I’ve never thought about Colton’s nose before, but now that she mentions it, there is a slight crook to it. It really suits his face though. He has a wonderful face…
“I think he’s pretty. He should be careful, though—wouldn’t want him breaking his nose again. You never know how those things turn out after.”
“Your dad is very handsome, yes,” I say, cheeks burning just from that.
“He also sings Russian lullabies, you know. When he thinks I’m sleeping,” she continues, casually sticking out her tongue while working on her next math problem. “And sometimes he cries during movies. Especially ones with dogs.”
“He doesn’t,” I say, already planning on watching a movie with a dog. A really sad one. We’ll both end up crying I guess but it’s going to be worth it.
“Jenna, do you like my dad?” she asks suddenly.
The question catches me off guard. “I...” We are married. I have to tell her that. “Of course… we’re married.”
“But do you like him?” she persists. “My mom didn’t like him anymore, that’s why they don’t live together. And they were married too.”
Jesus. How do I answer that? “Grown-up relationships are complicated, Livy.”
“That’s what adults always say when they don’t want to answer,” she sighs dramatically, chewing on the end of her pen.
This kid.
“Your dad and I really like each other,” I say carefully. “We knew each other a long time ago. Did he tell you?”
She nods like this is all very normal information to process while doing some homework. “Yeah. He said you went to school together.” She wrinkles her little nose. “I don’t like the boys in my class. I wouldnevermarry one of them.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I thought the same thing about your dad once. And now look at us.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, with full conviction: “Ew. That’s so gross. I don’t want to marry ever.”
“You know, I’m a girl’s girl. You can be whoever and whatever you want to be without having a man in your life. But one will be there forever: your dad.”
“He’s the best anyway.”
“He is.”
She seems satisfied with this and moves on to telling me about a girl in her class who brought a frog to school in her pocket.
We spend the late afternoon playing board games, and as if I were a seasoned babysitter, I effortlessly get her ready for bed. It feels so easy with Livy, as though we’ve done this countless times before. But I suppose she’s glad she can be here and doesn’t have to go back to her mom. I can tell she isn’t fully herself yet. Kids have tantrums, and that’s completely normal—they feel things intensely. I just hope she feels safe enough soon to let those emotions out instead of holding them in or walking on eggshells.
“Will you read me a story?” she asks, pulling a book from her shelf.
I glance at my watch. It’s getting late, and I still have some briefs to review. But her cute little glance is impossible to resist.
“One story,” I agree, sitting on the edge of her pink bed.
She climbs in beside me, pressing against my side with immediate trust that makes my stomach tingle. The book is about a bear who can’t find his hat. It’s simple but surprisingly funny, and Livy giggles at all the right moments.
Halfway through the second reading—because of course one wasn’t enough—I hear the front door open.
“Hello?” Colton’s deep voice calls out.
“We’re in here, Daddy!” Livy shouts. I shoot her a glance. This kid is far from sleepy.
Heavy footsteps approach, and then Colton fills the door.
He’s still in his practice clothes, hair damp with sweat and a duffel bag slung over one broad shoulder. He looks exhausted but his face softens when he sees Livy. Then his eyes shift to me, sitting on his daughter’s bed with a children’s book in my lap, and something passes over his expression—surprise, certainly, but something else too. Something I can’t place because all I can see are those big, veiny hands pressed against the doorframe. Hands that would probably feel amazing on my skin…
