Chapter 22
Roman
Less than twenty-four hours after Eloise left my house, and I’m already back in her presence, pretending as if seeing her hold Mazie’s hand doesn’t have me coming up with all these ridiculous ideas that involve rings and changing last names.
It was Mazie’s idea to go to the park today, but it was my idea to see if Eloise wanted to come.
Since it’s right by her apartment building, she could walk there.
When I offered the suggestion to my daughter, she jumped on it and demanded my cell phone so she could personally invite Eloise.
I found her contact then handed it over, happy I didn’t have to admit how much of a simp I am.
Not like now.
Standing off to the side with Eloise’s pink purse over my shoulder as she helps Mazie across the monkey bars. They go up and down the slide a few times before moving on to the swings, but Mazie doesn’t stay there long once she spots a kid from her class, and the two run off to the slides together.
Wordlessly, Eloise and I decide to take a seat on one of the benches, watching Mazie run around the park, talking with a third child now. I’m so proud of her.
“Last year, if you’d told me Mazie would walk up to other kids to play with them, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
Eloise’s light brown eyebrows rise. “Oh yeah?”
I glance over, noticing the tip of her nose is red, along with her cheeks. Even though she’s got a cream-colored beanie on her head, she must be cold, and I drape my arm over her shoulders. “She used to be afraid of her shadow.”
Eloise huffs out a dubious sound. “Hard to believe. She’s so amazing.”
I nod, finding a bit too much comfort in the words of the woman who’s not Mazie’s mom, but who so easily slips into a maternal role that it’s hard not to imagine it.
“I was worried,” I confess as her green eyes drift back and forth between my own, her hand finding mine over her shoulder, linking our fingers together.
I don’t understand how she always knows exactly what to do to make me feel less anxious with her touch alone, but it’s enough for me to beg her never to stop.
Never to leave.
Yet it’s not like we’re even together.
We had one weekend pretending.
Then an afternoon.
And last night.
And now…whatever this is. Sitting here, sharing a bench, watching Mazie run around with friends.
I keep my eyes on Mazie climbing the jungle gym. “I only ever wanted to give her a stable family, a stable life.”
“You are. Look at her out there. Look how happy she is. Not everyone would have the courage to do the hard things for their kids, but you did. You do.” Eloise places her hand on my jaw, her palm cool when she turns my head to face her. “Tell me one thing you’re good at.”
“You gonna show me what you’re good at in return?”
“Maybe.”
I relax my legs, widening my stance. Being a big guy, I try to be careful of the space I take up, but I forget all about that with Eloise. She doesn’t mind that I crowd her. In fact, I think she likes it.
“Something I’m good at,” I repeat, and she settles more into my side, her right hand on the top of my thigh. “Fixing up cars.”
“Obviously. Something else.”
“Making you come.”
“Shh!” She backhands my stomach. “Not on the playground, Roman.”
I lean over, my mouth against the shell of her ear when I say, “Making you scream.”
She flushes pink, and I give her the answer I know she wants to hear. “And I’m a good dad.”
“Fuck right, you are.”
I tug on a lock of her hair. “Watch your mouth in front of the kids, sunshine.”
She snorts, nodding sarcastically. “Okay.”
“So much attitude,” I mumble. “I’m not sure if I want that rubbing off on my daughter.”
She gasps, pretending to be shocked before socking me in the shoulder. “Mazie loves me.”
“You’re right,” I say, all the humor gone from my voice. “She does.”
I think I do too.
But that is fucking bananas, and no way am I going to admit that out loud. Instead, I clear my throat and move on. “What about your dad?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning against my side once again, waving at Mazie when she calls our names at the top of the slide. I should probably be more cautious of letting her see us being so physical together, but I think Mazie likes it.
She certainly doesn’t seem confused or upset by it.
Because after she slides down, she runs over to us, a leaf in her hand. “Look at this! Here.” She hands it to Eloise. “Hold this for me.”
“How ’bout you use some manners?” I interject, and she tries again.
“Hold it for me, please.”
Eloise laughs at her overenunciation. “Yes, of course I will.”
“Watch me,” Mazie tells her. “I’m gonna go down the slide again. Watch me, okay?”
And she does. Eloise never takes her attention off my daughter as she climbs the ladder then pivots around to make sure Eloise is indeed looking. The woman straight out of my dreams next to me points to her eyes then at my daughter. “I’m watching!”
Mazie shrieks and goes down the slide with her arms up. “Did you see?” she yells. “I went so fast!”
Eloise claps. “Awesome job, babe!”
Mazie smiles brightly and zips off to run across the planks to the tower in the corner, and Eloise turns to me as if she didn’t grind the last bit of fight I had against my growing feelings for her to dust. She tips her head to the side, hitting me with a cute, distracted scowl. “What were we talking about?”
“Your dad.”
“Right.” She snaps her fingers. “Yeah, my dad… He’s supportive.”
“That sounded like a question.”
“No, he is,” she says but then backtracks.
“Kinda.” When I stare at her blankly, she circles her hands in the air.
“It’s hard to describe because he’s the kind of dad who’d give me a pony if I wanted, but then he won’t say anything to my mom about me or jump in to defend me.
So what’s the point of the pony, you know? ”
I‘ve never had the kind of money to be able to buy somebody a pony, but I understand the sentiment.
“He thinks he can throw money at a problem,” she goes on, although that immediately sets me on edge.
