such little vocal chords could pack such a punch? Maybe she was destined to be an opera singer? Or a sports commentator. But her shrill, piercing screams were rattling my brain and I didn’t know how to calm her down. We’d already watched every Elmo video available on YouTube as well as some other show called Paw Patrol. She’d had a bottle. A snack. I changed her diaper. We played with some of the toys her grandparents had brought with her.

  But nothing seemed to quiet her. Nothing seemed to soothe her insatiable screams.

  “Olivia, sweetheart. What do you want? Come on, use your words.”

  Shit. Did she even have words? I’d heard her say a few words here and there, but she wasn’t really forming sentences or anything.

  She pointed to the door. “Pappap. Nana.”

  I scooped her into my arms, bouncing her up and down, which only seemed to make her scream louder. Frost darted from the kitchen, running for the bedroom, no doubt hiding from the incessant noise.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I answered it without checking the caller ID. “Lex?” Ronnie’s voice from the other end was barely audible.

  “Ronnie,” I sighed. Thank God. A voice that was calm. Quiet.

  “I was going to ask how it was going, but I think I have my answer,” she said.

  “I don’t know how to make her stop crying,” I said. “I’ve tried everything.”

  “Do you want help? I’m just around the corner.”

  I sighed, my eyes drifting closed. Maybe it was naïve to think I could do this first sleepover totally alone. Maybe there was a reason so many people did this with two parents, not one. Of course, some of us had no choice. But still—I was in way over my head. “God, yes. Please.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She was right—she was coming from literally around the corner, and within a couple of minutes, she knocked at my door.

  At the sound of someone knocking, Olivia’s tears ceased. She perked up and looked to the door, pointing. “Pappap?”

  I froze still with my daughter in my arms. Shit. I knew it wasn’t her Pappap, but the second I said so, she’d scream again. So I chose not to answer her and as I opened the door, I smiled as large as I could, bouncing Olivia on my hip. “It’s Aunt Ronnie!” I said in the most excited voice I could muster.

  Olivia’s brows creased as she stared warily at Ronnie.

  “Hi, Olivia!” Ronnie said, grinning.

  She didn’t return the smile, but at least she wasn’t crying. Then her gaze shifted down to Ronnie’s feet where Penny was sitting patiently looking up at us.

  “Doggie!” Olivia cried out, pointing down. “Woof, woof!”

  Oh, thank God. No more crying. “That’s right,” I said. “That’s a dog. His name is Penny.”

  “Penny,” she repeated.

  “I brought you something,” Ronnie said and pulled a Tupperware container full of sugar cookies out from behind her back. She opened it, reached in, and held one out for Olivia, who immediately outstretched her hand to the cookie, her smile growing to a giggle.

  “Cookie!” she squealed.

  “Are you going to be a good girl and no more tears?”

  She shook her head. “No tears!”

  “Okay,” Ronnie said. “Let’s go sit on the couch and you can eat your cookie. Then maybe we can take Penny for a walk to the playground.”

  Another squeal and a peal of laughter echoed through the stairwell. I stared in awe at Ronnie, blinking as she passed by us, making her way upstairs.

  I leaned back, whispering, “Has Penny ever been around babies before?”

  “I asked Yvonne and she said he’s great with kids. But he might jump, so I’ll need to make sure he doesn’t knock her over.”

  I sighed in relief as we reached the top step. As soon as we were inside my apartment, Olivia wriggled out of my arms and Ronnie gave her the cookie, which she sucked, rather than chewed on.

  “How… how did you do that?” I asked. “I’ve literally been trying everything to get her to stop crying for an hour. I offered her a cookie—I offered her a dozen cookies to stop crying, and she didn’t care.”

  Ronnie shrugged and placed her hand between my shoulder blades, rubbing in circles. “I think having Penny here helped. Sometimes, it’s just about breaking up the pattern when they get into a tantrum state. Next time, try putting her in her playpen and letting her cry it out.”

  I jerked my head to Ronnie. “Isn’t that… I dunno… child abuse?”

