Dallas ruffles his hand through her static-filled ponytail. “Sure did.”
“A princess bounce house?” I say with high enthusiasm. “I can’t say no to that.”
Maven bounces in her seat. “Yay! I’m so excited!”
We finish our dessert, and Dallas leaves the table to pay the bill.
“Do you have any kids?” Maven asks as soon as he’s out of earshot.
I nearly spit my water in her face and cough a few times before managing to swallow it down. It takes me a second to get over the shock and tilt my lips into a smile.
“I don’t,” I croak out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dallas
Fuck, it’s been a day.
After I dropped Willow off, I helped Maven unpack her bags. We went through all of her painted pictures, letters, and worksheets she’d created. There were several she had drawn with her family doing activities she enjoyed. I flipped through them with a smile, and my heart crashed into my chest when I got near the bottom of the stack.
She and I are standing together, holding hands, and a blonde angel is flying above us. Lucy is flying over us.
The next one was a picture of us with Willow.
My daughter is confused.
Willow is confused.
Shit, I’m confused as a motherfucker.
Cindy’s comments when I picked up Maven didn’t help. Dinner went well until I went to pay the check. After that, Willow froze me out.
I can’t wait to collapse on the couch and go over all the shit I need to fix. I need to clear up the Cindy situation with Willow before shit falls apart.
My day gets even more complicated when I finish Maven’s favorite bedtime story and tuck her in.
“Willow is nice,” she says. “I’m glad she’s coming to my birthday party.”
I kiss her forehead. “Me, too, honey.”
“And she’s really pretty.”
I nod, hoping I can make it out of the room before she starts her favorite game of a million questions.
“Is she your girlfriend, Daddy?”
She never fails to catch on to something.
I shake my head and fake a laugh. “Now, that’s a silly question.”
She frowns. “It’s not a silly question.”
“Your daddy can’t have a girlfriend.”
I need to tread lightly here. I can’t get her involved in something that could break her heart. I’m already growing attached to Willow, constantly thinking about her. But can I throw my daughter into the mix? I’m more worried about her heart getting broken than my own.
“Why not? Mommy told me, when she was gone, you’d someday get a new girlfriend who’d be a good mommy to me. Willow would be a good mommy, don’t you think so?” She sighs. “Maybe I’ll ask her.”
Oh, fuck. Holy fuck. This is heading into territory I’m not ready for. Territory Willow isn’t ready for.
I squeeze her sides over the blanket. “Honey, Willow is just Daddy’s friend.”
“And my friend,” she corrects.
“And your friend.”
“She rubs her belly a lot. Marci’s mommy did that all the time when she had a baby in there. Does Willow have a baby in there?”
And shit just got even more complicated.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Willow
“You’re overthinking this,” Stella says on the phone. “You can’t seriously believe Dallas is messing around with some other chick named fucking Cindy. I’ve never heard of a Cindy, which means she doesn’t get thought of around here.”
I thought the night at the hotel was a crazy one.
That’s nothing compared to today.
I spent a morning with Dallas. We hung out with his daughter. A woman told me he’d been hanging out with her. Maven asked me if I had kids, and I somewhat lied to her. I don’t have kids … yet.
“She said he’s been eating her food. Fried chicken, to be exact,” I argue.
“And?”
“And?” I shout. Why does she not agree that this is a problem?
“Does eating her food mean eating her vagina or something? Is fried chicken a code phrase I don’t know about?”
I slump down on the couch and groan. “I don’t know. I just …” Just don’t want him falling for another woman. I’d better start whipping up some food Betty Crocker–style to compete with this chick’s fried chicken. Time to call KFC for their secret recipe.
“Trust me, you’re the only woman I’ve seen Dallas hanging out with. Shit, even talking to.”
“You not seeing it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. You don’t see me witnessing you screwing Hudson, but I know you guys are.”
“Holy shit,” she bursts out.
“Holy shit what?”
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you? This isn’t about your hook-up the other night or about you wanting to get along for the baby. You’re into him.”
“What?” I yell. “No! Absolutely not!” I’m getting good at this whole lying/denying-my-feelings thing.
“Oh, come on. It’s obvious. You’ve been hanging out, having dinner, giving each other oral before having sex, and picking up his daughter from camp. All that is falling-for-each-other stuff.”
“It’s not obvious.” I take a deep breath to change the tone of my voice to sound more self-contained. “Don’t take me making sure my baby daddy isn’t a psychopath for me falling for him.”
She sighs dramatically. “You owe me a hundred bucks when you two become official. I can take it out of your paycheck. I’ll ask Hudson if anything is going on with Dallas and fried-chicken chick.”
I snort. “Like he’d tell you. Dallas is his brother. Bro code.”
“I can be very persuasive with my man. Trust me.”
I stretch my legs out and measure my stomach—something I’ve been doing every night to track my progress. “I’m beginning to second-guess my decision of forcing the two of you to get back together. All this lovey-dovey crap makes me sick.”
