Page 70 of Fake it With Me

And depriving myself of a partner I could love with my whole heart and would love me in return.

Being single was so much less complicated. No risk of heartbreak or messy emotions. I didn’t have to be vulnerable. Trusting anyone made a guy vulnerable. It was so much easier to keep it just me and Daisie, the way it had been for three years. Safe. Predictable.

Lonely.

I plated the eggs and started on toast, my mind still churning.

The truth was, I didn’t know what the right answer was. I didn’t know if Liza and I could make this work long-term, or if we were setting ourselves up for failure. I didn’t know if trying was brave or stupid.

All I knew was that when I was with her, I felt things I hadn’t felt in years. Hope. Possibility. The sense that maybe life could be more than just getting through each day.

I heard footsteps coming downstairs. I knew those little footprints. Daisie came into the kitchen rubbing her eyes, still in her pajamas, her hair a mess from sleep.

“Morning, kiddo,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh. Is Liza up yet?”

“Not yet. But she will be soon.”

“Good. I want to ask her something.”

That could be about anything from makeup to whales.

We set the table together, Daisie chattering about a dream she had involving whales and pirates and somehow also her friend Emma’s dog. I listened with half my attention, the other half still occupied with thoughts of Liza.

As if summoned by my thoughts, she appeared in the doorway. She was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, her face free of makeup, and she looked soft and rumpled and absolutely beautiful.

“Morning,” she said. Our eyes met across the kitchen.

For a second, it was like we were the only two people in the world. I could see the memory of last night in her expression. And I was certain I could see the same uncertainty I was feeling reflected back at me.

Then Daisie launched herself at Liza, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Liza! Guess what? The science fair is tomorrow at school! Do you want to come see my project?”

Liza looked down at Daisie, and her whole face softened. “I would love to come see your project. What are you presenting?”

“It’s color-changing flowers!” Daisie pulled back, her hands gesturing excitedly. “You take white flowers and put them in different vases with different food coloring in the water. The colors go up the stems and make different colors. I have red ones and blue ones and even a purple one that I made by mixing colors!”

“That sounds incredible,” Liza said, genuine enthusiasm in her voice.

Liza moved to get herself a cup of coffee. She carried it back to the table and sat down. Daisie climbed into the chair next to her, already launching into a detailed explanation of her scientific method.

Liza asked questions about the project with Daisie providing the answers. She had been working on the project for a couple of weeks. The girl was smart and I wasn’t just saying that because she was my kid. Even her teachers said she was very advanced her age.

Yes, if I could pat my own back, I would do it.

I brought the food to the table and sat down, watching them interact. Liza listened to Daisie with complete attention, asking follow-up questions that showed she wasn’t just humoring my child but was genuinely interested in the project.

“You know what would make your presentation even better?” Liza said. “If you can explain why the flower changes color in terms a first-grader could understand. Can you try?”

Daisie thought for a moment, her face scrunched in concentration. “Um… flowers drink water through their stems like we drink through straws. And if you put color in the water, the flower drinks the color too and it shows up in the petals.”

“Perfect! That’s exactly right. You’re going to be an amazing scientist, Daisie.”

My daughter glowed under the praise. And this was exactly what I was afraid of.

The way Daisie looked at Liza with such trust and affection. Liza naturally slipped into a maternal role. She encouraged and supported my daughter. The way they fit together like they’d been meant to find each other.

It was beautiful. And it was terrifying.