Chapter 28
HANNAH
Even Toast Malone is here, sitting patiently by my feet, wearing his blinged-out collar and his matching sparkly harness, happily accepting the attention he garners from every passer-by.
When I asked Happy if Toasty could tag along, Happy asked Lucky while I was on the phone, and the sound of excitement that came from that little girl was infectious, so it’s only right that Toast is here in his sparkly Sunday best.
After last night, things feel different between me and Happy.
The text message I woke up to this morning from him is one I will cherish forever.
Because last night, when his daughter was in need and he couldn’t be there, I stepped in.
I was the person she asked for. Me. And, sure, I might have freaked out over that fact at least a few times in the hours since, but in a world so unfamiliar, so foreign, so scary, in Lucky’s eyes, I’m a safe person.
And I didn’t think something like that would have the ability to affect me the way it has, but I am so down bad—if not for Happy, then definitely for his little Lucky Duck.
“There she is.”
Right on time, I hear a familiar deep voice behind me, and I spin around to find Happy walking toward me, Lucky clutching his hand, looking wary of everything going on around her until her gaze meets Toast and her little face lights up.
Happy is disguised behind dark-tinted Ray Bans and a ball cap, dressed just like any other average Joe in a pair of black athletic shorts and a white long-sleeved t-shirt sporting the Yankees logo across the chest. Lucky, on the other hand, appears to have gone all out with her ensemble: a pair of bright pink tights, a rainbow tulle skirt, a t-shirt with Stitch from Lilo and Stitch on the front, her hair in braids entwined with rainbow ribbon, and she wears a sparkly backpack and matching sparkly sneakers. Adorable.
“Hi!” I wave, smiling from Happy to Lucky as she lets go of her daddy’s hand and unexpectedly wraps her little arms around me.
I crouch down to reciprocate, and I see her side-eye Toast Malone before she leans in and whispers, “Can I pet your dog?”
“Thank you for asking, Lucky,” I say, genuinely taken aback, because not often do people stop to ask.
And while Toasty wouldn’t hurt a fly unless I instructed him to do so, it’s baffling the amount of grown adults who should know better, that pet him without stopping to check if it’s okay first. “You sure can.” I nod, leaning in and lowering my voice to a whisper as I say, “He loves a good scratch behind his ears.”
I watch closely as Lucky tentatively reaches closer, clearly hesitant. Toast waits patiently. And when her hand hits the hot spot, his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he basks in her attention.
Standing back up, I find Happy right there, almost touching me, but not quite. And although I can’t see his eyes, I can tell he’s staring directly into mine, a faint smile playing on his lips as he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear, “Hi, Baby Draper.”
My cheeks heat from his closeness and the use of the name I’ve come to love rolling off his tongue. Flustered, I readjust my ball cap for no reason at all and press my lips together in a smile, looking around for what, I have no idea.
“So,” I start, clearing my suddenly dry throat. “What do you guys feel like doing?”
Lucky snaps her head up, and Toast Malone grumbles in protest at the loss of her fingers from behind his ears. “I want to see everything! The fountain, the castle, the squirrels, the boats. Everything.”
“Oh, wow, you have a whole list.” I laugh.
“It’s her… first time at the park,” Happy says, touching Lucky’s shoulder, and when my eyes lift to him, I don’t miss the slight wince of guilt that crosses his features.
I assume he probably feels bad for living right across the street and never bringing her here.
And I get it. But I also know he has his reasons, and I offer him a reassuring wink.
“Well, we better make it extra fun then, huh?” I grin down at Lucky, and she nods excitedly.
We turn and head into the park, and I’m stopped in my tracks when I feel Lucky’s little hand slide into mine. I try to act cool, but it’s hard, and when I glance sideways to find Happy smirking like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, again my cheeks heat.
“Is that okay?” he asks quietly, nodding to where Lucky holds my hand.
I nod, desperately reigning in the overwhelming emotion that threatens to break what little composure I have left as I say, “Better than okay.”
After seeing as many of the Central Park sights that we could fit in before Lucky started to get tired legs and ended up riding on Happy’s shoulders, we found a patch of green grass beneath the shade of a sugar maple in the Sheep Meadow, the sun shining down from a sky so blue it’s almost unnatural.
