Page 17 of Buried Dreams

“Hey,” she mumbles to me as I put Saige down. “Here are your bags, Saige.” She’s holding out her backpack from school and then the little travel case she likes to take between houses.

Saige walks over to her, grabbing the bags. “Give me a kiss.” She bends, and Saige gives her a hug. “I’ll call you later,” she tells her, and Saige just nods. “I want to talk to Daddy for a second. Go wait in his office.”

I wait for her to walk by me as she leaves the bags there by the desk and goes to my office. I wait until she is out of earshot before I turn back to Karla. “I don’t think it’s a good idea having dinner with her in the middle of the week.”

It takes everything I have in me not to roll my eyes at her. “Why is that?”

“It throws her routine off,” she tries to say, “confuses her.”

“She’s almost nine. She knows the days of the week, and she knows when we do the exchanges.”

“I still don’t like it.” There it is. She doesn’t like it, so we can’t do it.

“If you like, I could go to my lawyer and ask to have the custody decree revised to include one visit during the week. If you want, I’m more than happy for you to do the same during my week.”

“Why do you have to be like that?” she asks. “It was working until now.”

“I’m not saying it’s not working well. I’m just saying I would like to have dinner with her during the week when she isn’t with me. Why are you busting my balls about this?”

“Trust me, the last thing I want to do is bust anything when it comes to you,” she hisses. “Been there, done that, over it.”

“Glad to know.” I shake my head. “She’s going to be old enough to decide where she wants to go when she wants to go. Wouldn’t it be better if we weren’t at each other’s throats?”

“Whatever, Brock,” she says, walking past me and sticking her head into the office. “Bye, baby, I’ll call you tonight.”

“Bye, Mom,” she replies, and I hear the squeak of the chair she’s sitting in before her mother storms out without saying goodbye to me.

I put my hands on my hips and look up at the ceiling before walking into my office. I see Saige sitting in my chair, going around and around in a circle while she watches something on the iPad I keep here for her. “I’m going to close up, and then we can head out,” I say, and she nods, continuing to spin.

I clean up my hands and check in with everyone before I walk back to get her. “Let’s go,” I urge her. She puts her iPad in the drawer and then skips over to me. I pick up her bags before placing them in the truck and opening the back door. “Get in.”

“Dad, cupcake.” She points at the bakery.

“It’s Friday,” she reminds me. “We get cupcakes on Friday.” She puts her hand in mine and pulls me toward the bakery.

“Um, how about we go for ice cream instead?” I offer, hoping she changes her mind but knowing she won’t. It’s the first time I hate that she’s stubborn like me.

“Cupcakes, Daddy.” She smiles at me, and I close my eyes, my feet walking toward the bakery with her. I’m hoping Everleigh left already, and she’s not there. Or they sold out of cupcakes so the display case is empty, and we can just walk out and not have to talk to or see anyone. “Please, Daddy,” she pleads.

“Anything for my girl.” I walk with her, her hand in mine, listening to her tell me about her day. But the whole time, I’m thinking about what is going to happen when I pull open that door. We get to it, and I reach out and pull it open. “Here we go,” I mumble, not even sure why I’m so nervous. “Cupcakes, and we leave.”

Chapter Ten

EVERLEIGH

I take a picture of the cupcakes on the stand and upload it on the Instagram page I created for my mother three years ago. A page she hasn’t kept up with since the last post, which was exactly three years ago. I’ve been taking over the social media since I’ve been in town, and it’s grown a ton. I even had one of the reels I created in the morning making the donuts go viral, and a couple of people have reached out and asked if we ship out.

I’ve even been on Pinterest at night while I’m in bed, coming up with different ideas to spruce up the place and bring the dreary to pop and sunshine. Maybe paint the walls a different color. Put some pictures up from over the years. Put up some little trinkets to make it feel more homey. Maybe put in a couple of tables by the window so they can grab a coffee or even a slice of cake.

I’m posting the picture when I hear the front door open, and then a child’s voice calls, “Daddy, they have cupcakes.” I smile at her animated voice as I walk out of the back and to the front.

I stop mid-step when I see Brock coming into the door, my eyes going to the little girl standing at the display counter. “Look, Daddy, they have my favorite.” She points at one of them, and all I can do is stare at her. My chest feels like an elephant has just stepped on me, crushing my breathing. I can’t help but stare at her, my eyes getting so dry as they burn to stay open, so I blink them furiously. “We can even get some for tomorrow,” she suggests happily, and the only thing I can think is she has to be the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. She looks exactly like Brock but with feminine features. She looks exactly like the daughter I always thought we would have.

“Hello,” I force out, hoping my voice doesn’t crack when I get to the counter.

“Hi,” she says, “is Ms. Maddie not here?”

I shake my head as the lump forms in my throat. “Not today.” I clear my throat in case it stops working. “What can I get you?” I don’t look up at Brock, not wanting him to see how this affects me. Even though I think I’ve put up a brave face, it would take one look into my eyes for him to see how much this is getting to me. And he doesn’t get that. He lost that right.

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