“I guess I do,” he finally says. “Enzo and Winter, of course. And there are a lot of guys I know from the Army who have families now. I haven’t spent a lot of time with their kids, given that we’re all spread across the country. But I hear stories.”
Disappointment presses down on my chest.
It shouldn’t matter that he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about kids. It’s just… Maybe I let myself fantasize about what-ifs a little too much over the last couple of days.
Maybe I conjured up alternate realities where Ronan and I were dating. And he didn’t care that I had Haley. He didn’t think of my daughter as a burden, like the few men I’ve gone out with in the past. He was happy to take me and Haley as a package deal.
Focus on the here and now. Not what-ifs and fantasies.That’s what my mom kept telling me right after I had Haley. Back then, I was still clinging to the hope that Haley’s absent father would change his mind and step up to his responsibilities. Maybe he’d look at one of the photos I sent of her and realizewhat he was missing out on. Maybe he’d remember the good times we had together and decide to give our relationship another chance. Maybe if I called him, visited him, didsomething…
I don’t want him in my life anymore, and I haven’t for a very long time. But the lesson I learned was a valuable one—focus on reality and not wistful fantasies.
“She’s funny,” Ronan remarks, jerking me back to the present. “Haley, I mean. Her jokes about the mini mountain, and her stories from school…”
Pride warms my chest, chasing away some of the disappointment. With a smile, I reply, “I think she is. My mom used to call her our little entertainer. Even when Haley was little, she loved telling stories and jokes.”
Ronan turns so he’s facing me. His expression turns solemn. “Hazel mentioned that your mom passed away. You used to live with her?”
I nod. “Yeah. This was her house. Well, both my parents. But we lost my dad when I was fifteen. And then she passed away five years ago.”
He touches the back of my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” I force a small smile. “I miss them, of course. But Haley keeps me busy. Plus work and keeping up with the house. It always seems like there’s something new to fix.”
A beat later, I add quickly, “Not that I’m complaining. I’m lucky, really. I have a steady job, a house of my own, and Haley…” My smile softens. “She’s incredible. Very energetic and has a tendency to talk too much, but incredible. Although, as her mom, I’m probably biased.”
Ronan glances towards the living room again. “She’s a great kid,” he says. “I like how much energy she has. Although—” He chuckles. “It does make me feel a bit old.”
I laugh along with him. “Trust me, I get it. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, and she’s still raring to go.”
“Wanting to build mini mountains in the front yard, you mean?”
Noticing that the hot chocolate is starting to get a little film on the top, I give it another stir and take the pot off the burner. “Among other things. She gets a lot of ideas from school—obstacle courses and haunted houses in the basement and carnivals in the backyard. Some things I can’t make happen, like building a treehouse like her friend Tess has. But I try my best.”
Ronan’s gaze holds mine. “I’d say you’re doing an excellent job. And Haley seems very happy.”
“I hope so. With it just being me—” I stop, not wanting to sound like I’m trying to make excuses or that I’m feeling sorry for myself. “Anyway.” I nod at the hot chocolate toppings. “Are you ready for the buffet?”
He looks down at the array of toppings and smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many selections for my hot chocolate before.”
“I got the idea a couple of years ago,” I explain. “We were snowed in all day, and Haley was climbing the walls. So I told her we were going to have a special snow day celebration with fancy hot chocolate and a cookie decorating party and a movie marathon. She loved the hot chocolate buffet so much, we do it a few times every year.”
His expression softens. “That’s really nice, Angel. She’s lucky to have you as a mom.”
“Thanks—”
“Mom!” Haley comes barreling into the kitchen, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. “I just remembered. You need to sign the permission slip.”
The permission slip? Panic that I forgot something critical shoots through me. Is there a field trip tomorrow that I forgot about? A concert?
“What permission slip?” I ask.
“The ski club permission slip,” she replies in the same patient tone my mom used to use with me when I forgot something important. “It’s due tomorrow.”
Oh. Crud.
“Haley,” I say gently. “We talked about this. We can’t do ski club this year. Maybe next?—”
“But we have mini Mount Nilsson,” she interrupts. “So Iwillknow how to ski. That way you won’t have to pay for lessons.”
