Page 4 of If This Was a Movie

“No, she did not,” Sloane whispers under her breath, and Sutton barks out a laugh. But the wish we both have that we misheard her is swept away when, upon Santa’s request for clarification, Sophie repeats herself with confidence.

“Where is she even coming up with this?” I say under my breath as Sophie fills in Santa on all the things she wants to do with ‘Ashlyn’ when she’s real. “I don’t even date.”

“Because you’re too caught up on your mysterious dream girl,” Sutton says with smugness in her voice.

Not for the first time, I regret getting drunk with my sister last February after Sophie fell asleep and telling her all about the woman I met on New Year’s who ghosted me not long after we met. That’s when I told her all about how I felt a connection I couldn’t describe, despite the short amount of time I spent with her, how I was sure to my gut she was meant to be mine, and I had no idea where things went wrong.

“A dream girl?” Sloane asks, her interest peaked.

“Ignore her, she’s insane,” I say.

“He met a girl on New Year’s and fell in love, but a week later after he canceled a date, she blocked him, and he hasn’t heard from her since.”

“Why did you cancel?” Sloane asks, always ready to tell me I’m the problem, as any good younger sister is wont to do.

“Soph broke her arm.” I’m praying they leave it at that, really wanting this conversation to end, but I know better.

“Did you tell her that?”

I run a hand over my face before shifting my focus from Sophie to Sloane. Sutton is looking at me, now interested, probably realizing she didn’t think to ask me that question.

“I told her I had a family emergency.”

“But not that your daughter broke her arm.”

Once more, I look at the ceiling, but unfortunately it still hasn't written the answers to life’s mysteries there yet. “I didn’t tell her I had a daughter.”

Silence follows before my sisters explode.

“You fucking idiot!” Sutton shouts.

“You have to be kidding me, Nathan,” Sloane says, using my full name. “Why didn’t you tell her!?”

“Because I liked her, okay?” I say, getting frustrated, then lowering my voice. “I liked her a lot, and I wanted her to give me a chance without having to dump on her that I have a kid.”

“God, Nathan, you really are so, so dumb. Have you ever considered that that’s what happened? Evergreen Park is a tiny town. She probably asked around about you to a few people and they filled her in on you and all of your drama.”

I actually…hadn’t thought of that, if I’m being honest. I assumed she just got turned off by something I did or said and set a clear boundary, blocking my number so I couldn’t contact her again.

“You think?” I ask, suddenly letting my mind see other possibilities. What if she learned about Sophie and thought the worst? What if she thought I was hiding even more things and decided to cut her losses before she got in too deep? Did I fuck up big time by letting things end where they did? “Things were good between us until right before my texts started marking as not delivered.”

“God, and this society says men are the smart ones, the breadwinners, the rulers of the world, but then this is the kind of logic us women are dealing with. Yes, Nate. I would bet everything was fine and dandy and then she found out you omitted the vital fact that you had a child. She probably decided you were a liar, or even worse, thought you were cheating on Sophie’s mother!”

Well, fuck. Thatwouldmake sense, a potential new piece to the puzzle that’s been plaguing me for months.

“You need to find her. At the very least explain so she doesn’t go around thinking all of the Donovans are assholes.”

There’s a loudHo! Ho! Ho!that breaks through our conversation, and I use it as an excuse to step away from my sisters and what I’m sure is going to be a long and painful beatdown.

I take Sophie’s hand as the elf hands her back to me, ushering me to the kiosk where I can buy a shitty photo that costs fifty dollars and Sophie can get a candy cane before we start to walk toward the exit to get out of this madhouse. My mind is still reeling from my sisters’ revelation, but now I have a more pressing issue in front of me as Sophie walks next to me with her wide, gap-filled smile, her doll in hand.

“Hey, bud…” I start, not sure where to go from here. Never once has my daughter implied she wanted a mother figure in her life, not even after she realized her mom wasn’t coming back every other weekend like she was used to.

Never once has she mentioned my dating, much less getting married.

Where the fuck has this come from?

I settle on keeping it simple and straightforward. “Sophie, what did you ask Santa for for Christmas?” Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear, she’ll give me something reasonable, something I can actually purchase with money. Maybe I misheard—I am getting old and?—

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