She laughs. “It’s the morning sickness making you sick. I can’t wait until you and Dallas admit you’re in love, and I can throw all of this back in your face. I’ll be the one rolling my eyes at your lovey-dovey shit.”
“Whatever. Dallas is in love with his wife, who passed away.” I’m acting like a brat, feeling sorry for myself, but this is where I start to push him away again. My heart is ready to go back into solitude. You can’t have your heart broken if you don’t give it out. “He’ll always be in love with her, and I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon.”
She expels a long breath. “People move on. He can still love her and you.”
“People can move on, yes, but a man in love as deep as Dallas was? No.” A call beeps through, and I pull my phone away to check the caller ID before she keeps up with her argument. “Let me call you back. I have a call coming through.”
“Is that call from Dallas?”
“Good night, best friend.”
She’s laughing when I end the call to answer his.
“Hello?” I throw my hand over my mouth, regretting taking the call. I haven’t prepared myself for this conversation yet. I have to get myself together.
“Hypothetical situation,” he breathes out, sounding stressed. “What would you say if I told you Maven knew you were pregnant?”
I don’t even have time to think about what I would say before I screech out my reply, “I’d say you were out of your mind, and there was no way she’d know unless someone—say, her father—told her.”
“Another hypothetical situation. What would you say if I told you Maven knew we were having twins?”
“What?” I shriek. Him and his big mouth. “You’ve lost your mind!”
He groans. “I couldn’t help it! My six-year-old is apparently the damn baby whisperer. She asked me if you were pregnant because you rubbed your belly like fucking Marci’s mom.”
“Marci’s mom? Who’s that?”
“A
nother pregnant woman, I’m assuming.”
“Let me get this straight. She asked if I was pregnant because I rubbed my stomach like another pregnant chick?”
“Correct.”
“And you felt it was important to confirm it?”
“Correct again.”
“Are you nuts?” I scream.
“I didn’t know what to do. I can’t lie to my daughter.”
The hell he can’t. I’ll be lying to my children all the time about stuff they have no business knowing yet.
“Oh, really? So, you’ve told her Santa Claus isn’t real and the Easter Bunny is you?”
He chuckles but tries to keep his voice serious. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, you could’ve maybe, I don’t know, changed the conversation to fucking Barbie dolls or something? Asked her to have a tea party? Talked about anything but my uterus.”
“We can’t have tea parties before bedtime,” he explains.
“That fake caffeine is bad for children and their stuffed dogs after the streetlights come on, huh?”
“Smart-ass,” he mutters. “I don’t see why you’re pissed. You should be thanking me. This saves you from having to be there when I planned on telling her.”
“At least one good thing to come out of this.” My heart stammers, and confusion flickers through me. Why am I upset that I wasn’t there? Why am I sad I didn’t get to see her reaction?
“You still pissed?” he asks a few seconds later.
“Not pissed. Shocked.”
“If it makes you feel better, I made her promise she wouldn’t tell anyone until I told her it was okay.”
“I’m not sure how much I trust a promise coming from a six-year-old.”
“It helps when you add an extra birthday gift as a hush bribe. Some parenting advice to a mommy-to-be–nothing works better than bribery with extra doll clothes.”
“Bribery is okay, but lying is off the table? Makes sense. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” While mine is going fucking crazy right now.
“Now that I know you’re not pissed, just shocked, I need to ask for a favor.”
Seriously? This co-parenting relationship with benefits is getting demanding.
“Haven’t you thrown enough at me tonight?”
“This one will be a fun one.”
“Shoot.” I cross my fingers that it doesn’t involve any more pregnancy announcements.
“Will you go shopping with me for Maven’s birthday present? Lauren planned on going with me, but she’s been pulling double shifts to save up for a house. I don’t want to put more stress on her.”
“Maybe you should ask Cindy. You can go shopping, and then she’ll feed you some fried chicken casserole.” I’m acting petty, but this is how I bring up my problems. I use my sarcasm to tell people how I feel.
“What?”
“The smiley chick who came over when we picked Maven up.” Is clarification needed? “The one who thought her fried chicken was the best thing since sliced bread.”
“Wow,” he says with a laugh.
“What?”.
“Surely, you don’t believe I’m hanging out with her?”
“No,” I stutter out. “I mean, I don’t know.”
He sounds like he’s enjoying this now. “Would you be upset if I were?”
“Nope. Not at all. Eat her fried chicken. Get heart disease. It’s all good.”
“Willow,” he draws out in warning, “would you be upset if I were?”
“Would I upset? Nope. Pissed? Yes. Will I have sex with you again if you are? Definitely not.”
“I’m not hanging out with her, I swear. She came around and dropped off food when Lucy passed but hasn’t been around in months. Even then, it was nothing. I accepted the food, so my daughter wouldn’t starve until I got my shit together. When I managed to perfect grilled cheese, I put a stop to it.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“You’re the only woman I’m hanging out with. Hell, other than my sister and mother, you’re the only woman I even talk to. So, now that that’s done, when do you want me to pick you up for shopping?”
