Dad Bod Page 11

“Don’t you think it might be better to just forget about it and move on?”

  “She could have hurt me.”

  “But she didn’t mean to. And I don’t want you to get hurt, but sometimes when friends are involved, we have to give them the benefit of the doubt. We have to let things go.”

  She bites her lip, and I can see her contemplating this.

  “Mila’s a nice girl. She’s not perfect, and neither are you—even though I like to think so.” I offer her a wink. “Everyone makes mistakes, isn’t that right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Maybe next time, instead of running to her mom, you can try and talk about it with Mila.”

  “What do I say?”

  I shrug. “Depends. You could’ve said something about the apples falling too close to you. I bet Mila would’ve apologized and stopped doing it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Think about it, honey, okay? I just think...friends are really nice to have. Mila’s trying to be yours, so why don’t you give it a go and try to be hers, too?” I raise my eyebrows, desperately wanting my daughter to find a connection, to find someone who makes her laugh, who listens, who brings out the fun in her—before she grows up into an adult and the responsibilities of the world crash onto her shoulders. “What do you think?”

  She pouts, but her eyes are bright. “I can try.”

  “That a girl.” I kiss her on the forehead. “What do you say we grab us a cider and wait for the other girls to come in?”

  “Actually...” Jess looks at her half-filled bag. “Maybe I can finish picking apples with Mila?”

  I try to play the cool dad, and not acknowledge the fact that my heart is pumping with happiness for her. “Sure, I think that’d be fine.”

  Jess runs off then, after wriggling free from my grasp, and I stay still for a long moment, watching as the blonde little girl and the brunette little girl have a tense standoff, and then both relax as they trot toward the nearest tree.

  “Cute, huh?” Margaret says. “Jessica is really a nice girl.”

  “So is Mila,” I say, masking my surprise of her arrival. “I hope they can figure out a way to get along.”

  “Me too,” Maggie agrees, and her words are so quiet I’m wondering if she’s not talking about something else, lost in her own thoughts. “That’d be nice.”

  I pat the bench next to me, but Maggie gives a wry smile. “We should probably get going. Their bags are going to burst, and I don’t want tears when they lose all their apples.”

  The subtle rejection stings, but once again, I try to play the part of the cool guy. Standing, I shift my bag higher on my arm and then reach over to relieve Margaret of her bag.

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” she says, her eyes subtly impressed as I hold two bags in one hand. “Isn’t that really heavy?”

  “Nope,” I say, and that’s the end of that.

  We stroll through the neat little rows of trees together, lazily following the pitter-patter of little girl footsteps. As the girls dart to a parallel row, I look over at Maggie, seeing her gorgeous hair streaming behind her, a look of contentment shining over her face. Only a slight ray of concern tugs her lips into a bit of a pout, and I ache inside, wishing I could erase all signs of worry.

  On an impulse, I reach for her hand and tug it to my side.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, more curious than annoyed.

  I take that to be a good sign, and I offer her my own happy smile. “Holding your hand.”

  She splutters a little bit, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hand is soft in mine, small, her fingers delicate little things that fit perfectly between my larger ones.

  Her brows furrow together as we continue to walk.

  “But...” she begins again, struggling for the right question. “Why?”

  “Because I want to.”

  “But...”

  “Do you have a problem with it?” I clasp her hand even tighter, not daring to look at her.

  “I just don’t understand.”

  “What’s there to understand? I’m holding your hand. You’re holding mine back.”

  “Couples hold hands.”

  “Friends hold hands,” I say, nodding ahead to where Mila and Jessica have grasped hands, as well. “I enjoy being close to you. You don’t seem to want to kiss in public, so I thought this might be a nice option.”

  “Hold on, Daniels. Who said anything about kissing in private?”

  “Well, we’ve already done that.”

  “Who said anything about repeating it?”

  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear, but I’m thinking about it.”

  “Do I get a say in this?” She raises our joined hands.

  “Of course,” I say, noting that her grip has become easier, more relaxed in mine. “But you haven’t pulled away. And, if you were truthful, I bet you’d admit to thinking about me naked, too.”

  Her silence all but confirms my theory.

  We stroll the rest of the way through the orchard in a strangely contented silence. I have to admit, I’d never thought handholding was a sexy thing. With Maggie, however, it’s so much more; her fingers tighten when she spots a perfect apple, and when she’s relaxed, her thumb moves unconsciously in soft little spirals over my skin.

  Eventually, I’m the one who has to let go—for my sanity. If she doesn’t stop with the little twirls and the squeezes of excitement, I’m going to be looking for the nearest hotel that comes with child care services and a playground.

  “What’s wrong?” Maggie asks when I pull away.

  Mila and Jess have claimed a picnic table and are currently counting their loot from the day. I step around the corner of the hut, pulling Maggie with me. The girls can’t see us well from here, but we can see them just fine through the open window.

  “Margaret.” My hands are on her waist, the bags of apples set on the ground as I pull her body against me. “How long are we going to fight this?”

  “I barely know you, Tyler. What do you want me to say?”

