Willow wasn’t having the same kind of birthday and I was just sick about it, wanting her to enjoy herself.
“Have you ever popped a balloon on purpose?” Willow asked. “I love doing that.”
“If you want to pop one, go for it.” I would let her do whatever she wanted, frankly. “It does make a satisfying sound, doesn’t it?”
Looking mischievous, she tugged on a string and brought a balloon down to chest level. She squeezed it. “How should I do this?”
“Bite it,” Poppy said.
“That sounds painful,” I said.
“Should I sit on it?” Then she put it under her armpit. “Wait. How about this?” She tried to slam her arm against her side, but the balloon just shot out, still intact. She laughed.
“Push it together.” Poppy demonstrated.
Willow did, with her eyes closed. We all jumped when the balloon finally gave and popped. She laughed. “Pops, your turn.”
Poppy pulled a balloon down and went with her original theory. She tried to bite it. It just slid and made a squeaking sound.
“If that pops your lip is going to hurt,” I told her.
“I don’t care.” She chewed at it again.
“You’re weird,” Willow told her.
“So are you.”
“Everyone is weird,” I said.
The balloon suddenly popped and Poppy started laughing. “Ow.” She held her lip and her nose.
“Your turn, Dakota,” Willow said. “Maybe you can kick it or something.”
“Oh, I have something.” I grabbed a balloon. “This is a party trick of mine.”
Brandon came into the kitchen. “A party trick? Are you going to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?”
He looked like he wouldn’t mind seeing that. “No. This is better.” I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I would have preferred a little stretchier fabric than denim but it would have to do.
Then I gripped the balloon in both hands to hold it steady and did the splits. I timed it so I landed on the balloon at the moment when I reached the floor. The balloon popped from the weight of my body. Only I misjudged slightly and basically popped it with my vagina instead of my thigh.
The girls were laughing as I rolled onto the floor, in stinging agony.
“Ow. I’m with Poppy. Ow, ow, ow.” I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. “That used to go smoother at parties when I was younger.”
Brandon was eyeing me. “Maybe it went drunker at parties.”
“That’s possible.” I sat up and rubbed at my inner thighs. “I think I broke something.”
Brandon held his hand out for me. “Do you need ice?” He looked amused.
“No,” I said dryly. “I’ll recover. It’s your turn, by the way. Everyone popped a balloon. You’re up to bat.”
“Is that right? So this is a challenge?” But he did grab a balloon string and tug it down. “No filming this.”
“Wait a minute.” I turned to Willow. “Did you take a video of me doing that? No. Please tell me no.” Maybe it was a sign that I was maturing that the thought of that did embarrass me just slightly. Then I thought about it. Nah. I didn’t actually care.
“Yes, but it’s just for us.”
“Honestly, I don’t really care.” Then I turned to Brandon. “What’s your big plan here, tough guy?”
He didn’t answer. He just put the balloon under his armpit and dropped his arm hard. It popped with a spectacular sound. I clapped while the girls laughed.
“Dakota still wins,” Willow said. “It was the most acrobatic.”
“I can live with that,” Brandon said. “You ready to go, Willow?”
“Hold on, I want to show her something first.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found the video from Lil’ Sneak. “Watch this.”
Sneak appeared on the screen and said a few rambling things that may or may not have made sense. Then he said, “Happy thirteenth birthday, Willow. You’re going to kill this year, you hear what I’m saying? You got this, girl.”
Willow screamed at the top of her lungs. “That is so cool! Oh my God, I’m dead.”
“Jesus.” Brandon looked amused, but pleased for his daughter. “How did you manage that?” he asked me.
“Oh, he’s my ex-boyfriend. I just asked and he was happy to do it.”
I wasn’t trying to make Brandon jealous. I was trying to make Willow happy. I didn’t even think about my words until they were out of my mouth.
“I see.” Brandon sounded grumpy again. Insta-grump.
“You dated him?” Willow threw herself across the kitchen island. “I would die. Just die.”
“He’s a nice guy. A little out there. But we had fun.”
“Why did you break up?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It fizzled.”
Without saying a word to us, Brandon disappeared down the hallway. “Where is he going?” I asked.
Poppy had a balloon in her hand and was treating it like a punching bag. “Probably the bathroom.”
Willow didn’t look like she cared one way or the other. “Yeah, but don’t you wish it would have worked out? Don’t you wish you had a boyfriend?”
Generally, no. Specifically, in the case of Brandon, yes. “No. I take it you want a boyfriend?”
“OMG, yes. I would die to have a boyfriend. That would change everything. Don’t you hate being alone?”
Okay, this was taking a turn. I felt a “teachable moment” coming over me. I couldn’t let her think that the only path to happiness was a dude.
“No, of course not. There’s nothing wrong with being alone. I have a lot of friends and I’m happy with myself, you know what I mean? Sure, a lot of people want to be with a partner. I would be with someone if the right person came along. But I like myself enough to be alone instead of being with the wrong person. Some people are alone by choice. They’re the love of their own life and that’s cool, too.”