“We’re not going anywhere in town, are we?”
“No. I figured we could take a trip into the city. She asked for an American Girl doll?” He says it like he’s unsure if that’s the right name.
“Oh, I had one of those, growing up. Which one does she want?”
“Uh … one that looks like her? They have a store in the mall near the airport.”
“Another road trip, huh?”
“Seems to be our thing. My mom is taking Maven to her bake sale, and then they’re going shopping for her party decor on Saturday. That okay?”
“My Saturday looks open.” Like almost every day.
Stella is on break from filming and hasn’t been asking much of me, so getting out of my apartment sounds refreshing.
“Then, it’s a date.”
I grin. “It’s a date.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dallas
“Do you remember the doll I want, Daddy?” Maven asks for the umpteenth time.
I tap my finger on the side of my head. “Sure do.” I have it written in my phone notes. I pulled up the doll website last night, and there’s a shit-ton of options. I pause and cock my head to the side. “And you don’t even know if you’re getting a doll.”
Yes, she does.
She bounces from foot to foot. “I really, really, really hope so.” She skips up the steps to my parents’ porch to meet my mom standing outside. “Grammy, don’t I need an American Girl doll?”
My mom draws her into her side. “Of course you do, sweetie.”
Maven wags her finger my way with a smile on her lips. “You have to listen to your parents, just like you tell me.”
“Oh, honey, your daddy was not a good listener when he was your age,” my mom replies with a laugh. She squeezes Maven’s shoulders. “Now, go wash up for lunch, and we’ll go to the bake sale and then shopping for your party decorations.”
“Yay! Princess Jasmine all the way!” she shrieks. She pulls the door open and disappears into the house.
“Thank you for watching her, Ma,” I say.
She nods. “Anytime. You going to the city to get the doll?”
I scrape my boot against the steps. “It’s what she wants.”
She can’t contain her loving smile “And her daddy always gets her what she wants.”
“It’s the least I can do. She lost her mother. She deserves the world.”
Her smile drops. “You’re getting her a doll in the hopes that she won’t be sad every day?”
I grew up with parents who refused to sweep shit under the rug. If there was a problem, we talked about it. If they wanted to know something, they asked and expected honest answers. I grew up, facing my challenges, but this isn’t a problem easily fixed. No amount of parenting or life lessons could’ve prepped me for losing Lucy.
“That’s not the ultimate reason, but it has something to do with it,” I answer. “I want her to heal and enjoy her childhood. If that means spoiling her right now, then that’s what I’ll do. Whatever my daughter needs to put a smile on her face, I’m willing to do it.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I hate seeing my mother upset. I take the few steps up to wrap her in my arms. She sniffles for a second before she continues her impending lecture.
“It’d help her much more if her father started working on the healing process as well,” she says when she slips out of my arms.
I clear my throat to bring out my kindest warning voice. “Ma …”
She wipes her eyes and then places her hand on my shoulder. “Dallas, honey, I loved Lucy. We all did. We all miss her, but she’s gone.”
“She was my wife.” I’m using all my power not to get pissed with her. “You’d be lost without Dad.”
“I would. The difference between you and me is, I’m in my sixties. I have thirty years on you, son. A wh
ole life is waiting for you. Happiness is out there, but you’re never going to find it if you’re blocking it out. Find someone for Maven. Find someone for you.”
My mother is the best person I know. She’s beautiful. Selfless. Caring. There will never be another woman with a heart as kind and nurturing as hers. She raised us to be strong, fearless, and independent.
Her age doesn’t show, and Lauren is the spitting image of her. They’re both short and have long brown hair. Lauren keeps hers down most of the time while my mom’s stays in a bun. They also have a personality with enough spark to light up a city. Mom doesn’t make it easy to get upset with her.
“Can we talk about this another time?” I ask.
“Of course.” A smile plays on her lips. “Are you going shopping by yourself?”
I shake my head. “Willow is coming with me.”
“Stella’s assistant?”
I nod, and her lips form a sly smile.
“Word on the street is, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time together. Beautiful girl, I must say. The few times I met her, she was such a sweetheart.”
“I see the Blue Beech gossip is still alive and kicking,” I mutter.
“You go have fun, honey. If it gets too late, stay there, and have a nice dinner. I’ve already told Maven she could spend the night, so we have plans.”
“You spoil her too much.”
“That makes two of us.” She pulls me in for another hug. “Now, I’m ready for some more grandchildren. I don’t know why my children are taking so long to give them to me.”
Oh, shit.
She’s about to be surprised.
The American Girl store is packed with moms and daughters, and I have no idea where to make my first move.
Willow cracks up before grabbing my hand. “Come on. I’ll try to lead the way the best I can. It’s been about two decades since I had one of these dolls, but surely, not that much has changed.”
We don’t lose our connection and dodge people while migrating through the loud crowd.
“We’re looking for one that resembles her!” I yell over the noise, as if it were normal to be hunting for the incarnation of your child.
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