Page 113 of Fake As Puck
“Then it’s settled,” Tessa says, clapping her hands together. “Uncle West and Auntie Liv take the munchkins to Disney. Rich uncle West pays for it all. And I get a day of uninterrupted work time. Everyone wins.”
Two hours later, we’re loaded into West’s rental car with enough snacks and supplies to survive a small apocalypse. Charlie’s bouncing in her car seat, singing something that might be “It’s a Small World” but sounds more like a war chant. Emma’s alreadypassed out, clutching her stuffed Mickey Mouse she’s had since she was born.
“You sure you want to do this?” I ask West as he navigates LA traffic. “It’s going to be hot and crowded and Charlie’s going to want to go on everything twelve times.”
“We can’t back out now.”
“And Emma’s going to need like six diaper changes and will probably have a meltdown when she gets overstimulated.”
West says, “I can handle diaper changes and meltdowns.”
“And the lines are going to be insane because it’s a Saturday in summer.”
“Liv.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” he asks, concerned. He wears that smile on his face like this is going to be easy.
I huff. “I’m trying to prepare you for reality.”
“I’m a professional athlete. I think I can handle two small children for one day.”
“Famous last words.”
But he’s smiling when he says it, and I realize I’m looking forward to this more than I want to admit.
Disneyland with West and the kids. Like we’re a family.
Like we get to pretend for one last time to see if this thing between us is truly going to last.
The parking situation is exactly as terrible as I predicted, and by the time we make it through security and into the park, Charlie’s vibrating with excitement and Emma’s wide-eyed and overwhelmed by all the noise and color.
“Okay,” I say, pulling out the park’s map on the app they insist you to download. “Game plan. We hit the little kid rides first while they’re still fresh, then work our way up to the bigger stuff if Charlie’s brave enough. Snacks every hour, bathroom breaks every thirty minutes whether they say they need them or not.”
“You’ve done this before?” West asks, watching me while pushing the stroller that’s jampacked with snacks, water, extra clothes, sunscreen, and everything you can possibly imagine. I’m sort of panicking that I’m at Disneyland with two kiddos and with West who is acting like this is fine. It’s not fine.
“No, I haven’t been to Disneyland in a while. Okay, so we have to buy them Mickey Mouse ears, and balloons. Those Mickey Mouse lollipops too. I think I’ve seen bubble wands on social media, so we have to find those. Oh, and definitely get Mickey Mouse pretzels.”
West is staring at me. “Anything else?”
I nod. “Take lots pictures. We need pictures of everything. Even the meltdowns. Especially the meltdowns. They’re hilarious in retrospect.”
West lifts Charlie onto his shoulders, and she squeals with delight.
“I’m so tall!” she shouts. “I can see everything!”
“What can you see?” West asks.
“Castle! And rides! And Mickey!”
“Should we go find Mickey?”
“Yes!”
And we’re off.
The next few hours blur together in the best possible way. We ride the teacups twice because Charlie insists the purple one goes faster. We wait in line for forty-five minutes to meet MickeyMouse, and Charlie’s so excited she forgets how to speak. Emma discovers that churros are the greatest invention in human history and insists on more, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.
