by Megan Green
“Daddy?” Hannah’s voice says sleepily behind me. “What are you doing?”
I spin, finding her rubbing an eye with one hand as she hugs one of her teddy bears to her chest with the other. I go to her, dropping to my knees to put myself on her level.
“Just a bad dream, Nana. Everything is okay,” I say even though I feel like it’s anything but. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Her eyes clear a little at the sound of my voice. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her own panic developing in her voice.
Fuck. Pull your shit together, Cooper. You’re scaring her.
I pull her into my arms and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Everything is fine, sweetie. I promise. Come on; let’s get you back to bed.”
I stand, trying to stay steady on my feet, even as sadness courses through my veins.
She’s gone. Once again, I’ve lost a woman I care for. I need to go to her. I need to make this right.
And then the other side—the angry side—chimes in, How could she do this to me? After everything we’ve shared. After I let her into my life. Into my daughter’s life.
The two sides are at war within my head as my hand comes down on Hannah’s shoulder.
“Come on, Nana,” I say on autopilot, nudging her down the hall.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to a folded sheet of paper sitting on the coffee table.
Well, at least it’s not the middle of the sofa. It’s not exactly the same as the night Steph left.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Now, go,” I say, pushing her toward her room.
She spins and ducks out of my hold, darting around me to grab the note. I rush to her, taking it from her hands before she can even attempt to look at it. She might not be able to read much of it, but I don’t want her to even have a hint of what it might say.
“Is it a letter, Daddy? Who’s it from?”
Now that it’s in my hands, I can’t resist the pull. Hopefully, Maddy at least had the decency to explain herself more than Steph had.
With a deep breath, I flip open the note, already trying to erect a wall around my heart so as to avoid crumpling to the floor when I read its contents.
Mason,
Got called in for an emergency. Didn’t want to wake you or Hannah, so I’m leaving this note instead. I’ll stop by in the morning with breakfast if I can.
I love you.
Maddy
The dread that filled me lifts in an instant, an elated laugh bubbling up from my chest.
She didn’t leave me.
I feel a tear of relief squeeze from my eye, sliding a path down my cheek before disappearing into my beard.
Hannah yanks on the back of my shirt. “What is it, Daddy?” she asks, her voice more insistent, her concern evident in her tone.
I drop the note down to my side, a wide smile spreading across my face. “It’s a note from Maddy. She’s going to bring breakfast in the morning.”
Hannah’s eyes light up. “Chocolate chip pancakes?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know, Nana. Maybe.”
“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be yummy,” she says, turning and heading toward her room.
I watch as she disappears beyond her door. “I’m sure it will be, sweetie. I’m sure it will be.”
I float back to my room, exhaustion overtaking me as I realize I worked myself into a frenzy for nothing.
Maddy isn’t Stephanie. I have to stop letting my experiences of the past affect my future.
But as my head hits the pillow, I can’t help the brief flit of worry that flows through me.
Why did I wake in such a panic? Why did that old instinct of mine kick in the instant I opened my eyes?
Thankfully, the thought is gone as quickly as it appeared, and I peacefully drift off to sleep.
16
Maddy
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Mason asks me for the billionth time in the last thirty minutes, worry etched into his every feature. “I understand if you don’t want me to go.”
When Mason told me last month that he was thinking of signing up to be a volunteer firefighter, I nearly tackled him to the floor in my excitement. When he told me that doing so meant having to go to an overnight training camp, I immediately volunteered to stay with Hannah.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I worried that maybe I’d overstepped my bounds. We’d been dating for almost two months at that point, and things were going extraordinarily well. But there was a big difference between spending the evenings with him and his daughter and staying overnight with her alone.
But Mason only smiled and told me he loved me for being so supportive, and the next day, he went down to the station and enrolled in the program.
Now, the day has finally arrived, and even though I am slightly nervous about being alone with a five-year-old for over twenty-four hours, I couldn’t be more excited for him.
The way his eyes sparkled as he told me about the program was intoxicating. The excitement in his voice as he explained the details was contagious. There is no doubt in my mind that Mason Cooper was born to be one thing.
A firefighter.
He’s put his life on hold long enough to raise his daughter. Hannah is starting kindergarten in the fall, and though it’ll still be a while before she doesn’t rely on him completely, her going to school will at least give him a little more free time. A little more time to pursue his passion instead of spending day in and day out behind a desk. He’ll never admit it, but I am pretty sure the bank job is slowly killing him.
Besides, he doesn’t have to do everything on his own anymore. I have no problems with picking Hannah up after school or taking her for a few hours—or even an overnighter—if it means he can do something that makes him happy.
Things between us have been great since the night Mason first told me he loved me. We are probably moving faster than most couples, but at the same time, it feels like we’ve been together forever. Now, three months into our relationship, I know without a doubt there is nobody I’d rather spend my life with. And though we aren’t talking about marriage yet, I know that, eventually, that is what I want with Mason.
