Chapter 16
Dax
“Ifound a book about flowers!” Poppy is holding my hand, hopping up and down as we wade through the tiny people.
“You didn’t find it. The book lady found it,” Delilah says matter of factly.
As the eldest of my two daughters, she is the most matter of fact.
She also spends most of her time telling me how I don’t do things like mom, reminding me how mom did them, and explaining to Poppy who does not remember mom why mom did it best. Despite the raw nature of it all, Delilah’s words don’t hurt.
Only the reality of it does.
That hurts every minute of every hour of every day. And it is the reason I have to compartmentalize my life.
“The book lady, huh?” I ask as both my daughters tug me along.
“Yes! She found me a flower book, and she was super nice,” Poppy says.
“Book ladies are always nice,” I say. And then I stop.
Because on the other side of the sea of children is said book lady. A woman with long dark hair. A beautiful smile and bright eyes and a yellow blouse. Her energy is like the sun, central and gravitating. And all the puzzle pieces begin to form a picture I didn’t even know I was looking at.
And now, I can’t look away.
“We found him!” Poppy says as we stop right in front of the counter.
Right in front of the book lady.
Right in front of Libby.
“You did,” she says. She is avoiding my eyes like the plague, but I can’t for the life of me stop staring at her.
“He’s going to pay for our books,” Poppy says. Poppy is five and she is all the fire of her mother swirled into one tiny capsule.
“He is,” Delilah adds. “Dad?”
It occurs to me then, after my almost nine-year-old gives me a hard look, that I need to take my wallet out of my pocket.
“Right. Of course. You need money,” I say, shoving my hand in the back pocket of my jeans.
“It would help, yes,” Libby says with a small smile. A forced one. A confused and lost and caught off guard one.
For maybe the first time, we have something in common-
We are speechless.
“That will be $29.43.” She says.
“For two books,” I say and regret it immediately. Because as soon as I say it, she gives me a look. A half smile, half brow raise.
“For two really good books,” Libby smiles at the girls and not me.
“I got Little House on the Prairie,” Delilah says.
“Also, a great pick,” Libby says with animation in her voice. It’s not forced, it’s not fake. And it’s making my heart hurt in places that are closed to the public.
I swallow hard.
“I am almost done with all of them!” Delilah exclaims.
“You are,” I agree because I’m not completely dense to what is going on. “What is this, the 7th?”
“The 8th, dad,” she corrects me. “And there’s only 9 in the series.”
“What are you going to read next?” Libby asks, her eyes flickering up to mine only momentarily. Not enough for me to read her expression or reaction to the current shitshow that is her finding out I’m a dad.
“I don’t know,” Delilah says dramatically. “I will probably have a book hangover.”
“Delilah,” I snap but Libby just laughs. Really laughs.
“That is a feeling I know all too well,” she says, “But in your case…I recommend Anne of Green Gables.”
“I think I’ve heard of that,” Delilah says.
“You’re the book lady!” Poppy says again, pointing at Libby. “From the book shop!”
“How do you know that?” I ask with a nervous laugh. Am I blushing? Surely not.
“Because she’s Miss Libby!” Poppy shouts. “From the bookstore that Aunt Jenna takes us to!”
“Of course,” I agree, having no idea about any of this.
“Of course!” Libby says with a satisfactory smile as she hands us our books and a couple of bookmarks.
“Our dad has a bookstore too,” Poppy says.
“He has a lot of bookstores,” Delilah adds.
“But we like yours better.” Poppy ices the cake and I realize that I am in fact blushing. Fucking awesome.
I’d love for them to drop it. To take the books and leave.
To be in a world where this conversation never happened.
But as Libby clasps her hands together, leaning over the counter with a grin (and her perfectly perky tits on display while we are at it because, let’s face it, it would take more than a high collared blouse and a push up bra to hide those double D’s) I realize that that’s not the ideal world I live in.
This world, the realistic world, lives to torment me.
“Do you?” Libby asks. “Why’s that?”
“It’s prettier,” Poppy says.
“And funner,” Delilah adds.
“And the people that work there are nicer,” Poppy says with a smile and a sigh. “It’s just better.”
I look at Libby who is very much loving this (I am not), and usher my daughters away from the counter.
“I’m sure there are nice things about your dad’s bookstores too…” Libby offers.
“Not really,” Poppy lets out.
Libby snorts and pretends she didn’t. “Why don’t you girls go pick out a sucker from the lollypop tree before you leave?”
The girls lose their minds and scamper off, leaving me and Libby alone.
Great.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I say as soon as they are out of earshot.
“Do you? I’d love to hear it…dad.”
It takes everything in me to shut off the furnace of arousal that simple word ignites in me as she says it.
But this is serious. “Listen,” I lean in, my voice soft. “I lost their mother–”
“I know,” she nods. “My friend told me. She’s a teacher. And I’m sorry. I mean that.”
“It’s…complicated. I have to switch hats multiple times of day. And it’s just easier if I compartmentalize.”
Not to mention shut it off.
“I get that,” she says. And for some reason, I feel like she actually does. It’s a look in her eyes. Like something is familiar.
“I’m not who you think,” I say.
“And who is it you think that I think you are?”
“A cold hearted businessman. Who answers calls and texts from random women…” I let that trail off and Libby’s cheeks turn pink.
I relish it.
“How was I supposed to know who Poppy and Delilah are?” she snaps back.
I just smile. “I suppose you couldn’t have known.”
“Fine,” she says. “I guess I jumped to conclusions.”
“You did.”
I am loving the way the tables have turned. And as Libby opens her mouth to say something, the girls crash the party.
“We are ready to go!” Poppy says.
“Well, it was lovely to see you girls,” Libby smiles down at them and again my heart cranks in my chest.
“Can we see you again soon?” Poppy asks.
“Oh! Maybe you can take us to her shop, dad!” Delilah says.
“I mean, I could—”
“You really should see it, dad,” Delilah goes on. “It’s lovely.”
Libby smiles up at me. “Well, I would love to see all of you again,” she says. And I feel like she means it. “Though I am not so sure your dad is a fan of story time…”
I look at her. She looks at me.
“Actually, that sounds like fun,” I say.
Libby bites back a laugh. “Does it now?”
“Yes,” I answer, shoving my wallet back in my pocket. “We will be there.”
And I mean it. Because the last thing I am going to let happen, after what just went down, is Libby thinking that I am not a good guy. For whatever inexplicable reason that it matters.