Page 21 of Hat Trick Holidate

“Don’t beat yourself up. But yeah, now that you’re afamily man…” He tips his water to me. “You need to celebrate with tea parties.” A laugh bounces out his throat.

“Fuck you.”

“There’s our grump, but don’t knock it until you try it. Carly has me wrapped around her little finger and Christina too, but right now, I just hold her all the time. No teacups or tiaras, yet. We better go see what Canon and Jolie are into. Brooke took Carly and Christina to the doctor.”

We gallop down to the basement where Cannon and Jolie are jumping on the couch. She has the most innocent laugh. They jump two or three times and then fall on their backs on the large, comfy couches. Jolie’s little body bounces up, and her arms flail like a goose trying to get off the ground.

Reed interrupts the fun. “Cannon, where are Jolie’s shoes? Her dad is here.”

Suddenly, Jolie’s eyes are void of emotion in direct contrast to the laughter that filled the room only moments ago.

Cannon grabs Jolie’s hand and drags her behind him and into another room. “Aww, they’re fast friends,” Reed says as they come out with her dress shoes.

“Hey, Jolie,” I crouch in front of her. “Did you have a good time?” I know she did. I heard her.

Two blinks. Thank God.

“Can you tell Cannon thank you for playing?” I ask.

One blink. No. But Cannon runs into her like a truck and puts his arms around her. “Mommy said you might go to my school,” he says, earning him a close-lipped smile from Jolie.

“Tell Brooke thank you for keeping her today. My head is swimming from information overload. How do you knowwhat’s best for your child?” I turn my back to Jolie and whisper, “What if I mess her up?”

The thundering footsteps of Cannon and Jolie echo through the basement as they race up the stairs.

Reed chuckles. “I hate to tell you but life as you have lived it… is over. But I promise you’ll be happier than you ever were.”

“Fuck. I like my life,” I grunt like my words are sliding against sandpaper.

“Sometimes the life you want isn’t the life you need. And don’t forget I know who you were in college when you were with Andrea. You’re not the same now,” he says earnestly in a concerned tone.

“I liked you better when you were a brooding asshole,” I joke, but we both know I don’t mean it.

Jolie and I leave the Crosses, and we head to Dick’s Sporting Goods. This little lady needs some sweatpants and t-shirts. But of course, she blinks once to everything.

“Jolie, please talk to me. You can have anything in this store you want. Just point to what you want.”

What little girl doesn’t want to go clothes shopping? Based on Francesca’s looks and Jolie’s wardrobe, I assume she shops all the time. Out of nowhere, Jolie has a meltdown. Screaming at the top of her lungs, garnering attention from shoppers, employees, and security. It occurs to me that Jolie might say I’m not her dad. Hell, I know she won’t. She may not even know my name.

I swing her up into my arms and tuck her head against my chest as I practically run out of the store, buckle her into her car seat that Reed helped me put in the car, and agrumble comes from my chest. I look at her red eyes and her wet cheeks. “Jolie, what am I doing wrong?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and buries her head into the side of the car seat. I slam the back door, hop into the driver’s seat, and peel out of the parking lot without any new clothes.

What in the hell am I going to do with a mute daughter who hates me?

eight

EMMALINE

Why amI staring at my phone? Shutting my eyes, I take a deep breath. I’m looking at this message like Prince Charming is on one knee, slipping a glass shoe over the arch of my foot and securing it around the ankle.

Wynward: Can you watch Jolie tonight?

Me: What time?

Wynward: Eight.

When I take a few more minutes to answer, the dots dance.

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