I do, and I don’t like what Ivy’s insinuating. “Your mom wants to protect you, just like I do. So if you knew she would freak out, you also should have realized you were doing something wrong. Didn’t you?”
Ivy heaves a sigh. “Yeah. Maybe you don’t have to tell her.”
I certainly do. “Were you going to talk to Chris again today?”
“Yeah,” Ivy says. “Around nine.”
Of course. When she’s expected to be in bed reading.
Her face lights up. “Hey, maybe you could talk to him!Then you’ll see he’s not dangerous.”
“Oh, I will be talking to him. Don’t worry about that.” I imagine the boy turning on his camera to see the father of the girl he’s sniffing around will be startling enough, but I also hope he’s seen at least a few of my more violent movies.
I move over to her backpack by the door and extract her laptop. Chris and I are definitely going to have a little chat.
Ivy whines. “You’re so mean. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I just want to kiiiiiiss hiiiiiiiim.”
I take solace that if she’s whining about wanting a kiss, probably nothing scarier has happened.
Yet.
“Why don’t you kiss a boy your own age?” I ask.
She glares up at me. “Twelve-year-old boys are so gross.”
“Can’t blame you there. What aboutTy Mays? He’s thirteen. I bet he’d want to kiss you.” Ivy’s friendTy has been adorably enamored with her since they met a couple years ago at a party at Kim’s agent’s house. He’s probably the only boy I’d encourage my daughter to kiss, because he’s even more innocent than she is. We’ve had him over to swim in the pool a couple times, and the way he follows her around like a puppy dog is ridiculously cute.
Ivy gives me a look like I am terribly foolish. “I can’t kissTy. He’s myfriend.”
Ouch. Sorry,Ty.
“Well, eventually you’ll be fifteen, and then you can kiss fifteen-year-old boys all you want.” I don’t addas long as that’s all you’re doing, even though I want to. I was going further than that at fifteen, and I’m determined not to be one of those fathers who shames his daughter about her desires.
I am, however, going to protect her from them until she’s of reasonable age, and twelve ain’t it. I leave her moaning on the couch like she’s ruptured her appendix, secure the laptop in my bedroom, then shout to both of them to put on their swimsuits. Ivy drags herself through this chore like she’s preparing for a painful trip to the dentist. Luke and I are waiting for her at the door before she’s even changed her clothes, at which point I realize I’m not sure they even know about the film.
“Hey Luke,” I say, loud enough for Ivy to hear. “Did you hear your mom and I are going to do a movie together?”
Luke looks surprised, and Ivy appears around the corner, wearing her t-shirt over her swim bottoms. “What?”
“Yeah,” I say. “They’re doing a Farpoint/Hemlock crossover, and we’re going to film it in Miami in a couple of months.”
Ivy puts her hands on her hips. “You can’t work with Mom. You guys hate each other.”
I give her a warning look. “That’s not true. You know I love your mother.” I tell her this often enough, but she never believes me. Probably because she assumes any normal person who got a divorce would be angry with the person they were married to. Kim certainly has that part down.
She has every reason to be angry with me. I failed her.
“Yeah,” Ivy says. “Because she’s our mom, duh. But you guys don’t like each other.”
I don’t correct her. It’s easier to let her think that, just like it was easier to let the public believe we split up because I had an affair with the nanny. Sometimes the ugly lie is less painful than the truth.
“Your mom and I will be fine,” I say. “Plus, we’ll be in Florida, so maybe I can take you guys to Disneyworld. Or Legoland.”
Luke cheers at this news, as I knew he would.
“Dad,” Ivy says, “we live right next to both those places here.”
“But this will be adifferentLegoland!” Luke announces, spinning in a circle while making crazy robot arms.
