Page 126 of Daring the Hockey Player
Amelia giggles and smiles the biggest grin, pointing at my head. “Troll hair.”
“Can you draw me a troll?” Clare asks.
Amelia nods and reaches for the purple crayon, gripping it tight as she begins coloring on the blank white paper.
I breathe a sigh of relief and run my hand through my unkempt hair, trying to fix the mess before our plane lands. There’s enough press in New York to spot me the minute I step off the plane, and I don’t need ridiculous pictures in the newspaper and on social media of me with troll hair.
As it is, I’ll have to put out a press release and make a public announcement about Amelia before I’m bludgeoned with accusations.
Clare gives me a thousand-watt smile, but it’s clearly forced. She turns around and heads toward the stewardess, saying something quietly to her.
Both of their eyes latch on me before looking away.
I’m used to the stares and curiosity. She must have realized that I’m billionaire Levi Luxenberg. I’ve been on magazine covers and interviewed by celebrities. I’m used to the attention. Usually, I ignore it.
But now I’m not just looking after myself. I have Amelia, and I can’t keep my daughter a secret. I just have to ask everyone to respect our privacy.
I keep an eye on the stewardess once Clare is back in her seat, making sure no one is snapping photos of Amelia and me on the plane together.
Thirty minutes later, Clare turns around to check on Amelia. “How’s the drawing?”
Amelia is still very hard at work on her troll drawing. I didn’t expect much, but the kid has a knack for artwork. She doesn’t answer Clare, but that’s okay because I know that she can, and eventually, she’ll speak when she’s ready.
The stewardess brings Clare a mini bottle of vodka, and she mixes it with orange juice, holding it while talking. I haven’t been paying attention to how much she’s been drinking in front of us, but this isn’t the first drink that she’s been served.
I opted to get Amelia an apple juice, which she’s sipped a few times.
Clare’s cheeks are red and her lips glossy. “I wish we could stay in the air forever, just keep flying.”
“Why?” Amelia asks, glancing up from her crayons.
My kid seems to be enthralled with the tipsy woman seated in the row in front of us. Great.
“I don’t want to face New York. After a loveless marriage and finally growing the balls to leave my narcissistic and emotionally abusive ex, I have to find a job and a home with nothing lined up. I spent six years as a preschool teacher, and I loved every minute of it. But the minute we got married,hemade me leave my job. He didn’t like that I wasn’t home when he wasn’t home. Afraid that I’d have a life outside of him. Jealous douch—” She slaps a hand over her mouth and looks at Amelia. “Oops, I meant jealous guy.”
Mostly unfazed, she continues to ramble, not the least bit done with her overshare.
“My best friend let me stay in Chicago with her during the divorce, but I’ve worn out my welcome. Newlyweds,” she says with a laugh. “See why I’d rather just stay in the air and fly free?”
“And you thought spending money on a first-class plane ticket would be smart?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I stole these airline miles from my ex.”
I offer a wayward smile. “Good for you.”
Amelia stares up at Clare, perplexed. I imagine that most of that went right over the kid’s head.
“What are your plans when you land in New York?” I ask.
She sips the orange juice and vodka from the clear plastic cup. “I don’t know. I’ve been in survival mode for the past eight months. My ex bled me dry with the divorce. I’ll probably flip burgers or something and sleep in a cardboard box.”
Amelia hands the troll drawing to Clare.
“Is this for me?” Clare asks with wide eyes. Amelia nods. “Why don’t you give it to your dad? I’ll bet he’d like to hang it on the fridge.”
“I don’t have a dad,” Amelia whispers, staring up at Clare.
My stomach clenches at her remark. “I’m her father,” I say, clearing my throat.
