She hops down in another puff of glitter. “Oh yeah.” She turns to me. “Do you wanna come grocery shopping with us?”
“Uh—” both her father and I begin at the same time.
“I’m sure AP Sanchez is extremely busy,” he then says, while I, for some inexplicable reason, think of my mom and ask?—
“The one two blocks from here?”
FOUR
Dominic
I knewand remembered that she was gorgeous from the front, but at this moment, I decide that Lina from the Back should be its own Wonder of the World.
She walks ahead with Frankie, the two of them chatting like they’re old college friends who haven’t seen each other in a while and they are catching up on years’ worth of news and gossip.
This is fine with me, because I can walk behind them and wonder how well the eighth Wonder of the World would fit in my hands. They’d fill them quite nicely, probably, with the perfect amount of overflow, considering the size and the shape and the generous amount of movement with every step.
What are the fucking odds? Well, I suppose pretty high actually, considering Lina was at Ollie and Georgia’s housewarming, both of whom have deep ties to PS 2, but did she have to be so fucking beautiful, too? What are the odds of that?
Lina turns to check I’m still behind them and catches me staring. Instead of getting all embarrassed like I did, her gorgeous mouth takes the shape of a shit-eating grin.
Which goes straight to my dick.
It also, however, goes the other way and kicks my ass and reminds me in big billboard letters that I have a five-year-old daughter who is entirely dependent on me and I won’t be fucking around, thank you very much.
It was nice to imagine, though, just for a second. Lina looked at me like I was a piece of meat, and I really liked it, okay? Until she laid eyes on Frankie, I was just a regular, uncomplicated guy at a party, in a cafe, and not a dad who is in permanent need of a nap or a Xanax or both at the same time.
In a dark turn of events, I begin to think about the woman who was, whois, Frankie’s mother. How hot she was, too, how good that one night was. But I force myself to remember then, the way in which she abandoned her daughter with a complete stranger. The work and the struggle I’ve had, amazing or not, to raise Frankie myself because of the mistake my dick made. I think of Viv, how I thought she was it, the one. The ring I bought her. Then I think of the twist in her face right before she stormed out of our lives for good, with a firm, “This is not what I signed up for,” and “I don’t want to be this baby’s mother, Dom.”
I’m clearly an awful fucking judge of character when it comes to women, and this thought is enough for me to wrench my eyes from Lina’s ass and the dip of her waist and stare straight ahead.
At her hair, which is a mass of heavy curls that I want to hold in my hands, too.
“Do you have a list?” Lina is asking Frankie. “You seem like the kind of gal who would have a list.”
Frankie rolls her eyes. “Of course I have a list.” She walks behind me and points up at the backpack I have slung around one shoulder. “Can I have my backpack, Daddy?”
I take it off and hand it to her, and she places it on the dirty Brooklyn sidewalk to rifle through it, while Lina and I stand like sentinels or a pair of well-adjusted parents around her. I try my hardest not to look at Lina’s tits, because I am the respectful father to a daughter. Frankie pulls out a piece of paper crumpled into a small ball and hands it to Lina, who has to peel it open to read it.
Lina’s heart-shaped face is surprised. I know it’s heart-shaped, because I’ve spent an unnatural amount of time mapping every inch of it in the thirty minutes we’ve been together. “Wow, Frankie. Did you do this all yourself?” she asks.
“Daddy helped me with the letters.”
Frankie is still working on her writing, so I have her draw the grocery item, and next to it we put the first letter of the item. The first item is a crudely drawn carton of blueberries with the letter B next to it.
I’m actually good at this whole parenting thing, I hope this conveys to Lina. She gives me nothing, though, except for a hint of surprise, which is incredibly disappointing considering I dedicate every hour I’m not working to being better at the whole parenting thing.
My phone rings when we’re a few feet away from the store. I glance down, frowning when I see it’s the CFO of my manufacturing startup.
“It’s Sunday,” I tell Greg, instead of hello.
“I know. I’m sorry, but—” he begins.
“I’m with my daughter right now, Greg,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Lina glances back at me, eyebrows furrowed. I send her a tight smile.
“Frankie, can you get started on our list?” I ask my daughter as we walk into the store. “I’m right behind you. I just need to take this. Don’t bother AP Sanchez. I’m sure she has her own shopping to do.”
