Page 36 of The Parent Pick-Up
There’s nothing I can say to soothe her broken heart. Or mine.
“I’m so sorry, Hannah. I know it hurts.”
It’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I need this hug as much or more than Hannah does. I wish I could tell her everything was going to be okay, but I refuse to give my daughter empty promises. We’ve both learned the hard way that some people are not reliable.
Her mother let her down, and now Ivy. Running off at the first sign of trouble.
“Olivia doesn’t want to move, but the reporters came and her mom freaked out.”
“I know.”
“Now they’re moving away forever and she’s mybest friendand we just won the talent show together—” she breaks off into a full-on sob.
So that’s it. Ivy’s moving. I shouldn’t be surprised. Ivy is gorgeous and famous. And I’m just a small-town single dad with a tendency to fall way too hard for unattainable women.
My phone buzzes in the console.
Her name flashes across the screen.
Ivy.
I stare at it. My thumb hovers. I can’t. I can’t hear her voice and pretend it doesn’t still undo me.
Then Hannah grabs it.
“Hi, Miss Ivy,” she says through a sniffle. “Yeah, my dad’s right here.”
She shoves the phone at me, and I have no choice but to take it.
“Hello.” It’s an effort to keep my voice even.
“I need to talk to you,” she says. “In person.”
“I already know what you’re going to say.”
“We need to meet,” Ivy says, her voice a harsh whisper that makes me wonder who is standing next to her.
Fury ignites in my chest. I lower the phone and tell Hannah I will be right back. If Ivy is going to nail the coffin shut on our short-lived romance, I’ll need a moment of privacy.
“Just say it,” I say, pacing away from the parked car.
“Not on the phone,” Ivy says.
I swallow the hurt, tasting the bitterness of dying hope. “Why?”
“Have dinner with me tonight while the girls are at Hailey’s birthday party.”
“I have a lot of papers to grade.”
“Meet me at The Pizza Peel, and I’ll help you.”
I should say no. But I’m weak.
Pathetic.
Hopelessly in love with a woman who is about to end us for a guy who looks like he was a member in a boy band.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m having the garlic knots.”
