Page 12 of Hat Trick Holidate

Loosening my grip, I kiss the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She squirms out of my arms. Fuck, I don’t know how to do this. How fast to go? How much to push her to talk to me or even look me in the eyes.

As I make her a bowl of cereal, I pour myself one too. “Let’s eat on the couch.”

Jolie sits on the opposite end, and the only sound is the occasional crunch of her cereal. Why does my house seem quieter than it was before Jolie moved in? It was only me, and now there’s two, but she barely makes a peep. She watches movies on her tablet with her yellow earphones that have bright blue eyes over each ear. They freak me out. Eyes don’t belong on the side of your head.

Buy her princess headphones because these are frightening.

Jolie still hasn’t spoken, but she did lean against my leg a couple of days ago at the arena. Then, when I tucked her into bed, I bent to kiss her cheek, her eyes widened, and she turned over quickly. I was only doing what I thought I should as her dad. Instead, I arranged the covers and said, “Good night.”

Since it’s afternoon in Europe, I call Francesca. Jolie should perk up if she can talk with her mom, but it goes straight to voicemail after one ring.

“I need to talk to you about Jolie. She hasn’t said a word since you dropped her off. Has she always been this quiet? Has she been to the doctor? What kind of school has she been in? Has she been to school or daycare? Does she play with other children? Was she close to Lukas? I mean she thought he was her dad, and you just ripped her away from him. I don’t understand. Just call me, I need to know what to tell her if she asks why I’m her daddy all of a sudden. You said you told her that I was her real dad… but does a five-year-old even understand that? Why would you leave this little girl with me? You’re her mother. Just fucking call me.”

I pace around the bottom floor and flip my phone onto the couch, getting angrier by the second. Staring out at the Atlanta skyline, I sip my coffee, and all I can think about was my own father—how I hadn’t talked to him for years. Howam I supposed to be a good father when my own father could care less about me? The feeling is mutual.

Reed calls, wanting me to bring Jolie over today for lunch. Atlanta is still warm in October so they’re renting a bouncy house for the kids.

What the hell is a bouncy house?

I smile as I hang up. He’s always on my side, not just as my left winger, but he throws me a lifeline as a friend. Plus, I think he’s happy I have a child. Maybe we’ll get more time to spend hanging out.

Tapping her leg, she peers up at me. “We’re going to a friend’s house so you can play with other kids. They’re going to have a bouncy house. Do you know what that is?”

She gives me a miniscule nod.

“Can you show me? Because I have no idea.” I let out a light laugh because they say you learn something new every day.

She minimizes the movie, handing me the tablet. I type “bouncy house” into the browser, and hundreds of images fill the screen of colorful outdoor inflatables that you can jump in or slide down. It’s weird that I don’t know what all I don’t know.

“Ahh. Those are pretty cool.” I sit beside her and study them for a few seconds. “You need a bath, so turn off the movie.”

She pulls it to her chest, squeezing it, and lets out a piercing scream. It’s so loud and shrill, it causes me to jump up.

What the hell?

“Jolie, you’re going upstairs and taking a bath. Then we’re going to have fun.”

My beautiful girl’s face transforms. Her chin raises, nose scrunches, beady eyes, and her lips get smaller. She’s used to getting her way. Well, not in this house. Jolie needs to learn that I’m not bowing down to her.

“Get up.”

Her head flails from side to side, emphatic she’s not turning off her movie or taking a bath.

“On the count of three, you need to turn the movie off, or I’ll take it from you. One. Two. Three.”

Why did I think she would listen? She doesn’t know me.

“Okay, I’m taking it.” I easily pull it from her death grip even though she’s strong for a little girl.

More screams as I put it on the fireplace mantel where she can’t reach. As I pick her up, her legs kick furiously, and her foot hits me in the balls. It knocks the wind out of me, and I double over in pain, but somehow keep her tight against my chest.

“Fuck.”

She turns her head away from me, but her body is like mine, tense. I stand up straight and climb the stairs. Her legs kick even harder as we enter the bathroom. Turning the knobs, I warm the water and pull the switch to fill up the tub.

When I place her feet on the floor, I say, “Take your nightgown off.”

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