Page 106 of Deal Breaker
“Sure,” Landyn agrees. “Ford’s going to drive us in his truck,” she says, nodding towards my F-150. I open the back door and Poppy scrambles inside.
“I like your truck, Ford,” she tells me as I buckle her in, checking the booster seat yet again to make sure it’s secure.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I tell her. “Do you want to drive?”
She shakes her head, giggling. “I’m only six!”
“Oh, that’s right,” I tease her. “I guess I’ll drive then.”
I shut the door, turning to face Landyn.
“She really wants me to come?” I ask quietly as we fall into step together.
She smiles, and there’s something soft underlying it—something careful. “You made an impression, Ford.”
I round the front of the truck and slide into the driver’s seat, surprised by the lump that’s formed in my throat.
The whole drive to the studio, Poppy talks non-stop from the back seat about her teacher, the sparkly bodysuit she gets to wear at her recital, the way she can do an arabesque now, “but not the hard kind, just the beginner one.” She says she can’t wait to show us.
Us.
When we get to the dance studio, Landyn takes Poppy to the bathroom to get her changed while I hover near the chairs by the front desk, trying not to feel out of place.
“This way,” Landyn calls to me as they step out of the washroom, Poppy in her pink leotard and tights, her pale pink ballet shoes dangling from her hand.
Poppy takes off, and we follow her down the hall to the viewing window where Landyn and I stand quietly side by side. Soft music filters into the hallway, classical and light, and all the girls in the class start to move. It’s chaos, really, with kids flailing a beat too late or skipping steps entirely. But one little dancer stands out.
Poppy.
She moves with purpose, her arms lift to exactly where they should be, her toes pointed, her posture poised. She’s perfectly on rhythm, a tiny storm of grace and focus amid the spinning mess of pink tulle.
“Landyn,” I murmur, leaning in. “Is she a prodigy?”
Landyn stifles a laugh and elbows me lightly. “Keep your voice down, dance dad.”
“I’m serious,” I whisper. “Look at her. She’s…she’s doing everything exactly right. She’s leaps and bounds better than any of the other kids. She dances circles around them.”
My eyes are glued to her, so full of concentration and quiet confidence. She moves through the routine like it’s second nature to her, like this is where she’s meant to be.
Landyn smiles. “She’s always been like that. Determined. She works her little butt off. I think she gets that from you,” she adds quietly, not looking at me.
“Landyn,” I say, my voice low as I tear my gaze away from the window and look at her. “My brothers want to meet her eventually.”
She nods, turning her head to meet my gaze. “I figured they would.”
“I haven’t told them much. Just that she’s ours.” I pause. “They’ll love her.”
“I’m sure she’ll love them too.” She swallows. There’s a beat of silence. “Do they hate me?”
Her voice is barely above a whisper, and it hits something tender inside me. I shake my head slowly. “No. They’re…protective. But they don’t hate you, Landyn.”
She lets out a breath, but I can see the worry still flickering in her eyes. “I wouldn’t blame them if they did.”
“They watched me fall apart when you left,” I start. “So, they’re looking out for me. But they’ll come around…for Poppy’s sake.”
The tension crackles between us like a wire pulled too tight. I should say something to ease it, but I don’t. I’m not ready yet. There’s a part of me that is still so mad.
Eventually, Landyn’s shoulder brushes mine. “You know what she said to me yesterday?”
