Page 5 of His for the Taking

“I thought Daddy was paying the bill.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“He is, but I don’t want seafood today. So, there.” We start walking again. The silence between us doesn’t bother me; it’s kind of nice not to fill it up with useless chatter.

“I missed this, Mom, a lot, and I’m really glad I’m home.” I move my head to her shoulder as we walk. The inches Mom has on me allow it. It’s times like this with her I’ve missed the most, not the shopping. The talking about nothing and everything, giving her shit and her dishing it right back. The being in our small town and running into one another, random moments in time. It was hard when we lived states apart. Sure, we’d see each other when I’d fly down or they’d fly up, but it’s not the same.

“Well, you don’t have to miss it anymore. And my God, Kody, Richie was just awful,” she admits.

“Wait, you never liked him? Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, shocked because this is the first time I’m hearing about how she feels about my ex-husband.

“Honey, no one liked him. Not me, not your father, and certainly not your brother. He always gave me the ick, like he was trying too hard to be something he wasn’t. Anyways, your father and I talked, and we decided the best course of action was to stay quiet. Remember when you were a teenager, and we’d say no? You’d figure out a way to do it anyways. Well, we didn’t want to lose you by saying something about your husband. Though, to be honest, I wish I had now, thinking back on it. You’d have moved home a hell of a lot sooner, or maybe that’s me projecting what I wanted all along.

“Wow, I’m shocked. No one let on, well, except for Shaun. He’d make comments here or there. He always did, no matter who I was with.” I’m stunned, but at the end of the day, my mom is right. I didn’t see the red flags, and I damn sure wouldn’t have listened. My blinders were fully on for the entirety of that rollercoaster until I was ready to get off.

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re home, right where you belong.”

“I am. Now let’s go see the damage we can do on Daddy’s card and have a good time,” I suggest, washing away the heaviness of our conversation.

“Let’s do that.” We continue our path, shutting the door on Richie yet again. Only I hope this time, it’s for good.

7

JAMESON

“Josephine, you almost ready?” I ask while cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast. Yesterday, we hung out with my parents until about lunchtime, then we had to stop by the grocery store to stock up on food for the week. Next time, I’ll remember to go without the snack monster. The bill was double than what it usually is, and now the fridge and pantry are filled with an overabundance of food.

“Yeah!” she yells through the house. It’s a good thing we live on a little bit of land on the outskirts of town instead of in town, where the houses are on zero lot lines. Josephine would wake up the whole development with the way she’s carrying on.

“Inside voice.” At this age, she’s got two octaves: high or low. I make a mental note to bring it up with her doctor at her next check-up, wondering if this is normal for an almost two-year-old. I’m sure it is, and I’m sure the worry in my gut will eventually settle down some.

“Daddy, here.” Josephine runs down the hall from her bedroom. She may be nearing two, but tell that to her independence. There’s no me picking out her outfit. It’s JoJo’s way or no way.

“Ponytail or pigtails?” Either way, they both suck for me. There’s no easy way to loop anything with the damn tiny-ass rubber ties with what I'm working with in the way of hands.

“Hmmm.” She puts her finger to her mouth, pondering what kind of catastrophe I’m going to make of her hair today. A day when we’ve got to get a move on in order to check out the three schools Emma put down for us to tour. After work on Saturday, Josephine stayed with my parents per her request, but I was going to ask anyway since it was poker night at my brother's. I came home to the house being entirely too damn quiet without JoJo’s chattering, toys going off, or cartoons in the background. Needless to say, my shower was quick, and so was scarfing down a sandwich, getting redressed, and hitting the road.

“A braid?” God, I fucking hope not. We’ll be late to the first school for sure if that’s the case.

“No, no, pony,” she demands.

“Vacuum trick?” I look at the clock on the oven. We’ve got five more minutes before we’ll be pushing it to make it on time.

“No, tanks.” Probably a good thing considering I’ll have to dig it out, which would take me even longer.

“Alrighty, then.” Her arms reach up for me to pick her up. Those little legs of Jo’s are wiggling back and forth like she needs them to propel herself in the air. I sit her down on the kitchen counter without having to tell her to spin around. Thankfully, she zones out on cartoons while I pull a wide-tooth comb through her blonde curls. Tender headed she is not. We’d be in a shit ton of trouble if that were the case. Josephine’s hair takes on a life of its own after a night of moving non-stop in her bed.

“Daddy, no school.” My hands are attempting to gather her hair in one bunch at the back of her head.

“What? I thought you wanted to go check out the school’s Mommy picked out.” I let her hair fall from where I had it in one hand, fighting with the elastic with the other.

“No school, Daddy,” she reiterates, spinning around with the help of her feet, which are still bare because getting dressed does not include shoes for Josephine. My girl hates her feet being inside socks or shoes. Sandals are what she prefers when something on her feet is an absolute must. But for the most part, she wants to be barefoot and in a dress of some kind with her hair down. It’s a miracle she lets me put her hair up some days.

“Why?” I ask, befuddled since this is the first time she’s making it known that she doesn’t want to look at schools. Emma made it seem that JoJo was excited, and it was me dragging my feet through the mud.

“Me no want to.” Well, fuck me sideways with a damn spoon. I can’t say I blame her, and while this was all Emma’s idea, making me feel like I should keep the appointments, if my daughter doesn’t want to go, why should I make her?

“Yeah, I don’t want you to either.” The admission leaves my mouth when I should have held back. Oh, fucking well, the gut feeling I had obviously was there for a reason.

“See, wet’s go to da park!” she squeals excitedly. Her l’s come off more like w’s. She is too damn cute. I contemplate what we should do. The park is any parent's version of hell. A bunch of kids running around, drool and snot coming from some, it’s a petri dish. There’s zero chill. How some parents can sit and watch their kids while catching up, I have no idea. Meanwhile, I’m running after Josephine, worried she’ll fall or a bigger kid might knock her down, or God fucking forbid someone tries to take off with my girl.

---