Page 78 of For The Weekend
I tug on a lock of her hair. “Watch your mouth in front of the kids, sunshine.”
She snorts, nodding sarcastically. “Okay.”
“So much attitude,” I mumble. “I’m not sure if I want that rubbing off on my daughter.”
She gasps, pretending to be shocked before socking me in the shoulder. “Mazie loves me.”
“You’re right,” I say, all the humor gone from my voice. “She does.”
I think I do too.
But that is fucking bananas, and no way am I going to admit that out loud. Instead, I clear my throat and move on. “What about your dad?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning against my sideonce again, waving at Mazie when she calls our names at the top of the slide. I should probably be more cautious of letting her see us being so physical together, but I think Mazie likes it.
She certainly doesn’t seem confused or upset by it.
Because after she slides down, she runs over to us, a leaf in her hand. “Look at this! Here.” She hands it to Eloise. “Hold this for me.”
“How ’bout you use some manners?” I interject, and she tries again.
“Hold it for me,please.”
Eloise laughs at her overenunciation. “Yes, of course I will.”
“Watch me,” Mazie tells her. “I’m gonna go down the slide again. Watch me, okay?”
And she does. Eloise never takes her attention off my daughter as she climbs the ladder then pivots around to make sure Eloise is indeed looking. The woman straight out of my dreams next to me points to her eyes then at my daughter. “I’m watching!”
Mazie shrieks and goes down the slide with her arms up. “Did you see?” she yells. “I went so fast!”
Eloise claps. “Awesome job, babe!”
Mazie smiles brightly and zips off to run across the planks to the tower in the corner, and Eloise turns to me as if she didn’t grind the last bit of fight I had against my growing feelings for her to dust. She tips her head to the side, hitting me with a cute, distracted scowl. “What were we talking about?”
“Your dad.”
“Right.” She snaps her fingers. “Yeah, my dad… He’s supportive.”
“That sounded like a question.”
“No, he is,” she says but then backtracks. “Kinda.” When I stare at her blankly, she circles her hands in the air. “It’s hard to describe because he’s the kind of dad who’d give me a pony if Iwanted, but then he won’t say anything to my mom about me or jump in to defend me. So what’s the point of the pony, you know?”
I‘ve never had the kind of money to be able to buy somebody a pony, but I understand the sentiment.
“He thinks he can throw money at a problem,” she goes on, although that immediately sets me on edge.
“You’re not a problem to solve.”
She scrunches up her face. “Maybe a little bit.”
“Not even a fucking crumb of a bit, Eloise. Do we need to play our game for real? ’Cause I’ll take you home right now, woman. Don’t?—”
She quiets me with her index finger against my lips. “This isn’t a confidence thing. This is a reality that I have to live with. I do need to find ways to live my daily life that are not typical for other people. I have problems I need to solve, and my dad is unlike my mom in that he knows it. He believes me when I say I need help, and he’s more than happy to write me a check. He’s more than happy to pay off my student loans then lend me money to open my bakery. He’s more than happy to buy me an electric toothbrush or smartwatch or robot vacuum. Anything to make my life easier, except what Ireallyneed.”
“Somebody to tell your mom to fuck off,” I say, and she nods.
“More or less.”
