Page 108 of Romancing the Grump
Wait.
DoI love her? Is that what this feeling is?
I think my chest might explode, and I lift a hand to my sternum, rubbing up and down like that might somehow help to diffuse the building pressure.
“Uncle Nathan,” Allie says, crawling into my lap. “Want to read me a story?”
I take a deep breath, grateful for the distraction. “Absolutely, I do,” I say, taking extra care to position her legs so her braces won’t pinch her skin.
The book is hilarious. It has no pictures, just words written in a way that forces the reader to make all kinds of ridiculous sounds and say words that feel mostly made up. Allie loves it, and her full-on belly laugh makesmelaugh.
As soon as we turn the last page, Allie flips the book over, bouncing in my lap as she says, “Again. Again!”
I read it a second time, and this time, Allie’s sister Caroline joins us, taking up the other half of my lap. I ham it up this time, exaggerating the funny parts, making them laugh harder and harder. When we hit the last page, Allie turns around, shifting onto her knees and pressing her tiny hands against my cheeks.
“Thanks, Uncle Nathan,” she says. “You should be a dad.”
Both girls scramble off my lap, the book forgotten as they move on to a puzzle Cassie is spreading out on the coffee table.
“Did she just say I should be adad?” I ask.
Cassie shrugs. “They’re learning about families in her pre-k class. She doesn’t have any cousins, and I told her she won’t until you have kids.”
Two months ago, a comment like that from Allie would have only made me roll my eyes. She’s a kid. What does sheknow? But now, with my mind full of Summer, Allie’s words trigger a wave of emotions that take me by surprise.
I’m not ready to say Iwantto be a dad. That would be like going from zero to sixty in mere seconds. But for the first time, I find myself considering the possibility without the sense of dread that usually accompanies thoughts like those.
It’s not hard to imagine that kind of life with Summer. A home. Kids.A family.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
Two months ago, I was perfectly happy with my single life. Playing hockey. Taking care of myself, determined to be, above all else, nothing like my father.
Now, I’m very likely in love with Summer, I’m talking to Felix like he’s my therapist, and I’m considering the possibility that I might not be giving my father enough credit.
Talk about a paradigm shift.
I push out of my chair. “Hey, where’s Mom?”
Cassie tilts her head toward the back porch. “Here. Take her this,” she says, handing me a throw blanket from the arm of the couch. “Maine still hasn’t figured out it’s officially spring.”
Mom is sitting on the top step of Cassie’s back porch, her elbows propped on her knees.
I stop behind her and drape the blanket over her shoulders, then sit down beside her.
“Thanks,” she says, tugging the corners of the blanket together under her chin. She eyes me. “Want to share?”
“I’m okay.”
“Used to the cold,” she says. “That's what your father always said.”
I’m quiet for a beat before I say, “Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“Was Dad ever a good dad?”
Mom’s expression softens, her eyes curious as she studies me.
