As I stand at the East 66thStreet entrance to Central Park, I can’t help but wonder who I am right now. It’s Sunday morning. I’m not hungover at all. Dressed in sneakers, leggings, and a matching crop with an oversized jean jacket and a ball cap, my hair left in its natural waves, my face completely free of makeup, with nothing but moisturizer and SPF, and I’m here, waiting for Happy Slater and his five-year-old daughter to just… hang out.
Even Toast Malone is here, sitting patiently by my feet, wearing his blinged-out collar and his matching sparkly harness, happily accepting the attention he garners from every passer-by. When I asked Happy if Toasty could tag along, Happy asked Lucky while I was on the phone, and the sound of excitement that came from that little girl was infectious, so it’s only right that Toast is here in his sparkly Sunday best.
After last night, things feel different between me and Happy. The text message I woke up to this morning from him is one I will cherish forever. Because last night, when his daughter was in need and he couldn’t be there, I stepped in. I was the person she asked for. Me. And, sure, I might have freaked out over that fact at least a few times in the hours since, but in a world sounfamiliar, so foreign, so scary, in Lucky’s eyes, I’m a safe person. And I didn’t think something like that would have the ability to affect me the way it has, but I am so down bad—if not for Happy, then definitely for his little Lucky Duck.
“There she is.”
Right on time, I hear a familiar deep voice behind me, and I spin around to find Happy walking toward me, Lucky clutching his hand, looking wary of everything going on around her until her gaze meets Toast and her little face lights up.
Happy is disguised behind dark-tinted Ray Bans and a ball cap, dressed just like any other average Joe in a pair of black athletic shorts and a white long-sleeved t-shirt sporting the Yankees logo across the chest. Lucky, on the other hand, appears to have gone all out with her ensemble: a pair of bright pink tights, a rainbow tulle skirt, a t-shirt with Stitch fromLilo and Stitchon the front, her hair in braids entwined with rainbow ribbon, and she wears a sparkly backpack and matching sparkly sneakers. Adorable.
“Hi!” I wave, smiling from Happy to Lucky as she lets go of her daddy’s hand and unexpectedly wraps her little arms around me.
I crouch down to reciprocate, and I see her side-eye Toast Malone before she leans in and whispers, “Can I pet your dog?”
“Thank you for asking, Lucky,” I say, genuinely taken aback, because not often do people stop to ask. And while Toasty wouldn’t hurt a fly unless I instructed him to do so, it’s baffling the amount of grown adults who should know better, that pet him without stopping to check if it’s okay first. “You sure can.” I nod, leaning in and lowering my voice to a whisper as I say, “He loves a good scratch behind his ears.”
I watch closely as Lucky tentatively reaches closer, clearly hesitant. Toast waits patiently. And when her hand hits the hot spot, his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he basks in her attention.
Standing back up, I find Happy right there, almost touchingme, but not quite. And although I can’t see his eyes, I can tell he’s staring directly into mine, a faint smile playing on his lips as he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear, “Hi, Baby Draper.”
My cheeks heat from his closeness and the use of the name I’ve come to love rolling off his tongue. Flustered, I readjust my ball cap for no reason at all and press my lips together in a smile, looking around for what, I have no idea.
“So,” I start, clearing my suddenly dry throat. “What do you guys feel like doing?”
Lucky snaps her head up, and Toast Malone grumbles in protest at the loss of her fingers from behind his ears. “I want to see everything! The fountain, the castle, the squirrels, the boats. Everything.”
“Oh, wow, you have a whole list.” I laugh.
“It’s her… first time at the park,” Happy says, touching Lucky’s shoulder, and when my eyes lift to him, I don’t miss the slight wince of guilt that crosses his features. I assume he probably feels bad for living right across the street and never bringing her here. And I get it. But I also know he has his reasons, and I offer him a reassuring wink.
“Well, we better make it extra fun then, huh?” I grin down at Lucky, and she nods excitedly.
We turn and head into the park, and I’m stopped in my tracks when I feel Lucky’s little hand slide into mine. I try to act cool, but it’s hard, and when I glance sideways to find Happy smirking like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, again my cheeks heat.
“Is that okay?” he asks quietly, nodding to where Lucky holds my hand.
I nod, desperately reigning in the overwhelming emotion that threatens to break what little composure I have left as I say, “Better than okay.”
After seeing as many of the Central Park sights that we could fit in before Lucky started to get tired legs and ended up riding on Happy’s shoulders, we found a patch of green grass beneath the shade of a sugar maple in the Sheep Meadow, the sun shining down from a sky so blue it’s almost unnatural. Happy went off with Toast Malone in search of a vendor to grab a bite to eat, so it’s just Lucky and me, relaxing together while basking in the sunshine and the peacefulness of the meadow as the Manhattan skyscrapers loom on the outskirts, a true juxtaposition.
“Hannah?”
I lift my head at the sound of Lucky’s sweet voice. “Yeah, babe?”
She doesn’t look at me, her head resting on my stomach, her hands fidgeting with the soft ear of her Bluey plushy. “Are you my daddy’s girlfriend?”
My eyes widen, and I glance over my shoulder, scanning the vast meadow for Happy, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Toast probably stopped for two shits and fourteen pisses so, unfortunately, it looks like on my own.
“Um…n-no,” I answer truthfully. “We’re just… we’re friends.”
“Oh,” Lucky says on a sigh, and the way her shoulders fall makes me regret not pretending I was asleep just now to avoid having to answer her question.
I consider myself, but before I can flail and probably put my foot in my mouth, Lucky speaks. “I wish you were Daddy’s girlfriend.”
“You do?”
She nods. “Yeah. Because you’re so pretty, and you have a doggie.”