“I think my dad is like that. He’s alone by choice.” Willow peeled herself off the marble countertop.
Ouch. That kind of hurt to hear. “Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?”
“Because he doesn’t date at all.”
Well. That was true, but maybe not the whole story. “Ever?” I asked, curious. I had never thought to wonder if he had dated in the past after his divorce.
“Nope. And even if he did, he doesn’t know how to accept love, you know what I mean?”
I thought I did, unfortunately. But I was a glutton for punishment and I asked, “No, what do you mean?”
But that seemed to be the extent of her thirteen-year-old insight. “I don’t know,” she said.
I did. Brandon still had a wall up in front of him. He put his responsibilities first—his daughters and his job. There was no openness to taking a chance, to falling in love. He had to control the situation and he couldn’t control falling in love. So he just refused to do it. I also thought he had no clue how to accept that someone might want to support him, take care of him, love him unconditionally. He’d clearly never had that.
One true love.
Sigh. I had told Teri and Eloise I wanted to be his and, help me, I did. From the minute I had met him, he’d made me feel safe, protected. Appreciated.
I wanted to appreciate him right back but I didn’t know how to do that if we were just going to spend every day pretending we were having sex and nothing more. At some point, in the not-so-distant future, it would be time for me to move out and on with my life, and that would be that.
We would be nothing.
It made my heart hurt.
“I don’t want Dad to date anyway,” Willow said. “Because then he really wouldn’t have any free time.”
That was not reassuring.
“I don’t want Dad to date either,” Poppy said. “And I don’t want anyone living with us.”
This was interesting, and none of it good. “Don’t you want your dad to be happy?” I asked.
“He’s t
otally fine,” Willow said. “I told you he doesn’t even want to date.”
I guess she wasn’t even really wrong about that. We weren’t dating. We were having secret sex.
“You just said some people want to be alone and I said that’s how Dad is. He’s happy,” Willow said.
She had me there. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I stand by the fact that some people prefer to be alone.” Honestly, I didn’t know what Brandon preferred.
“Lena said Dad probably goes to escorts,” Poppy said, now beating her balloon against the refrigerator.
I gasped. “Poppy! You shouldn’t listen to anything Lena said.” Escorts. What the hell? “Lena sounds like she enjoyed being outrageous. She should have never said something like that to you, especially about your father.”
Unfortunately, Brandon had walked back into the room, carrying his gym bag. He looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. “She said what?”
“That’s disgusting,” Willow said.
“Can we just all agree that Lena talked a lot of crap?” I said. “Just forget everything Lena ever said to you.” I had half a mind to find Lena and get an explanation. “Erase it from your mind.” I didn’t have the guts to ask if Poppy knew what an escort was. I didn’t want to hear the answer.
“I’m calling that agency Monday,” Brandon said. “They need to know. And for the record, I do not go to escorts. Never have, never will.”
I wasn’t sure he needed to make that proclamation. This little birthday breakfast had taken an odd turn. I wasn’t even sure how we had gotten there.
“Can I watch the video again?” Willow asked.
“Yes!” God, yes. Anything to get this back to normal. I handed her my phone and turned the volume up. Way up.
“Another girls’ night, huh?” Matt asked, shaking my hand as I let him into my apartment.
I was feeling lucky that the bye week had fallen on the same weekend as Willow’s birthday, meaning we didn’t have a game the next day. “Yep. I spent the day at the gym with Willow for her birthday, and we went to dinner, but then she wanted to do spa stuff tonight with Dakota and Poppy. I’m off the hook except for the bill. Which will probably give me a heart attack, to be honest. This is Manhattan.”
“Which is why I live in Jersey.” He glanced around. “I can’t believe you’re letting me see your apartment finally. I was starting to think you were lying about this place existing.”
“You want a drink? Then I’ll give you the five-dollar tour.” I hadn’t even really realized that I’d never invited anyone over to the apartment. It was hard to entertain as a single dad at any time, and nearly impossible during the season.
“Sure. Is Carson here?”
“No, not yet.” I went over to the area of the dining room where I kept the liquor in a locked cabinet. I’d started the habit of locking it when Willow started crawling and I’d kept up with it. Then with Bridget’s problems escalating, I’d stopped keeping alcohol in the house at all. Since my divorce, it was still a novelty to have a drink at night again. “I know Carson is young, but I appreciate that he gives me crap right back. He’s a good kid.”
“He’s hilarious,” Matt said. “For being that skinny he talks tough.”
The door buzzed. “That’s him. Fix yourself a drink.”
“You’re a garbage host. Just saying.”
I flipped him off and went to let Carson in. It was the first time I’d seen him in completely casual clothes. He was wearing joggers and a casual button-up shirt that looked straight out of the eighties.
“Wow, that’s a fashion statement, man.”
“What? It’s on trend. Just because you’re LL Bean until you die doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have fun with fashion.”
I pointed a finger at him. “That. Right there. Fun with fashion. No.”
Carson just grinned. “Fuck off.” He stepped in. “Hey, Matt, what’s up?”
“Just pregaming before we go out.” He lifted a glass into the air.
