Page 19 of Wicked Wishes
Too bad for us she took that little bit of advice to heart. Our cute monster went scary Kaiju on us once grade school came around. Combat boots and leather jackets—just like her daddy. Sassy attitude and brash opinions—I think she gets that from me. Once kindergarten started, her cute dark became a little more like angry dark.
“Daddy will let me,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes at me as we wait for him.
That is where she is wrong. Her daddy will not let her stay up late watching horror movies tonight. Not with her hijinks lately. Talking back in class, being not nice to her classmates—though I know she does that to protect herself—and giving us major attitude. No way he lets her stay up and watch movies with us like we usually for Halloween.
“No, ma’am, he will not,” I sass back, frustrated that I seem to be losing the connection we shared.
Last year, the three of us went from zero to one hundred together. I had fallen in love with Harley well before I saw him be an amazing father to his little girl. And when I met her, my heart was a goner for them both. We went from flirting from afar to spending every moment together, me spending nights at their place and them even spending time at mine. Hope said she liked us sharing houses, but I hoped by now we would all be in one house.
Lately I find myself wondering if there is room for me in their life.
“What’s going on with my girls?” Harley’s suddenly voice booms in the quiet as his daughter and I watch one another.
“Daddy, I want a movie nightlike we always do. Can we?”
Harley comes up behind me where I am frosting cupcakes—his favorite lemon and blueberry—and kisses my neck as he wraps a thick arm around my middle. Closing my eyes, I savor the feel of him, the sweet and spicy scent of his skin and cologne, and the warmth of him pulling me close. Behind us, Hope giggles and I smile too because we are no good at hiding our affections.
“No, little monster, we can’t. You know better than to ask me after Hanna gave you an answer. How about we talk about why we can’t, huh? Sent home for a bad attitude?”
He spins me to face her and holds me close to his side. A show of solidarity between us. I notice he does this more often lately, but I think him putting me as an authority figure in her life is just upsetting her. And to mark my suspicions, she breaks into loud, wailing tears when he refuses her.
Letting me go, he shoots me a look and I start to sneak out. I usually let him handle her when she gets this upset. He pulls at my hand, shaking his head. I frown as tears fill my own eyes. I hate to see her upset and know that I am the cause of it. I am not her mother and I think she resents that truth.
“What is it Hope?” he coos, kissing her forehead and pulling me down to kneel with him in front of her.
For a moment, she cries hard and heavy, her little body shaking. Then the tiny hiccups come, and I look away. Whatever is upsetting her is taking its toll on her and I hate it. I wish I could take it away, but she stopped talking to me about what she thought and felt months ago. Her words shock me when she speaks, her eyes—so like Harley’s—aimed right at me.
“Why don’t you live with us? And why do I have to call you Hanna?”
Harley and I share a look and his face is stunned. My tears slip down my cheeks as he waits for her to go on. She falls quiet and shy. Our little monster is never shy. Standing, he leads us both out of the kitchen, pausing to grab some cupcakes and wink at me, taking us to the living room.
Just like the rest of the house, it is all done up for Halloween. Like last year, he mirrored the décor for both houses and Hope picked the theme. This year it’s bright sugar skulls in purples and blues with black, white, and glittery blue and purple pumpkins, skeletons, and bright lacy spider webs. The three of us spent days doing up both houses but once again I know we will be the favorite houses on the block.
Sitting together at our favorite loveseat in front of his big-screen, I feel my heart thunder. Unsure what is coming next. What she means about me living here and her calling me Hanna. We have never talked about moving in together or anything more serious than what we have now. Not that I don’t want it—hell I wanted forever with him the moment I set sights on him.
Hope climbs onto the ottoman facing us and I can tell we are in for a talk. Harley takes my hand in his and we wait. For a moment, our gazes dart back and forth amongst one another as she decides what she wants to say. Her little lip trembles and her big eyes get watery, and I want to reach out and grab hold of her, smother her with kisses, and tell her she can have the movie night she wants. But I am in no place to make that choice.
“Talk to us, monster. Tell us what you mean,” Harley presses gently, reaching out to take her little hand.
“I know Hanna is not my mom,” she sniffles, and her sad voice and those words cut through me, “and you two don’t live together like most parents do. And I know you loved my real mom and she loved me. I miss her sometimes, but I don’t remember her. But...I want Hanna to be my mom. I don’t want to call herHanna,” she rolls her eyes, but she smiles at me softly and I am awed by her blunt honesty, “I want us to live together and you to marry her. I want brothers and sisters. I don’t likesharinga house. I miss her more than I miss my real mom and I feel bad, but I want her to be my mom now.”
If I thought I was prepared for this meltdown, I was wrong. I was way,waywrong. I thought my heart was thundering before but I was way off—now it thuds in my chest so hard and fast, it fills the quiet that suffocates the room. Before I can escape the unease, Harley is moving.
Scooping up Hope, he kicks the ottoman out of his way, startling us both. He kneels in front of us both, setting his daughter at my lap as he gazes up at us. His eyes are watery as he bends his head to touch his nose to hers before he slips past her, touching his lips to mine. It’s not really a kiss, but a gentle touch to ask me to give him a moment.
“When I married your mama,” his voice shakes as he looks Hope, “I swore to love her for the rest of our lives. I meant it because I mean what I say to the women in my life. I could not know I would see her to the end of hers but still have a lot of my life to live. I was living for just you, my little monster,” his face lights up with the love he has for his little girl, “and that was good enough for me for a long time. Until I found her,” his eyes shift to me, and they glow with a different love and my chest hurts as he goes on,” I loved Hanna the day I met her, the first time she smiled at me. It scared me and I am no good at being scared. I was afraid to let down the memory of the promise I made, or let you down, baby girl. But I let all my girls down by not doing right by you both,” he says as he bows his head.
Before I can reach out to him, wanting to soothe both the man I love and the girl I consider my own, he takes a shaky breath as his fist lifts. Sitting atop the black frosted cupcakes we made for Halloween treats is a sparkling ring. I gasp and Hope shouts, reaching out to yank it off the frosting. Beside it is a pink spider ring that she snatches up too. I almost laugh because it is so cute and weird and so her—so us—but I am too choked up to laugh.
“I love you, Hanna. And I want the same thing our little monster wants. I want us under one roof, with one last name. I want you to be my wife. And the mother to my daughter. Will you marry me, sweets? Be my wife and give me more little monsters?” his voice trembles but he looks like a badass knelt before me with love in his eyes for both the ladies in his life.
“Please,” Hope clasps her hands together and slides the spider ring on my finger too.
“Holy shit,” I gasp the words out, covering my mouth when she giggles at my naughty words.
“Watch that mouth, sweets,” Harley growls even as he grins at me.
“Yes. All the yeses to all the above. I will marry you. Yes, to more monsters and heck yes to this little monster,” I gush, dipping my head to kiss her nose and then like he did earlier, slide past her to kiss his mouth.
