Page 37 of Milk & Cookie

“My father,” she practically snarls.

I stop in my tracks. She thinks I’d help a wife-beater find his victims? How badly did he treat them if they’d assume such a thing? I shake my head. “Nobody sent me, Fred,” I say calmly, hoping to ease their panic. “I don’t know your father. I don’t even know his name.”

“Don’t play dumb. I already know you’re a frickin’ genius.” She places her body in front of the door, as if to shield her mom from me. “The library. The research you were doing was about me, Vince. My family.”

“Because I was curious,” I explain. “I wasn’t ready to talk to you, because I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you off. I was searching for the truth in the town rumors about this beautiful babymaker, but I was also looking for clues, because I was already falling for you and imagining the family we could have together. I needed all the help I could get if I was going to impress you, so you’d give me a shot. It’s like your mom said — I’m hardly a catch, Fred. I’ve been thrown back enough times to know it. I didn’t keep anything from you intentionally; we just haven’t done a lot of talking.”

Her hard expression doesn’t soften. “Tell me why you’re in town in the first place.”

“I’m visiting Daryl. He’s one of my oldest friends, and the only one who isn’t settled with a family, so I feel less pathetic when we hang out. I don’t get out of the city a lot, but sometimes, I just… need to. My brain works better in the country, and Daz said he wanted to hang out more, and he moved here a while ago, but I hadn’t seen his place, and I miss the countryside and the peace, and then I met you, and I fell in love.”

Her eyes grow even wider, and not in the excited way I would hope for. Maybe Daryl was right, to ban me from telling her I’ve fallen so hard and so fast, but she wants honesty, and there’s no way I can hide anything from her when she’s looking for any reason not to trust me.

“I’m only going back to quit my job, so I can move here to be closer to you,” I blurt out. “So I can do everything in my power to make you happy. Because I am desperate for you to love me back, Frederica.” I sink to my knees before her. “You feel like home, and I don’t fit anywhere else.” I wipe my brow and try to get my breathing under control.

Her eyes ignite with a glare so startling, I get to my feet and hurry backward.

She marches right at me. “Are you talking about your penis?” she whisper-growls.

“No. I’m… I have a heart, Frederica.” I stumble over a big potted plant on the edge of the path, fall, and crack the thing in half when it topples and hits the paving stones. I rush to salvage the thing, putting pieces back together, as if I can fix this terrible, shattered attempt at making a good impression on Fred and her family.

Gail storms out of the front door, wielding a baseball bat. “You broke my pot?”

I raise my hands defensively, and all the pieces I was trying to fit back around the roots of the big lavender plant crash onto the stone path again and break into even smaller pieces. “It was an accident.”

“That’s what they all say,” she says, still coming for me.

Fred steps between us. “It was an accident. He tripped.” She yanks the bat from her mother’s hand, rubs her face, and sighs. She cranes her neck to look toward the house. “Mom, please go back inside and make sure the girls can’t hear any of this,” she says, before she turns her attention back to me. “Vince, I think you should leave before this situation gets any worse.”

I hang my head, slowly get to my feet, and nod. “I swear I was trying to be likable, Fred.” I look around and see all the elements of the beautiful life I wanted, and then have to turn my back on it all. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

“I didn’t say you did.” She follows me to the gate. “And I don’t like you less. I would have preferred if things had gone differently, but there isn’t anything that can be done about it today. This will take some time to smooth over, but you’re going to call me when you get home, and we’ll talk more about it then. Travel safely, Vincent Monaghan. And thank you for fixing the gate,” she says, testing its swing.

I search her face. “It’s not over? I didn’t ruin everything?”

“I have a heart too” — a half-shrug accompanies her half-smile — “and it would hurt if I never saw you again.” She rests her hands on her belly and drums her fingers against the fabric of her dress. “I think the universe brought us together for a reason, and I’m still hopeful that things will work out for the best.”

I let relief wash over me, and then I blow her a kiss. “So am I. I’ll keep trying, Angel.”

The local stores didn’t have a suitable terracotta planter replacement, so I stole the big one from the pretty centerpiece-like display in Daryl’s garden. Its absence ruins the whole effect he was going for, but he won’t mind donating the large urn for the sake of love. Not this time. This time it’s the real thing — I know this, because I am about to approach possibly the fiercest, most Vincent-hating woman I have ever met and attempt to win her over.

Well, to smooth the waters, at least. It won’t be easy, but it must be done if I’m going to be a part of Fred’s life.

The bell above the bakery door jingles multiple times, as I navigate the inadequately sized opening, encumbered by my awkward cargo.

I’m barely halfway in when Gail sets her boundary. “No.”

“C’mon, Gail. Is this any way to greet your best customer?” I ask lightly, with what I hope is a warm and inoffensive smile.

“No. It’s the way I greet the middle-aged giant trying to impregnate my much younger and much smaller daughter.”

I take a steeling breath and set the large pot on the ground. “Size and age don’t matter when souls find their mates.”

“There will be no mating,” she says through her teeth. “And you can’t leave that pot there. What were you even thinking? It’s ginormous. You’re clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed if you think I would accept this pathetic offering of God only knows what. An apology? A bribe? A dowry? In what world would I accept that and pedal it home on my bicycle?”

I frown. “It’s a gesture. A sign that I’m hoping to make amends. That I will face your terrifying wrath, because I love your daughter, and I want her life to be happy and peaceful — which it won’t be, unless you and I can get along, because we are going to be a family one day. With any luck, there’s already a baby on the way. And I didn’t expect you’d be able to lift this thing, let alone move it anywhere. I’ll deliver it before I leave today, but I came with it, to show you that I may be large and terrible at making good first impressions, but I’m not a bad man. I mean well, and I’m sorry for the way our proper introduction went this morning. Can we please try again, in a more civilized manner?”

She looks me over and shakes her head. “Nothing changes the fact that you’re too big and too old for her. You’re twice her age and twice her size — maybe thrice.”

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