“Where’s your dad? Does he know you’re here?” I ask, already anticipating the answer.
Willow has a habit of ‘forgetting’ to inform her dad of her whereabouts, and I’ve had more than one panicked visit fromHendricks over the two years we’ve been living next to each other.
“We’re going to the aquarium, and he takes ages to get ready, and I was already ready.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, making me chuckle.
Such a little brat.
“Okay, cool, sounds like a fun Saturday.”
“Wanna come with?” she asks with hope in her eyes.
I know she harbors a secret mission to play matchmaker, but first, I’m not mom material, and second, her dad is fifteen years older than me. He’s a great dad and nice, but he’s not my type.
And I don’t think I’m his either.
“No, thank you.”
“Maybe I can come over tomorrow, and we can watch a movie or something?” she tries again, her puppy dog eyes going into overdrive.
I don’t mind her hanging around here every so often. It’s fine watching her when Hendricks has to go somewhere. But not as long as I’ve got the AI and work to do.
“Sorry, I can’t this weekend. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Raincheck?”
“Sure.”
She looks sad, so I offer, “Want to borrow a book? I’ve just finished one you might like.”
“I don’t like reading,” she mutters, just as we hear Hendricks calling her from the hallway.
“Willow?” His voice is muffled, but I can still hear how it’s tinged with the frustration of a father in search of his child.
“Hendricks is looking for you,” I chide as I open the door.
There he stands, scanning the hall with mild exasperation.
“His name is Robert or Bob. I told you to stop calling him by his last name,” Willow grumbles, but I just shrug.
Not going to happen.
“Sorry, she needed her fix,” I joke, handing her over to her dad.
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “How many times have I told you not to bug Stanley, Willow?”
“Her name is Amelia! God, you guys are frustrating.”
“Have fun at the aquarium,” I say as they head toward the elevator.
Hendricks gives me a gentle smile before the doors close.
Once they’re gone and my door clicks shut, Jamie chimes in, “This could be a social interaction you seem to miss. The girl clearly wants to be your friend.”
I resume putting away the groceries, nibbling on another Twizzlers while pointing out, “She’s twelve.”
The only reason I can talk to her so freely.
“And?” Jamie probes, and I stop, looking up at the ceiling, even though I know I won’t find a face there I can scowl at.
“And befriending a child is even sadder than not having any friends at all.” I sigh.
