"Sophia?"
"Yeah. I asked her if she could come with us today, but she said that sometimes, it's hard for her to go to crowded places."
She asked Sophia to join us today? Why would she do that? When did she do that?
"Yeah. I think a lot of people might recognize her, and sometimes, it's better to keep the attention focused on the museum exhibits."
"I think Sophia would go to space. She loves adventure, and taking risks, and trying new things."
I help Hazel into the car and buckle her into her booster, but my mind is still turning over what she said. It's true that great risk equals great reward.
I've always avoided risk and calculated every move. Relationships, love—I've treated them the way I treat everything else. Measured. Controlled. Safe. And I assumed Sophia was the same. That she'd want something steady, predictable. That she'd never be the type to take a leap without knowing exactly where she'd land.
But Hazel is right. Sophia does take risks. She's throwing herself into this film, into new challenges, intosomething she can't control but believes in anyway. She's willing to fail if it means chasing something that matters.
And I'm the one who assumed she wouldn't.
Because I wouldn't.
Because I told myself love—real love, the kind that takes over your life—wasn't worth the fall.
But now I'm wondering…what if I'm wrong?
When we pull up to the house, I see Sophia's car in the driveway, and my heart skips a beat. I've spent almost every evening with her, and it still doesn't feel like enough.
"I'm going to show Sophia my space station!"
Hazel has her seatbelt unbuckled before I turn the car off.
"Hang on a minute. We don't know if she has plans. It's not polite to bother her if she's busy."
"She's never busy when I visit her."
"When do you visit her?"
"Dad, I see Sophia every day! She's our guest. It would be rude to ignore her."
My mind is reeling at this new information. A sense of panic creeps in at the idea that Hazel is getting too attached to Sophia. What if it doesn't work out between us? The last thing I'd want is to hurt Hazel.
"I didn't realize you went to visit her so much."
"Oh, yeah. Most days, she's here when I get home from school, and we have a snack together, and sometimes, I come over in the mornings to bring her a Pop-Tart. She loves them."
"And you see her every day?"
"Almost. Don't you?"
And just like that, I'm irritated. I'm irritated my daughter might be getting attached to a person I'm just sleeping with.My mind has tripped into an irrational space, and now I'm questioning if Sophia is trying to get closer to me by getting closer to my daughter. Is she giving Hazel the wrong idea about us?
I follow Hazel over to Sophia's door and watch as Sophia's face lights up when she sees Hazel outside. She steps outside to greet us.
"Hey, nugget! How are you today? Did you have fun at the science museum?"
My jaw tenses at Sophia's use of my nickname for Hazel. That's my name for her. I know I'm being ridiculous right now, but something has me on edge, with irritation and distrust firing through my veins.
"Oh, yeah. We saw a space capsule where the astronauts live when they are working on the space station, and look what my dad got me!"
She lifts the Lego kit up, and the look of pure elation makes it hard to stay in my anger for a moment.
