Page 18 of Buried Dreams

“I’m going to have a chocolate cupcake with the sprinkles,” she orders, jumping up and down and clapping her hands, “and Daddy likes the same thing.” I stop my head from turning to stare at him because he hates chocolate. He always picked vanilla over chocolate every single time.

“Coming right up.” I turn to walk to the back and only when I’m safely there do I let my head hang, and a single lone tear escapes and runs down my face. My hand shakes as I pull the white box off the shelf. Walking back in, I hear her say, “Ask her, Daddy.” I have no choice but to look at Brock. His eyes turn soft as he looks up at me, and then I can see the shift in them right before my eyes. “Ask her.”

“What can I help you with?” I ask him and then turn to look at his little girl.

“Ms. Maddie usually gives me a cookie while I wait,” she announces instead of waiting for Brock to say something, but all he does is put his hands on her shoulders.

I laugh and nod. “That sounds like my mom,” I reply, treating her just like I would any other little girl. But she’s not just any other little girl. Even my heart knows it. “What cookie do you usually get?”

“She usually has the special ones for me,” she shares, her eyes lighting up, “that she keeps in the back.”

“Is that so?” I lean my elbows on the counter. “And would you know where she keeps them?” I joke with her and all I want to do is look into her eyes that are very much like her father’s. The way they used to be. The ones I longed to look into. “She would only share it with special people.”

“I know, I know.” She holds up her hand. “Can I show you?” she asks, and I nod as she looks back at Brock. “Can I go, Daddy?”

“Yeah.” His voice is gruff and again I ignore looking at him. Instead, I watch the little girl walk behind the counter and come to my side.

“Lead the way.” I hold out my hand for her to walk in front of me and I follow her.

“She keeps them in there,” she directs, once she gets into the back and points at the fridge in the corner, where she keeps the cookie dough.

“Wow,” I say, folding my arms in front of me instead of reaching out and touching her hair and seeing if it’s as soft and silky as her father’s, “she must really like you.”

“She does. She says I’m a very special little girl.”

I don’t answer her. I just nod as I feel my heart soar in my chest. “She usually warms it up for me,” she informs me of how things go. I walk over to the fridge and pull out the cookies I baked just this morning.

“I don’t know if these are as good as Ms. Maddie’s,” I say, putting the tray on the table in the middle of the kitchen, “but here they are.” She comes over and stands next to me and I look up to see Brock has followed us into the kitchen. He stands in the doorway, watching us. Does he think I would do something to his daughter?

“Oh, is that one chocolate chip?” she asks, and I nod. “Can I have that one?” She points at what might be the biggest one on the tray.

“You got it,” I confirm, grabbing a spatula and then walking over to the oven and putting it in. “It’ll be a minute. I’ll go and pack your cupcakes and it’ll be done by then.” She smiles at me, and it’s a good thing I’m beside a table so I can hold myself up. The smile is one I’ve dreamed of for the last nine years. The one where I allow myself to let him out of the box I banished him to.

“I’m getting a cookie.” She runs to him and he looks down at her. “And it’s a big one.”

“Let’s go wait in front and get out of Ms. Everleigh’s way.” He turns and walks to the front.

“She’s pretty, Daddy,” I hear her say and then I don’t hear anything else. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does. Add one more thing on the list of why I hate Brock. I never thought being a good dad would get you a notch on the list, but he was just added there for this.

I walk out and pack the two cupcakes in the box and throw in another one just to piss him off, or at least hope I do when he opens the box and sees. “Do we have a special color for the ribbon?” I ask.

“Green because it’s like my name.”

“Your name is green?” I ask and she laughs at my question.

“No, it’s Saige,” she retorts and I nod, looking down at the green ribbon we have.

“That’s a pretty name,” I say as I put the box on the counter. “I’ll get your cookie.” I need to get away from this whole situation. I need to get him out of my space, and I need to drink about a whole gallon of wine to erase the fact that not only does his daughter look like him, he won. In all of this, he ends up being the winner. I may have ended up having to bury my dreams, but in the end, he was the one who won at this whole fucking thing. He won because he gets to live a fulfilling life with his daughter, and all I have is the emptiness he left me with.

I put her cookie in a white sleeve bag, bringing it to the front and handing it to her. “Here you go, Saige.”

“How much do we owe you?” Brock steps forward and I look up at him.

“It’s on the house,” I say and then look at Saige. “Enjoy the cupcakes.”

“Daddy, can we bake cupcakes this weekend?” she asks him as I turn and walk into the back, not willing to hear the rest of his conversation. My heart can only handle so much.

My phone rings, and I pull it out to see it’s Autumn. “Hello,” I answer, as if she knew I needed her.

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