  “My name is Tyler Daniels. I’m from Harp’s Haven originally, but I moved to the city during college looking for adventure. I found it; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now, I’m back. I’ve regretted losing the most incredible woman in the world since the day I left.”

  “I can’t just forget everything.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to put it behind us and move forward so I can kiss you again.”

  “I don’t know you anymore.” Her eyelids flutter. She glances quickly toward the girls, finds them occupied, and then returns her gaze to mine. “What do you do? Why are you here? How long are you staying?”

  The real question, however, is scrawled across her face.

  Will you leave me again?

  That’s the truth she’s looking for. The answer I can’t give her because I don’t know it myself.

  I hiss out a breath. “I’ll make sure things don’t end the same way they did last time.”

  A steely look forms in her eyes at this. “You’re not ready to make any promises.”

  “How can I? What do you want me to say? That I plan to stay right here and marry you?”

  My voice breaks. Maggie quivers in my arms, blinking back what looks like tears.

  “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” I say gruffly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just—I want you so badly, and I don’t know what I can say that’ll make you believe me.”

  “I believe you want me, Tyler. I’ve always believed that,” she says. “I don’t believe you’re willing to do what it takes to have me.”

  “I wasn’t before. I am now.”

  She speaks in a flat, defeated tone. “You’re not convincing.”

  “What is it you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you!”

  “I wanted you to marry me last time! I was young and stupid and—”

  “So was I, and I wasn’t ready to be married.”

  “I probably wasn’t either, but
I wanted to be. I wanted you more than anything—no matter what, above all, that has always been clear to me. I was ready to grow up and learn what commitment means; you weren’t. Maybe you still aren’t.”

  “Has always been,” I repeat. “Do you still have feelings for me?”

  The silence is insurmountable between us. I’m convinced my heart has stopped beating.

  “I can’t let myself want that,” she says. “I’ve spent too long wishing for you to say these words, and it’s just...”

  “Too little, too late.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I get it.”

  My hands come off her hips, and I bend to retrieve the bags. Before I can, she stops me.

  “Wait.” She stands before me, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Tyler...”

  Her hands reach for me, tug me upward and lock me against her. She grasps for my face, my hair, and it takes me just a second to see the desperation in her eyes. The way she’s looking at me to prove her wrong. To prove that I need her as much as I know I do.

  If this is the challenge, it’ll be an easy one; after all, they say the truth always wins, right? It’ll take time, but I’ve got all the time in the world. My hands return to her hips and my gaze settles on hers—the only place in the world where it belongs.

  “I know your trust won’t come easy,” I tell her, my lips brushing lightly against hers. I harden at the sound of her moan. She doesn’t want to talk, she wants to feel—and I understand that. “Maggie, listen.”

  Maggie doesn’t want to listen. She collapses against the wall, pulling me with her. I’m powerless against her, and finally, I give in. My hands slide over her soft curves, and I savor the feel of her everywhere. I smooth her hair, down her back, cup the gentle curve of her bottom.

  I’m having a flashback from the laundromat, and it’s grinding at my self-restraint.

  This time around is different. Emotion drips from every nip, lick, and touch. Our tongues tangle. I pull every little gasp from her lips with a tenderness that’s come from years of regretting my choice to walk away. I need to have her more than ever—to give her all I have and lay myself empty at her feet.

  When we separate, there’s a vacuum between us, a senseless void that I long to fill with another embrace. Now is not the time, nor is it the place, but around Margaret, my logic seems to be a little dysfunctional.

  “Maggie.” I cup her cheek and look into those pretty brown eyes, so sweet and hopeful. “I don’t know what you want me to promise you.”

  “I don’t know, either. It’s not only your fault; you asked me to go with you.”

  “Selfishly. Because I wanted the best of both worlds.” I pause, knowing the painful truth of it. “You just wanted me.”

  She blinks, more furiously this time.

  “I won’t make the same mistakes I did last time,” I say, meaning every word of it. “I can’t promise you I won’t make other mistakes. But I am falling right back in love with you, Margaret Marshall, and I’m begging you to give us a chance.”

  Unable to speak, she nods, her hands resting on my chest. They’re so small there, so fragile. I wrap my hands around hers and hold them there.

  “I’ll think about it,” she says, finally making eye contact with me as she backs away. “I’m going to try.”

  Chapter 14

  TYLER

  If I’d thought shopping with one woman was difficult, I was wrong.

  Try shopping with three of them.

  I sit outside yet another endless fitting room, holding at least ten different bags of all shapes and sizes. Pink and purple, fluffy and bright, shiny and bold—no matter what style, the only thing these bags do for me is steal my man-card.

  It’s been difficult for me to focus on much of anything this shopping trip. After Maggie had disentangled herself at the apple orchard, we’d packed the girls into the car—trying desperately to keep the peaceful moments going between all parties—and headed to the mall.

  The shopping trip thus far has been a whirlwind of Maggie leading the girls from one store to the next and trying on everything from shoes to tiaras. I’ve mostly nodded along and prepared a few standard responses. You look beautiful worked well until Jess noticed I’d recycled it at three different stores and snapped at me for not paying attention.