I poured myself a bourbon like Matt had. Carson went for a gin and toxic. Then I gave them a tour during which Matt harassed me for the finishes and features. “They came with the apartment,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “You’re just jealous.”
“Damn right I’m jealous. I have to mow a half of a fucking acre yard every week and constantly repaint rooms and here you are living like a bachelor in the city.”
I threw open Poppy’s bedroom door. “Does this look like a bachelor’s apartment?”
Her room was actually tidy, but filled with stuffies and her growing lab.
“What the hell is that kid doing, cooking meth?” Matt asked. “Jesus. Now I know how you pay for this apartment.”
“She likes to create chemical reactions. Don’t worry, I control her materials. Nothing toxic, illegal, or dangerous is happening here.
“And the new teenager’s room,” I said, opening Willow’s door. This room was classic teen girl. Clothes and fairy lights everywhere. Lots and lots of fuzzy throw pillows.
“This looks like my daughter’s room,” Matt said.
“This looks like my room,” Carson said.
That made me laugh. “I feel like you’re telling the truth.”
Matt had moved ahead and with the confidence of a decades-long friendship behind us, he was randomly opening the remaining doors. “Whose room is this, the nanny’s?”
“Yes.” I knew what he was seeing. A small room with very little personality. Dakota hadn’t decorated. The only evidence of her was her clothes in the closet.
“Hmm. Very clean.”
He wandered into the bathroom, and as we followed, Carson exclaiming over the floating mahogany vanity and the modern fixtures, Matt opened the door to my bedroom. He turned and gave me a look. “Are you for real right now, bro? Her room is connected to yours by a bathroom? That’s not even fair.”
“It wasn’t even my idea. It was Poppy’s. She had the small room and she wanted to switch. Talk about a stroke of luck.” I still felt triumphant about that.
“I hate you.”
“Don’t be like that.” I crossed my arms as I stepped into my bedroom, giving him a grin. “You know I’d love to have a marriage like you have with Shelly.” It was true.
Matt was being nosy as hell. He opened the nightstand drawer.
“What are you doing? Get out of my fucking drawers, dude.”
He held up condoms. “Safe sex. Good for you. And you know my thoughts on your future. Give the dice a roll with the nanny. Maybe it’s the real deal.”
“You know why. If it fails, it will devastate the girls. They can’t know.”
Carson pointed to a pair of Dakota’s shoes that were lying next to the bed. Shoes I hadn’t even noticed. “I feel like it’s one hundred percent possible the girls already know. I see at least four things in this room that indicate Dakota’s living in it.” He pointed. “Shoes.” He swiped something off the chest of drawers. “Hair tie.” He gestured to the bed. “A clear delineation between the two sets of pillows. A single man sleeps in the middle.” He picked up a water bottle and slapped it back down. “Water on the opposite side of the bed from your phone charger, which is clearly plugged into the wall over there. Floral hand lotion next to water bottle. That’s actually five items, I stand corrected.”
“Shut up, Sherlock Holmes. They don’t know.” I sipped my bourbon. I sounded more confident than I felt. I couldn’t guarantee they didn’t know. Or at least have an inkling we had feelings for each other. Carson’s theory wasn’t improbable. I hadn’t realized there was evidence of Dakota in my room. “Half that stuff can be explained away.”
“Try me.”
“The hair tie could belong to the girls. Water bottle and lotion I set there on my way walking from the bathroom. Pillows are because I like a nicely made bed. Boom.”
“Don’t say ‘boom.’ What about the shoes?”
“That one I don’t know.” Then again, even if they saw the shoes
, they thought I was too old for Dakota. “They think she’s too cool to date me.”
“Well, there is truth in that,” Carson said.
“This is a lot of fun. I’m glad I invited you fuckers over.” I finished my bourbon and pointed to the door. “Get out of my room and let’s go to the bar.”
“I want the hottest pink you have,” Willow said to the nail technician. “Please.”
“I want yellow,” Poppy said.
I was studying the nail color samples, flipping through all the options at the uptown salon Brandon had booked for this birthday outing for Willow. My nails were useless nubs, so I was getting a full acrylic set that might last a week if I was lucky. I was hard on nails when I did my workouts. My mood was red hot. I didn’t want fall colors like navy and olive. I wanted cherry red.
While I was perusing nail colors, I got a text from my agent. Willow and Poppy were talking so I looked at the text.
Got a job offer for you. On the road, six weeks, backup dancer.
My heart started to race. Finally. A job. A real job.
For who?
Sneak. Said he had someone bail and he thought of you.
That was amazing. I didn’t care that we had dated. It really didn’t mean anything at this point. I took a huge sip of the champagne the receptionist had given me. Willow and Poppy had sparkling wine. Reaching out to Sneak for Willow’s video had probably put me back into his thoughts and had landed me this job. That was ironic.
When?
Starts next week.
Oh, shit. Because nothing could ever be easy. How could I leave Brandon and the girls on such short notice? I glanced over at the girls giggling and chattering away. How could I leave them at all?
I loved Brandon.
Halftime Husband Page 17