Page 108 of The Perfect Mistake

He makes a low oohing sound. “The power to… blow bubbles!”

“Oh yes, that’s a good one. You’d distract bad guys with that, for sure,” she says. “Willa, do you have a weird superpower idea?”

My daughter turns, walking backward and looking at us with bright eyes. “Hmm. Maybe… the power to grow grass.”

“Grass?”

“Mm-hmm. Like really tall grass.”

That makes me chuckle. “The bad guys will definitely be confused if you throw around lawns right and left.”

Willa smiles at me. “Daddy, what’s yours?”

The ability to stop time, I think, looking at her. Feeling Sam’s small hand in mine and Isabel’s calm presence. Before they grow up… and before Isabel leaves.

“Sneezing super hard,” I say. “It’ll knock the bad guys right out.”

Both Sam and Willa laugh. They’re easily entertained, and I glance to the side, watching Isabel.

“That was inspiring,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“You should write a children’s book about him,” she teases.

I shake my head. “I think I like your superpower with the cereal more. Far more useful.”

Her smile widens, and I feel my own tug on my lips, and it’s ridiculous, what we’re doing. Talking about. Flirting in front of the kids. But I can’t find it in myself to stop this, either. Not to shamelessly enjoy her company every chance I get.

Willa skips a little. “Isabel,” she says. She has the voice of a-big-question-is-coming, and I hear the amusement in Isabel’s responding yes. Whatever comes next will be good. I’m betting it’s something about what snack she’ll get at pickup tomorrow.

“Do you want your own kids?” Willa asks.

Well.

That wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

Isabel cocks her head. “Yes, I think so. I’m pretty sure I want children one day. But that’s still years away,” she says.

“Mm-hmm. I want three kids,” Willa says. “All girls. What do you want?”

Isabel chuckles. “Two, I think.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Either, or both. I don’t have a preference,” Isabel says. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot. What are you going to name your daughters?”

With the authority of someone who considers this an iron-clad plan, Willa lists names that I recognize from some of the cartoons she likes to watch. At my side, Sam disagrees vehemently with the idea of three girls.

Of course Isabel wants kids. Two. It’s not a surprise, but it still feels like one. Another nail in the coffin of whatever it is we’re doing. She’ll be a fantastic mother one day. It’s easy to picture it, and the image sets off an ache in my chest. That’s still years away, she’d said. When she’s settled and ready.

And it’s unlikely I can give her any of that. I barely have enough time as it is, and the thought gives rise to fresh guilt inside me about the possibility of more between us. Of making her mine in every way that counts. Of being someone’s husband again.

Of having someone to lose again.

And why would she choose me? The fifteen-year difference might feel like nothing now, but if kids are years away for her, I might be in my late forties by that time. It’s impossible.

But I can be the man who makes her come, for as long as she’ll let me.

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