Page 33 of Spoil
“Just think about it? Please? I want to see you do what’s right foryoufor once,” she says, and I wince at the implied statement.
“I will, Cara. I promise.”
More silence.
“Alright, babes. I’m going to head to bed. I’ll text you in the morning. ‘Night, beautiful,” I say. Cara struggles to develop relationships with men because of her autism, so I alwaysmake sure to send her“good morning, beautiful and good night, beautiful”text messages. She always rolls her eyes at me, though, at the asinine thought that she could need affirming texts, but I send them anyway.
“‘Night, love,” she replies before hanging up. I sneak back into our basement and lock the doors behind me. I tiptoe over to our “bedroom” and watch Danny’s soft brown curls as she sleeps. Uneasiness settles deep in the pit of my stomach.
Iknowwe didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Iknowkids ask for dumb stuff. But I look at my sleeping baby and know deep in my bones that if she asked for something, within reason, and I had the ability to give it to her, I would without hesitation. Even if I couldn’t afford it or it was frivolous, I would sit her down and explain why I couldn’t give it to her. I wouldn’t ever want her to feel like a burden. I recall my father’s long, loud sigh whenever I asked him a question. I remember how disappointed I would get when he would deny me that small ounce of connection to the only family member I had.
And as I lie on my back, arm propped behind my head, the exposed floor joists of the first floor illuminated softly by a nightlight, my mind spins.
Thoughts of lazy Saturday mornings making pancakes with Daniel, daddy-daughter dances, someone to hold me and love me, someone to love Danny, a beautiful home, a beautiful family - made from love and respect and not obligation.
But could all that be mine? Ours? Could I let us hope for something that seems so out of reach?
I toss and turn with these warring thoughts and ideas until the early hours of the morning.
Without a single answer
Chapter sixteen
Daniel
Iring the doorbell at 5:30 the next evening to pick up my girls. I’m in dark jeans and a dark grey t-shirt. Normally, I’d wear a suit on a date, but I know Nell’s uncomfortable with our income gap. I did bring flowers, though. You always bring flowers.
She answers the door with an excited smile, eyes twinkling, and my heart races. She’s so goddamn beautiful.
Danny peeks around behind her legs and stares up at me with her mama’s gorgeous green eyes.
I kneel, handing Danny the smaller bouquet I’d brought. She looks up to her mama for approval, and Nell nods. She takes them with an almost inaudible ‘thank you’. I rise and hand Nell the bigger bouquet, dropping a kiss to her cheek.
“Thank you, Daniel. They’re beautiful. I’ve never gotten flowers before.” She spins and grabs Danny’s hand to lead her back into the kitchen. I take the opportunity to peek at where my girls are living. Danny gave me the four-year-old’s version of a tour this morning, but she’d forgotten the front camera was on, so all I got was a tour of the underside of Danny’s nose and the ceiling.
To the right, a large staircase leads up to the top floor, where I’m assuming the bedrooms are. To the right of that is a formal sitting room. To the left, a formal dining room. I follow them back into the kitchen and peer around that, too. The kitchen is large, with an island and a breakfast nook. Beyond that is a sunken living room with a large brick fireplace. Everything seems up to date and comfortable. I’m glad to know they’re living well.
Nell seems to be rushing to get the flowers set up. There’s an anxiety in her movements that is new. I’m about to ask her if she’s alright when she spins again, grabs her oversized purse, and drags both Danny and me to the door.
“We’re heading out! Don’t wait up!” she shouts up the stairs to, I’m assuming, Gen.
I hold the door open for them before rounding the back of the car and opening the door for Danny. She climbs in, and I hesitate. Do four-year-olds buckle themselves in? I researched where the straps are supposed to go, and even had the fire department inspect the installation, but I forgot about the straps.
Would it be weird if I buckled her in? A still relatively strange man touching her? Shit, there are so many things I’d never considered with parenting. I’d watched Declan and Serenity struggle through colic and colds, and bottles and teething, but I guess I never appreciated how many layers there are to parenting.
“Um... can I buckle you in, or is that a mommy thing?”
“I can do it,” she tells me matter-of-factly. So, I watch her wrestle the buckle with her tiny hands and double-check that it’s across her chest properly, before closing her door gently and opening the door for her mom, who waited patiently for me, clutching her oversized mom-bag.
“That’s okay, right?” I ask her quickly. She nods and sits in the car.
As I back out, I rest my arm across the back of Nell’s seat. She goes rigid beside me, but when I check on her, she’s looking at my forearm resting against the steering wheel. That’s right, my girl’s got a thing for forearms. I squeeze a fist, just to make some veins pop, and I watch as she squirms in her seat. I really need to work out in front of her. Shirtless, naturally.
“So, I figured we could hit up The Steak and Egg diner for dinner and then I got us tickets to the latest Pixar movie... what was it called?”
“Shiner?!” Danny asks from the background.
“That’s the one.”