  She covered her laugh with the back of her hand, giving me a sweet, yet rather placating smile. “Not if you’ve already made sure all her needs are met and she’s not hungry or thirsty, no dirty diaper, anything like that. Sometimes kids just have meltdowns and the best thing you can do is let them self-soothe.”

  I looked at where Olivia was sitting on the carpet, holding out a piece of her cookie to Penny who was licking her fingers carefully. Frost crept out from behind the TV, rubbing herself against Penny in a greeting, but careful not to get too close to Olivia, who held a piece of cookie out to her. It was almost as if Frost didn’t quite trust that the screaming was over yet, either. Penny on the other hand licked the piece of cookie out of Olivia’s hand without hesitation.

  Olivia’s laugh pealed as Penny’s tongue darted out and stole the cookie.

  “Kiss!” Olivia said, pointing to the hand Penny had licked.

  I rubbed at my forehead feeling suddenly overly exhausted and completely inadequate as a father. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered.

  Ronnie’s face dropped and she grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You can. Give yourself a little grace. Give Olivia a little grace. It’ll get easier.”

  Olivia’s blonde hair was falling out of its messy pigtails. and as she clumsily swiped the wisps away from her eyes, her fingertips smudged her glasses and a few cookie crumbs got stuck on her eyebrow. I smiled at the sight. The adorably messy sight. I grabbed a baby wipe from the basket Ronnie had dropped off earlier and wiped Olivia’s face and hands. “All done?”

  “All done!” she answered with a wave of her hands in the air.

  Ronnie eyed the stroller, then looked to Olivia. “Do you want to walk to the park or go in your stroller?”

  “Walk!” she shouted and pushed to her feet. She started marching in a circle around Frost, with Penny following at her heels, and repeated walk, walk, walk, walk over and over again.

  I eyed Ronnie. I mean, at this point, who was I to question her methods, but also it seemed risky to let the fifteen-month-old choose that. “Do you really think she’ll walk to and from the park without getting tired?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Probably not. But you want her to get tired, right?”

  Huh. Good point.

  “Besides,” Ronnie said, filling the diaper bag with a few snacks, some wipes, and extra diapers, “It’s only a few blocks away. We can switch off carrying her if she gets tired.”

  Heat zipped down my chest to my belly. This felt right. Doing this with Ronnie. She was a natural and even though I knew we were far, far away from having our own little family, just getting a glimpse of it was enough for me to realize that I wanted it. I wanted Ronnie. I wanted a family. And I wanted more kids—kids that I could be there for f
rom the start.

  I sighed, glancing again at Olivia. I’d missed fifteen months of her life. Which in the grand scheme of her life to come, wasn’t all that much. But still, it was time I’d never get back. And I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive Sarah for robbing me of that time.

  26

  Ronnie

  Olivia walked the whole way to the park, not once needing to be picked up or carried. Even though she resisted holding our hands at first. But as soon as I pointed out that even Penny needed to “hold my hand” (with his leash), she was happy to copy Penny.

  We reached the park and found an empty bench to tie Penny’s leash to. He was such a good dog 99% of the time, but we couldn’t risk him getting over-excited and snapping at any of the playing children. He quickly made himself comfortable, flopping onto the grass and gnawing on a giant stick, and Lex and I followed Olivia as she ran through the playground, laughing, squealing, and making new friends.

  “Wow,” Lex said, his eyes glued to his daughter who was stomping through the sandbox and sharing her shovel with a little boy. “She’s so extroverted here. She didn’t hesitate for a second to go down the slide.”

  “I mean, your girl’s got her priorities straight. Slides are top notch. Though I was always into the swings myself. Except, at her age, that’s a two-person job.”

  The little boy she was playing with yanked the shovel from her hands and started playing with it. “Did you see that?” Lex asked. “He stole her shovel. He just… stole it right out of her hands.”

  I placed my palm on Lex’s arm. “Easy. There’s another shovel right there in the sandbox.” I pointed at the pile of unused toys there beside her.

  “Yeah, but that was her shovel.” He paused and Olivia’s lip trembled as she reached to take the shovel back, but the boy jerked it away and moved to the other corner of the sandbox.