Page 118 of Choosing Forever
The heavy bag in her arms falls to the desk beside my salad container, a few bags of beads rolling out. I take a bit of pride in recognizing what all of the different kinds of strings she pulls out next are for. I’ll take any kind of bonus points when it comes to Abbie, and it seems taking part in her bracelet-building sessions earns me the most.
“I made this salad this morning, but it’s not great. I’m more of a Greek salad kind of woman, but all I had was plain lettuce and ranch dressing in the fridge,” I explain.
Abbie crinkles her nose. “I don’t like lettuce.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Do you have other food?”
“I already ate my chocolate,” I admit, almost sheepishly.
“Do you want to share mine?”
“You have chocolate in that bag of yours?”
She giggles and pulls the last of her supplies out beforerevealing maybe the most important part of any crafting session—treats.
“Dad always makes sure I have some just in case,” she says, shaking the bag of chocolate pretzels.
“He’s a pretty good dad, isn’t he?”
Her eyes light up as she rips open the bag and sets it between us. “He’s the best.”
“Well, do we have time to start a couple of new bracelets? There’s fifteen minutes left of recess.”
“Yep!”
I sit and wait while she gets me the right amount of string and ties the end before offering me my choice of beads. The purple ones grab my attention, so I choose them and get started.
“Did you give my dad the bracelet you made before?” she asks.
I gulp. “No. I didn’t get a chance.”
“Because I hit you with a door? I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“Oh! It’s okay. I know it was. I’m fine, anyway. Good as new,” I rush out.
Abbie smiles in reply and slides an L bead onto her string. Watching her concentrate on something she truly loves doing helps settle some of my anxiety about her father. If we were all as unbothered as a seven-year-old, there wouldn’t be even a quarter of as many awkward or tense situations as there are.
Sitting in the comfortable silence, I grab another shade of purple beads and start alternating between the two. Abbie doesn’t seem to have to think about what she’s doing because she just . . . does it. Her fingers move quickly but sure as she starts on the last half of her bracelet. I pick up my pace, casting her curious looks every few seconds.
When there’s a knock on the classroom door, she doesn’t so much as blink, let alone look toward it. I, on the other hand, do and immediately turn bright red.
“Is now an okay time?”
I stand, my heart trying to leap through my chest. “Yes. Hi. Come in.”
“Hey, Elle,” Darren drawls, my name rolling perfectly off his tongue. When his eyes flick to the opposite side of my desk, he adds a surprised “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
He reaches up to pinch the brim of his hat, almost appearing a bit embarrassed to have been caught here. “Uh, you forgot your pen at home.”
“My pen? Which one?”
“The pink one.”
Abbie frowns, her lips twisting as she thinks about that answer. I hold back a laugh at her confusion and focus on her father. It’s not like I want to jump to conclusions, but it looks a lot like he came just to see me.
