Page 86 of Chasing Love: The Owens
Her eyes linger a little longer, taking Leia in before venturing back to hand in the order.
Silence falls over the table for a moment.
I take a breath, then another, and lean forward on my elbows. “Leia?”
She glances at me. “Yeah?”
I run my hands together. “Can I ask you something, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer?”
“Okay.”
I nod, steadying myself, but I don’t want to pretend we’re not both struggling here. “How do you feel about me being your dad?”
Her eyes dip to the table, and I figure I’m not going to get an answer. Finally, she shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fair,” I say quietly. “You didn’t get a say in any of it.”
She blinks fast. “You’re different than him.”
I try to give her a reassuring nod. “I am. Does that bother you?”
She shakes her head, then she must be giving herself a little pep talk inside because she straightens her gaze to meet mine. “Is it bad that I still love him?”
That hits harder than I expect. I shake my head slowly. “No. Not at all. I’m sure he loves you too. Sometimes adults do bad things, but what he did has nothing to do with how much he loves you. Being a dad, I can guarantee that.”
“But I’m mad at him too.”
My chest squeezes. “Understandable.”
“I like you.” God, I feel like I’m in gym class and was the first picked for a team. “Wren loves you. You seem nice.”
“Thank you.”
After a long pause, she says, “I want to get to know you better.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I say. “We can go as slow as you need. But, Leia, I want to be here. For real. Not just because I’m supposed to be. Because I want to know who you are. What you love. What you hate. Everything.”
She smiles, and my heart warms like a ray of sunshine just rose over the horizon.
“I love butterflies,” she says. “Did Wren tell you that?”
“She did,” I say sheepishly, ashamed I had to ask anyone else what my daughter likes. “But I wish I had heard it from you.”
“Did Wren tell you about Kayla beating the boys at basketball during recess today?”
“She didn’t, but I’d love to hear it.”
Leia starts in by wiggling in her seat to get more comfortable, then she gives me the whole story, much like Wren does but in a more methodical and less excitable way. I hang on every word, studying her cadence and little hitches or small words she adds.
God, she’s a little Delaney.
Marge brings over our ice cream sundaes, and Leia gets onto her knees, picking up her spoon.
She eyes mine. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Do you want to try some?” I slide it closer, and she dips her spoon in and takes a taste.
“It’s okay. I don’t like those hard things,” she says, scooping her own sundae on her spoon. Then she stops and glances at me. “Did you want to try mine?”