It took me years to even feel comfortable talking to Jesse about marriage, and here I am, already daydreaming about my wedding day to Mason.
I push up on my toes and press a kiss to Mason’s lips. “We’ll be fine. Besides, Hannah and I are overdue for a little girl time.”
Hannah giggles from beside me. “Yeah, Daddy. Maddy and I are gonna watch Frozen, and then she promised to paint my fingernails and my toes,” she says, giving him a proud grin.
I finally succeeded in cracking Hannah’s habit of calling me Dr. Maddy a few weeks ago, a small victory in and of itself. There had been a time when I thought she’d call me that until she left for college, but ultimately, I prevailed.
And then I was delighted at the thought of being around when Hannah went to college.
Mason leans down and smacks a kiss to Hannah’s cheek. “Now, don’t you go taking advantage of Maddy just because she’s the new guy in town. You be good, you hear me?”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”
“And you,” he says, turning and pointing a finger at me.
I hold a hand to my chest, looking around as if there’s anybody else he might be talking to.
“Yes, you,” he says when he reaches me, circling his arms around my waist. “You don’t go giving in to her every whim. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I mimic Hannah, giving him a wry smile when his eyes flash. I reach behind me and unclasp his hands before stepping out of his embrace. “Not now,” I say quietly, reminding him that Hannah is still in the room.
Mason clears his throat and discreetly adjusts himself before turning and hoisting his overnight bag up onto his shoulder. “All right, you two, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
He gives Hannah a quick hug before turning and pulling me to him. He presses hi
s lips hard against mine, and I lose myself in his kiss.
“Eww,” Hannah groans from behind us.
I pull back, my cheeks flushed. Mason gives me an amused smirk.
“Okay, Daddy’s on his way,” he says, throwing me a devilish wink.
I drop my face to my hands. What in the hell have I started?
Hannah and I watch from the window as he climbs into his car and pulls away.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I turn to her with a clap. “What should we do first?”
I severely underestimated the stamina of a five-year-old.
Eight hours later, we’ve watched Frozen four times—seriously, if I hear that damn snowman song one more time, I might ram a knife into each of my ears—we’ve painted all available nails, including Hope’s, and we’ve had a tea party and made lunch. We are now in the middle of a batch of cookies.
I’m beat, my back aching as I bend to slide the cookie sheet into the oven. But Hannah … well, Hannah shows no signs of slowing down.
Aren’t kids supposed to take naps or something?
Hannah hums happily behind me, rolling the rest of the cookie dough into little balls for the next batch. She’s been sneaking little bites of the dough when she thinks I’m not looking, which doesn’t help with her energy level, but she looks so cute as she hurries them into her mouth, her little eyes shooting up to the ceiling afterward, trying to portray her innocence, and I haven’t been able to force myself to stop her.
It’s my own fault if she’s up bouncing off the walls at two in the morning.
I hear the credits start up from the living room, and I take the opportunity to try and suggest another movie. “Hey, Hannah, what do you say we go relax on the couch while those cookies bake? I can introduce you to one of my favorite movies when I was your age.”
Hannah gives me a skeptical look, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regards me. “What is it?” she asks.
Her obvious distrust of my taste in movies makes me laugh.
I hold out my hand for her. “Come on. I promise you’ll like it.”
She hops down from her chair, wiping her hands on a dish towel before placing one in mine. I found a recipe for eggless cookie dough mix so that I wouldn’t have to worry about the germs making Hannah sick. The last thing I wanted was for Mason to return to find his daughter puking her guts out.
Hannah jumps onto the couch as I grab the remote, exiting out of the end of Frozen and pulling up the menu on Disney+. I don’t know whose idea this streaming service was, but whoever it is, they’re a genius. Coming from an old-school Disney freak, I think it’s a dream come true.
Hope settles herself at our feet as I scroll through the old classics before finally landing on the one I want. The music starts, and Hannah starts to bounce excitedly beside me.
“Ohh, I love The Little Mermaid!” she exclaims. “Ariel is my favorite!”
I laugh. “I thought Elsa was your favorite.”
Hannah nods. “She is. Ariel is my other favorite. From back when I was little.”
The way she says this makes me giggle, as if now that she’s five, she’s all grown up. “Oh. Well, she was my favorite when I was little, too.”
“Did you know I had a mermaid party for my birthday once?” she asks, coming up on her knees and turning to face me.
“I didn’t. That sounds like a lot of fun though.”
She nods emphatically. “It was. Ariel didn’t come like Elsa did. Daddy said she couldn’t walk on land ’cause she didn’t have her human legs that day. But all my friends came over, and Daddy filled up a swimming pool. We all got mermaid fins, and we swam around for forever.”
“I would’ve liked to see what you looked like as a mermaid,” I say, unable to stop myself from grinning back at this adorable child.
Exhausting as she might be, she sure makes it fun.
“Oh! Hold on!” she shouts, springing from the sofa and tearing across the room to the entertainment center.
She flings open one of the cabinets on the front, her head disappearing inside as she roots around for whatever it is she’s looking for.
