Page 82 of For The Weekend
“Now, we bake,” I agree with a laugh.
I received a text message from Roman that June was sick and Riley was working, so he didn’t have anyone to pick Mazie up from her after-school care and asked if I could. Happy that he asked me, I immediately agreed and made plans for me to go to their place to have dinner andhang out.
It’s not until after I’ve had a snuggle with Steve and cut up an apple for him and Mazie to share that I accidentally find a letter. It’s while I’m picking through his kitchen, because I’m obsessed with finding out whatever I can about the man I apparently love, and I spy the envelope tucked in a napkin holder with a bunch of other paperwork, like bills, receipts, and coupons for a sandwich shop downtown.
Too curious for my own good, I open it, careful not to rip the envelope any more than it already is, and unfold the paper.
My heart is a drumline in my chest as I skim it, finding who I already have guessed it’s from: Amy. I’m not sure when she sent this or if Roman responded to it, but the words are a mix of heartache and hope, a desperate attempt to reach out to the family she’s been separated from. She talks about missing Mazie and how she wishes Roman would stop being so stubborn. She also calls him an asshole, which I don’t find helpful, but the more the lines of her handwriting slant, the more emotional she becomes. A plea for forgiveness, a writtenscreamto be able to see her child.
It guts me, and my hands tremble slightly as I fold it back up and place it in the envelope like I never touched it, but I can’t forget it.
The stark reminder of the complexity of their lives, the pain that lingers in the background. It’s not my place to pry, but the words in that letter have touched something in me, a newfound tenderness for the woman whose choices have led to so much heartache.
Of course I can understand Roman’s anger and pain, butit’s impossible for me not to feel bad for Amy as well. She made bad choices, and now she’s paying for them, but for how long does she need to?
I can’t think about the question too long because the front door opens, and Roman steps inside, bringing with him the crisp scent of autumn air. I poke my head out of the kitchen, and his eyes find mine immediately. There’s a warmth in his gaze that tells me I’m exactly where he wants me to be.
I meet him by the door, sneaking a kiss. He pinches my chin in the now familiar gesture. “Hi, sunshine.”
“Hi.”
“Thanks for picking her up.”
“Whenever you need me to, I’m here,” I say, and he answers with another kiss then kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat on the hook next to the front door.
“Hey, Maze.” Roman holds his arms out, and she runs into him so he can pick her up, swinging her around until she shrieks in glee. He kisses her head and cheek before setting her back down. “Hungry for dinner?”
“Yes!”
He holds out his palm for a high five. “No cursing that time, nice.”
She slaps it, yelling, “Fuck yeah!”
I hide my laugh, and Roman heaves a sigh, heading toward the kitchen, mumbling his own curses.
When I try to help Roman with the food, he sends me away to keep Steve and Mazie company in the living room, so I spend the next hour watchingBeauty and the Beastwhile my mouth waters because of the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen.
“This smells so good,” I tell him when he finally calls us to the table, set with our plates, glasses of water, and a big pot of chicken and rice in the middle. He gestures for us to sit downthen scoops me out a generous serving. “I’m seriously impressed.”
“Don’t be.” He fills Mazie’s pink plate and then adds two scoops to his own. “Mostly everything I make has five ingredients or less.”
“Well, I hate cooking, so it looks like you’ll be making all our meals,” I blurt before I think better of it and freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth.
Roman merely lifts his huge shoulder, his eyes shining, lips quirked to the side, not at all offended by my proclamation. “Guess so.”
During dinner, Mazie chatters on about her day at school, her friends, and how she wants a leash for Steve so she can take him for a walk, but Roman immediately vetoes that idea. I stay out of the argument, hiding my amusement by stuffing more of Roman’s delicious dinner into my mouth.
Afterward, he announces it’s bedtime. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, so much like her father’s. “Will you read to me tonight, Eloise?”
“Yes, of course,” I reply, meeting Roman’s eyes over her head, seeing nothing but acceptance and love in his gaze. There is no second-guessing. I smile at his daughter. “I’d love to.”
I leave Roman to clean up the kitchen while Mazie changes into her PJs, brushes her teeth, and then we settle into her bed, the book about a cat and a unicorn throwing a party spread out between us. It’s silly and cute, and she knows almost all the words, mouthing them with me as I read. And when I finish, she tucks the comforter more fully around herself, asking quietly, “Stay with me a little while?”
“Always,” I answer and kiss her head, but it’s barely five minutes before she’s asleep, her breaths even and deep.
When I return to the living room, Roman’s waiting for me on the couch, but instead of pulling me down with him like Iexpect, he stands and wraps his arms around my waist. “Thanks for doing that. It means a lot to her. To both of us.”
“Thanks for letting me. I think…” Stopping myself from admitting something I’m not sure I’m ready to say out loud—that I love him and his daughter—I say, “I think if I had a kid, I’d want her to be like Mazie. You’ve raised a great girl.”
