Daisy leaned down and kissed me. She was clean and showered and made-up, her hair in loose waves, wearing a pair of pink scrubs. She was beautiful. She said, “You are really something. Did you know that?”
I kissed her again and whispered, “You are.” I looked down. “I don’t want to wake the baby.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s a little after six. I have to wake her up to get her to day care.”
Wake her up. That meant that she hadn’t woken up on her own, that she was so cozy with me that she had slept.
“Do you want me to take her to day care?” I asked sleepily. “So you can get to work?”
She laughed. “You nailed the feeding, but I’m not sure you’re ready for the car-seat-and-diaper-bag portion of the program.”
I nodded, realizing that I had no idea how to get a baby in a car seat, and I was too tired to learn at this particular moment.
“Yeah. That seems like upper-level coursework. I’m still at 101.”
She smiled as the baby began to stir. Maisy raised her little arms above her head and stretched. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. And Ifound myself—despite my exhaustion, despite my middle-of-the-night thoughts that this was a nearly impossible job—not wanting to leave her. I wanted to feed her and change her and carry her around and show her off at work and… I knew I was getting ahead of myself. She was not mine. Not even one percent. So then why did it feel like she was?
She opened one eye and looked at me warily. Then at Daisy. We both laughed at her facial expression.
Daisy reached down to take her, and I was a little sad but also realized that my arm had fallen asleep. I shook it. I needed to get going. We had a meeting today. And a game we needed to win.
“I know you’ll have a long day, but can you guys come to my game tonight?” I asked. I felt kind of desperate.
“I can’t make any promises, but as long as Maisy is cool with it, we’ll be there.” Daisy smiled and Maisy yawned, and I needed to get in the shower.
“I think we are supposed to be having serious conversations, but I’m too tired,” I said.
Daisy nodded. “I am also too tired.”
“Okay. So, we’ll reschedule our serious conversations?”
She nodded.
“Oh!” I said. “But we want you and Maisy to come to Easter at Dogwood.”
“Really?”
“Of course. My family loves you more than me, and I hate to tell you, I think they’re going to love Maisy more than either of us.”
Daisy nodded seriously. “I will mentally prepare for that.
“Hey, Mason. I know no serious conversations… but what Tilley said…” She trailed off.
“I don’t know, Daisy. Maybe it was just another one of those Aunt Tilley spells.” After my conversation with my mom, I was stillconflicted. But I did feel surer that she was probably right that I should let it be.
“So you don’t think we should tell Robbie.”
I laughed incredulously. “Daisy, seriously? Do I think we should explode Robbie’s world over something that is probably nothing? Definitely not. We don’t have any kind of proof that she is telling the truth.” Of courseIhad wanted to do the same thing. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re probably right.” She didn’t look certain, but I didn’t have time to convince her. I had to get to the biggest day of Drew Christianson’s life so far. Or, well, the biggest besides the day he became a father, but since he didn’t know about that, the biggest.
I stood up and kissed her again, and kissed Maisy’s head as she started to cry. As I headed off to shower, I realized I didn’t want to leave either of them. And I wondered what that meant.
MASONDiamond in My Dreams
It felt odd to be having a scouting meeting at Cape Carolina Country Club. Not because I was uncomfortable there. Quite the opposite. I had learned to play poker in this very wood-paneled masculine room with its low lighting and felt-covered tables. My friends and I had snuck our first beers from the iced-down metal buckets in the corners on men’s nights. And my dad and I—cigar in hand for him; I drew the line at smoking of any kind, as I needed my lung capacity to be the best athlete I could be—had had many a serious talk about girls, then women, baseball, my behavior, you name it, sitting at the shiny mahogany bar with its green leather barstools.
But I thought maybe Andy Christianson was right. These scouts were used to being the ones who wined and dined us. Why not change that? I was the first to arrive and asked Angie, the server who had been here my entire life, to get us started with a round of waters and sweet teas, homemade chips and ranch, and Cape Carolina Country Club’s famous fried calamari.