  She isn’t wrong; my mind is occupied with the fleeting moments shared with Margaret at the apple orchard. What did that mean, she’d try? Had I hurt her so badly she couldn’t see the love I still have reserved solely for her? I’d laid my soul bare with the truth: I am falling fast and hard for Margaret Marshall. She might feel it’s too soon, but I can’t help it.

  When I’d stepped foot into Harp’s Haven, I’d wondered if I’d see her. If I’d find Margaret married with kids, a happy little household that would torment me for years to come. In the years following our breakup, I’d blocked her out of my life on purpose.

  I hadn’t kept tabs on her whereabouts, thinking it would make for a cleaner break on both ends. I’d hadn’t stepped foot back in town, and every time my mother tried to mention her over the phone, I’d shut the conversation down.

  It hadn’t worked for a second. Probably, the best situation would’ve been for me to find Margaret happily married. That way, I couldn’t hurt her any more. But when I’d found her as a single parent like me, everything crashed back like a tornado. The feelings I’d banned resurfaced, hurtling over me and dragging me under with a vengeance.

  I’d only realized the truth after seeing her: I have never stopped loving Margaret.

  “Dad?” Jessica’s voice held a warning note to it. “What do you think? If you say: you’re beautiful, honey, one more time, I’m going to be upset.”

  I surveyed Jessica, this time wearing a red dress. To me, it looked just like everything else she’d tried on. I struggled for a second, stammering with an appropriate response, but when I moved my glance to her face and saw the hope there, manifested in a bright smile, it wasn’t difficult to be sincere.

  “I think that dress is you, Jess,” I say. “You have to buy it.”

  “Maggie already bought it,” Jess says with a coy smile. “She said I needed to have it.”

  “Well, you do,” I tell her, standing. The bags crinkle with the motion, tissue paper scratching every which way. “Now let me give Maggie a piece of my mind about buying you all of these things. I told her I’d pay for it.”

  “Dad, no—” Jess grasps me hard and pushes me back. “Stay out, please,” she begs. “You can give her money later. I already told her you would.”

  “But—”

  “We’re running next door,” she says. “Please don’t come with us.”

  I sit, stunned, as Jess runs back to Maggie’s side, tugging on her shirt and pointing to the bright, unicorn-vomit-themed store next door.

  “Is this what it feels like to have a teenager?” I ask dully as Margaret steps outside the store to check on me. The girls are already buzzing over the mannequin in the window next door to us.

  “Nah,” she says with a smirk. “This is what it’s like to have girls.”

  “Does it ever get better?”

  She gives me a squishy face, pointing at herself. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  I laugh, waving her on to the next store and huddling back against the railing. Despite my armload of bags, I can’t find an ounce of annoyance in my bones. I find myself watching Jess, lit up like a Christmas tree, as she holds one shirt after another up and waits desperately for Maggie’s opinion on it.

  A single shake of the head or a nod from Margaret is enough to send Jessica into a tizzy of agreement.

  It dawns on me that I’ve never seen Jessica this excited about shopping...ever. Her mother takes her now and again, but Jess has never been thrilled about going. For Anastasia, it’d simply been something to do until she had to return Jess to me.

  And now that I think about it, Jessica usually didn’t come home with anything. I’d seen the bags in Anastasia’s hands
when she dropped Jessica off, but Jess never seemed to acquire anything new. Those bags—none of them had ever belonged to Jess. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time.

  I feel a burning behind my eyes, a new frustration building inside my chest, and set the bags down. I rub my temples, trying to keep calm. Even the few short hours Anastasia spent with our daughter weren’t about Jess—they were about Anastasia. I probably hadn’t noticed Jess’s lack of bags because I’d just been relieved she’d gotten time with her mother.

  I watch Jess with a new perspective, seeing she’s positively thirsting for attention from Maggie. So much that Mila can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. While Jess tugs Maggie in one direction, Mila wanders off to look at sparkly shit in a different section entirely.

  Jess is clinging to Maggie, and the image breaks my heart. Maggie is everything a mother should be—warm, loving, tender, selfless—and the fact that she’s spent about two hours with my daughter and has given her more attention and love than Anastasia ever has before, breaks me.

  I fluctuate between violent bursts of frustration and wild despair. My fingers flex over the straps of the bags as I pull them back to my sides. I can’t force Anastasia to love Jessica. Normally, I’m confident in my resolve to do the best damn job I can raising Jess alone, but today, it’s feeling like it’s not enough.

  By the time the girls are through, my arms are loaded with bags, and the smile on my face is a forced one. Inside, there’s a new heaviness. A new weight that I fear will never leave. I hadn’t known what Jessica was missing before. Now that my eyes have been opened, they’re impossible to close.

  “Can I have a Cinnabun?” Mila asks, tugging on her mom’s arm.

  “Sure,” I say absently, not noticing Maggie’s frown.

  Jess is clutching Maggie’s other hand. “Cinnabuns are so unhealthy.”

  “Be a kid for once,” Mila says. “Who cares?”

  “I want to be healthy,” Jess says. “I want to live forever.”

  “Me too, but Cinnabuns make me happy.”

  There’s a fight breaking out beneath our noses, but I can’t seem to comprehend it, and neither can Maggie. She’s too busy watching me.