I shrug. “I pay attention.”
“You…” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now. “You’re really something, you know that?”
“Is that a yes to the trampoline park?”
“It’s definitely a yes.” She reaches up and cups my face with both hands. “She’s going to be so excited. She’s been trying so hard to make friends at the new school, and I know it’s been slow going for her. This will really help.”
“That’s what I figured. Plus, I’ve never been to a trampoline park. It could be fun for all of us.”
“You’re going to jump on trampolines?”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a professional athlete who needs to protect his body.”
“I’ll be careful.” I pull her closer. “Besides, I want to spend the day with the two of you, doing normal family stuff.”
Her eyes get a little shiny, and I realize what I’ve just said. Family stuff. Like we’re a family.
But instead of backtracking or clarifying, I just wait. Because it’s true. That’s what this feels like—that’s what I want it to be, anyway.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a family day.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She kisses me, soft and sweet. “I appreciate you so much. For listening and remembering and caring about what matters to her.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I know, but I want to anyway.”
We stand there for another moment, just holding each other, before she finally pulls back.
“I should go wake up April and tell her the plan. She’s going to lose her mind.”
“Good.” I let go of her reluctantly. “I’ll make breakfast.”
She heads upstairs, and I move to the fridge, already planning out what to make. Pancakes, probably. April loves pancakes.
It only takes a few minutes before I hear an excited scream from upstairs, followed quickly by April’s animated chatter that never fails to filter through the whole house.
I love that she has questions and opinions about everything, and I want to encourage that side of her, to let her explore the world around her and find the place where she feels like she fits in the most.
She’s so excited for the trampoline park that she doesn’t stop talking through the entire breakfast. Or once we’ve finished breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and are heading out the door.
“Sophie said there’s a foam pit you can jump into, and Mason said there’s dodgeball on trampolines, and Emma said there’s this thing where you can dunk a basketball while jumping?—”
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Heather says, laughing as she helps April into her jacket.
“I am breathing! I’m just so excited! Can we really invite someone? Like, can I ask Sophie if she wants to come?”
“Sure,” Heather says. “I’ll text her mom on the way.”
The excitement continues all the way to the truck. April climbs into the backseat, still chattering about foam pits and basketball hoops and whether or not she’ll be brave enough to try the high-jump trampolines.
I pull out of the driveway, and Heather suddenly frowns, then reaches up to adjust the visor.
“Is everything okay?” I ask even though I already know where this is going.