A squeal sounds from inside the cabinet a few seconds later, and Hannah leaps up, a photo album held high above her head. “I have pictures!”
I bark out a laugh as she races back to me, flinging herself onto the cushions and flopping around until she’s seated. She opens the photo album, quickly flipping through it until she finds what she seeks.
“See! I was a mermaid for a whole day!”
“Wow,” I say, feigning shock at the sight of Hannah with plastic fins on her feet. She can’t be any more than three, and her dripping hair and flushed cheeks only add to her toddler charm. “You look just like Ariel!”
Hannah’s nose scrunches up as she looks down at the photo. “Nuh-uh. Ariel has red hair.”
I laugh. “Oh, you’re right. Well, you look like one of Ariel’s pretty sisters then.”
She beams up at me before turning her face back to the photo album. She flips through it, explaining various pictures to me from the days she remembers. Every page is packed full of photos of her, Mason making appearances here and there, his friends and family showing up every once in a while. But for the most part, it’s all Hannah.
My heart skips a beat at yet another reminder of what a wonderful father Mason is. You can feel the love he has for his daughter radiating from every square inch of this photo album.
She gets to the end, flipping the last page before moving to close the book. I see a flash of a white envelope just before it snaps shut, and I slide my hand in to stop it.
I grab the envelope and pull it out. “What’s this?”
Hannah shrugs but climbs back up onto her knees to peer at it with me. She hunches over my shoulder, staring at my fingers as they toy with the open flap of the envelope.
“Open it, Maddy,” she urges, her voice impatient and excited.
I laugh as I lift the flap and slide my hand inside, the feel of a glossy photograph meeting my fingers.
I pull it out, flipping it over as I do. My eyes fall on a woman in a white dress, a long veil trailing out behind her, a bouquet of red and white flowers held at her waist.
“Oh,” Hannah drawls, falling back against the sofa and refocusing on the TV. “That’s just my mom.”
I can barely hear the words as she speaks them, however, my pulse thumping in my ears as my mouth runs dry. Because the woman in the picture … this isn’t the first time I’ve seen her.
Stephanie Harris beams up at me from her bridal portrait, looking every bit as perfect as I remember her.
And every bit as bitchy.
Even in a ten-year-old photo, I can feel the superiority radiating off her. The smug smile on her pretty face. The slight flare of her nostrils as she looks at whoever it is behind the camera, her irritation with them evident even through her smile. The arrogant look in her eyes, as if she knows she’s the most beautiful bride the world has ever seen.
Mason was married to Stephanie Harris?
The photo slips from my fingers, floating down to my lap as a million thoughts run through my head.
Mason couldn’t have married Stephanie Harris.
He would’ve told me.
How could he keep something like this from me?
How could he have married her?
I’m still having trouble wrapping my brain around the new information I’ve just learned when Hannah laughs beside me, and I lift my gaze to see Scuttle twisting a fork around his hair.
“Hannah,” I say, pulling her attention away from the TV, “are you sure this is your mother?”
I have no idea why else Mason would have a picture of Stephanie in a wedding dress, but right now, I’d be willing to accept just about anything other than the fact that he was married to her.
Hannah briefly glances at the picture before turning back to the movie. “Yep.”
“Have you seen this picture before?”
She lets out a fru
strated breath, as if she doesn’t appreciate me asking all these questions while she’s trying to watch Ariel and Flounder swim home for the concert. But she finally turns and looks at me. “Yes. My daddy showed it to me one day when I wanted to know what my mom looked like.”
“And he said this was your mom? That she’s who he was married to?”
Hannah shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye, like she’s worried I’ve lost my damn mind. And who knows? Maybe I have. I certainly don’t feel like my brain is functioning at normal capacity.
“Yeah,” she says, continuing to give me a wary look. “Are you okay, Maddy?”
I pick up the photo and slide it back into the envelope. “Yeah, sorry.” I’m trying to think of something else to say, anything I can do to explain away my weird behavior, when the buzzer on the oven goes off.
“Cookies!” Hannah shouts, and she flies from the couch, Hope trailing along behind her toward the kitchen, all thoughts of my near–mental breakdown now completely forgotten.
Well, that was easier than I thought, I think as I get to my feet, hustling after Hannah before she accidentally burns herself on the oven.
Now, if only things with Mason go that smoothly.
Turned out, I hadn’t needed to worry about Hannah keeping me up all night on a sugar rush.
I managed that perfectly fine all on my own, my thoughts churning at a million miles an hour as I tried to decide how to broach the subject of Mason’s previous marriage with him.
I went over and over it in my head, trying to rationalize why he’d kept this from me. I came to the conclusion that he thought he was doing me a favor, trying to protect me somehow. But finding out this way … it hurt far worse than if he’d just told me himself.
I glance at the clock as Hannah sits on the floor in front of the coffee table, Hope at her side as she colors. Mason should be getting home any minute now, and I still don’t know what I’m going to say.