“You’re not a problem to solve.”
She scrunches up her face. “Maybe a little bit.”
“Not even a fucking crumb of a bit, Eloise. Do we need to play our game for real? ’Cause I’ll take you home right now, woman. Don’t—”
She quiets me with her index finger against my lips.
“This isn’t a confidence thing. This is a reality that I have to live with.
I do need to find ways to live my daily life that are not typical for other people.
I have problems I need to solve, and my dad is unlike my mom in that he knows it.
He believes me when I say I need help, and he’s more than happy to write me a check.
He’s more than happy to pay off my student loans then lend me money to open my bakery.
He’s more than happy to buy me an electric toothbrush or smartwatch or robot vacuum.
Anything to make my life easier, except what I really need. ”
“Somebody to tell your mom to fuck off,” I say, and she nods.
“More or less.”
I cup the back of her head. “I’m happy to do it.”
“I know you are.” She laughs a bit sadly, and I hate it. “And I appreciate it, but it feels different coming from someone who loves me, you know?”
I swallow the words down. Hard. “I get it. I just don’t like that you don’t feel supported.”
She shrugs. “I have my friends. Sloane. My chosen family.”
My heart’s in my throat, and I can barely force the words out. “You have me too.”
Her eyes sparkle with a little surprise but even more gratitude. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
Pressing my forehead to hers, I breathe in her cinnamon-and-sugar scent that lingers on her even when she’s not in her bakery, even when we’re sitting outside in the middle of fall with dried leaves all around us. Still. She’s the sweetest, brightest thing in the world.
“Do you and Mazie want to come to my place?” she asks, lifting her head, a small smile gracing her hopeful face. “It’s getting colder, and the sun will start to set soon. I don’t have much to eat, but I do have tomato soup and I make an excellent grilled cheese.”
Without breaking my gaze, I call out, “Hey, Maze!”
“Yeah?”
“You want to go to Eloise’s house for dinner?”
“Fuck yeah!”
Eloise bursts out in a giggle as I stand, rolling my eyes at the scandalized gasps of the other adults around the playground. Waving my troublemaking daughter over, I take her hand. “You really gotta knock that shit off.”
“What shit?”
“The fucking cursing, Maze. People are gonna think I’m raising an animal.”
She sticks her finger in the air with an idea. “What animal? A butterfly? Or chipmunk? Or penguin?”
“Rat,” I say, meeting Eloise by the edge of the park, her purse over her shoulder as she digs through it for her keys.
“A rat?” Mazie makes a face. “Rats aren’t cute. I wanna be a bunny.”
“Be whatever the fuck you want, just stop cursing.” I open the door to Eloise’s building for her and Mazie.
Eloise’s apartment is on the second floor, but instead of taking the elevator, we hike up the staircase.
Mazie loves the fall wreath hanging on Eloise’s door, and she flies inside when Eloise unlocks it.
Since I didn’t get much of a look last time I was here, too obsessed with giving her an orgasm, I study the place.
It’s not huge, but it’s nice. Her pink cruiser rests against the far wall, and Mazie goes right over to it, patting the basket on the front before asking Eloise, “Can I see your bathroom?”
Eloise laughs and points to the door in the hall. “Sure. It’s right down there.”
Mazie makes a beeline, and I shrug when Eloise turns her questioning gaze on me. “I don’t know. She likes toilets and soap.”
I take off my boots, afraid to somehow mess up her obvious aesthetic by keeping them on. The living room is cozy, with plush pink blankets and pillows, a fluffy white rug, and a bookshelf filled with books and knickknacks.
There are framed pictures on the walls, including one of a young Eloise and Sloane, probably in high school.
There’s also one of her holding a huge cake that looks like it could feed a small army.
When Mazie’s finished inspecting whatever-the-hell in the bathroom, she meets me in front of the picture.
She points to it and asks Eloise, “Did you make that?”
“I did,” Eloise says.
Mazie’s jaw drops. “It’s huge! Can I have some?”
“That one’s all gone, but I can make you another one sometime.”
My kid’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“Really,” Eloise confirms, and Mazie squeals, running over to hug her, accidentally knocking into a small table so the flowerpot on top wobbles. The pot’s got a pair of boobs painted on it, and Mazie snickers.
“Those are funny.”
“They are.” Eloise nods, surreptitiously hiding another pot, one that I’m pretty sure has miniature dicks all over it. I shake my head at her in mock disappointment. She silently laughs in return.
“So,” she says, waving Mazie and me to follow her.
“Come have a seat at Café Eloise.” She offers us water or orange juice to drink with an apology.
She explains that she has meal kits delivered, but nothing much in the fridge beyond that.
“Groceries and meal planning are something I’m terrible at,” she tells me as if that will somehow be a turnoff.
Not possible.
As I sip on my water and Mazie drinks her OJ through a squiggly-shaped straw, which Eloise has a dozen of because of Sloane’s kids, Micah and Olivia, she prepares our dinner.
She moves with a natural grace, even in her small kitchen, and I’m captivated.
The way she wiggles her hips, dancing to the music playing as she butters the bread, entertaining Mazie with flourishes of her hand, waving her spatula in the air.
Soon, the three of us are seated with bowls of soup and perfectly browned grilled cheese.
With my girls on either side of me, exchanging giggles and stories, it’s the best damn meal I’ve had in a very long time.