Page 6 of Hat Trick Holidate

She blinks twice.

“Okay, so two blinks are yes.” I’m confusing myself when she remains silent. “Let’s do one blink for No and two blinks for yes, okay?”

She blinks twice.

Now I can’t remember how many times she blinked at my question. “Look around and whatever else you need or want, tell me.”

Her small hand grabs the hem of her dress as she hesitates before she nods up and down in the affirmative. Why didn’t I just say shake your head up and down for yes and side to side for no. That would be much easier.

Francesca tugs me out into the hallway. “I have to go. I’m going to slip out without saying goodbye. Goodbyes are hard and seem final so… anyway, when Lukas and I get a sitter, this is how we handled it.”

Creases stretch across my forehead as I whisper, “But when you get a sitter, you come back. You’re not coming back… for months… or ever.” I understand people you love notcoming back, and I don’t want my little girl to go through it.

“I’m coming back. Lukas will finish his season in a few months, and we’ll come back during the offseason.” Francesca walks backward toward the stairs as she speaks. Lukas’ contract ends on the last day of February, so actually four months until she sees her mother again. “She loves movies. Just let her watch what she wants, and she’ll be an angel. Bye. I’ll call her once we get settled.”

Unable to leave Jolie upstairs by herself in a new house with unfamiliar toys, I let Francesca leave. I watch her sneak out of my house—not from me but from her daughter.

Francesca has no business with a child. But do I?

I don’t have one inkling about how to raise a child, much less a girl. I never had a sister. With my palm against the wall, I look into Jolie’s room. She still has a firm grip on her bear. Without touching anything, she walks from one thing to the next. First, a nightstand that has a princess lamp and a picture book. Second, to the bed with more princess sheets and comforter. Her eyes peer down below her feet, taking off her shoes. She wiggles her toes into the plush flower rug. A hint of a smile tips her mouth before it fades.

“How about those cookies?”

She blinks twice. That’s a yes.

Her arm reaches up to hold the rail on the way down the stairs, but when she can’t get her fingers around it, she puts her whole palm on the glass all the way down the steps. Marking her territory, Jolie lives here now, and these tiny handprints are proof.

After nibbling on one cookie, I sit her on the couch and click the remote to a streaming app that has kid movies,which I don’t currently have, so I have to sign up. It takes a few minutes, but Jolie sits cross-legged, tinkering with her bear, being patient.

Are five-year-old’s always this patient?

I hand her the remote, and she scrolls through the movies swiftly like she’s done it a thousand times. Breathing a sigh of relief, I lean my head back on the couch, attempting to shut off the doubts I can’t handle this.

As I crossthe street to the park, I realize that I can’t go running—there’s a small human being in my apartment by herself. Jolie’s so quiet, I forgot she was here. Sprinting back, the doorman greets me. “That was quick.”

A growl escapes my chest as I use my key card to take the elevator that only stops on the penthouse, my house. Well, it stops at the spa/pool floor too, but no one can get to my floor using this elevator. Thirty-five floors take forever. When I open the door, it’s quiet. I tiptoe up to her room, and she’s sleeping. Thank God. I let out a sigh of relief.

Can I go for a run if I leave her a note?

The answer is no.

Can she read?

There’s so much I don’t know.

I work out in my home gym and check on her every thirty minutes until she wakes.

“Eggs? Toast? Cereal?”

Finally, I get two blinks, so I take out five boxes, and she points to the cereal she wants. I make her a bowl, while I eat a banana and eggs.

I have to be at the arena in two hours for our Saturday afternoon game and I haven’t even thought of what I’ll do with Jolie. I type out a message to Reed.

Me: Will Brooke be at the game today?

Reed: No, the kids all have games today. I hate Saturday afternoon games.

Me: Fuck.

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