Happy went off with Toast Malone in search of a vendor to grab a bite to eat, so it’s just Lucky and me, relaxing together while basking in the sunshine and the peacefulness of the meadow as the Manhattan skyscrapers loom on the outskirts, a true juxtaposition.
“Hannah?”
I lift my head at the sound of Lucky’s sweet voice. “Yeah, babe?”
She doesn’t look at me, her head resting on my stomach, her hands fidgeting with the soft ear of her Bluey plushy. “Are you my daddy’s girlfriend?”
My eyes widen, and I glance over my shoulder, scanning the vast meadow for Happy, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Toast probably stopped for two shits and fourteen pisses so, unfortunately, it looks like on my own.
“Um…n-no,” I answer truthfully. “We’re just… we’re friends.”
“Oh,” Lucky says on a sigh, and the way her shoulders fall makes me regret not pretending I was asleep just now to avoid having to answer her question.
I consider myself, but before I can flail and probably put my foot in my mouth, Lucky speaks. “I wish you were Daddy’s girlfriend.”
“You do?”
She nods. “Yeah. Because you’re so pretty, and you have a doggie.”
I have to bite my lips together to stop myself from laughing out loud because the bar is low with this one.
“My daddy’s never had a girlfriend. I think he’s lonely.” Lucky turns to me, face so innocent, eyes wide and full of hope as she inches closer. “And if you were my daddy’s girlfriend, then I could have a mommy.”
Ouch. There goes my damn heart again.
I sit up then, moving in next to Lucky so we’re side by side, looking out over the meadow.
And as I glance down at her to find her still fidgeting with the toy dog’s ear, I contemplate my words.
Yes, she’s only five years old, but I feel like I can talk to this tiny human. Like, really talk to her. So, I do.
“You know, my mom isn’t around either.”
Lucky looks up at me. “Is she in heaven too?”
Releasing a breath, I shake my head. “No. She’s not in heaven. She’s in South Carolina. Where I grew up.”
“Do you go see her?”
I look out over the sweeping green grass, thinking back to the last time I saw my mother. And, as insufferable as the woman is, I’m not proud of the time it’s been since I last visited. Maybe I really do need to give her a chance. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“How long?”
“A few years.”
“Why?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know…” is all I say can instead of the honest truth. This little girl doesn’t need to know that there are mommas out there who aren’t nice to their daughters.
Lucky seems to process that, looking out over the meadow, her forehead puckered in thought a moment before she looks up at me again. “You should go see your mommy. Before she goes to heaven and you can’t see her.”
I smile sadly. Because, for five years old, she’s wise as hell. “You’re right. I should. And I will. I promise.”
She grins up at me, but the sadness is still there in her eyes, and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight.
Lucky squeezes me back, and I feel her relax against me, allowing her the moment she needs until it’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar bark that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to prick.
Turning my head, I see Toast Malone galloping toward us in the distance almost as if in slow motion, his ears bouncing with every one of his long strides, leash trailing behind him.
Happy appears over the knoll, running at full speed, his arms flailing in the air as he shouts something unintelligible.
“What on earth…” I mutter, releasing Lucky and standing up to my feet, squinting through the glare of the sun, which is when I notice something hanging out of Toast’s mouth, his jowls flapping around it as he hurtles toward us.
“Is that… pizza?” I ask no one in particular.
And as Toast comes closer, my suspicion is confirmed when I make out the giant slice of pepperoni that hangs almost like a makeshift tongue from his mouth. What the fuck?
Toast makes it to us and casually flops down onto the grass with an almighty snort, the slice propped between his paws as he eats with noisy, sloppy chews.
And I look from my dog to a flustered and out of breath Happy as he gasps and splutters for air, stopping just shy of us and keeling over, resting his hands on his knees as he tries to breathe.
Lucky and I share a confused glance.
“That dog—” Happy manages through a gasp, pointing an accusatory finger at Toast Malone, who continues living his best life, eating pizza like it’s his life’s mission. “Is a menace!”
“Hey!” Lucky stands, placing her hands on her hips. “Don’t you talk about my baby like that!”
Happy gapes at her, glancing to me, and I flash him a smug smirk, placing my hand on Lucky’s shoulder.
“He stole that slice!” Happy shrieks, his voice all high and pitchy.
“He stole it? From who?” I throw Toast a chastising look, but he just continues munching on the contraband, head held high, eyes closed like it’s the best pizza he’s ever consumed.
“The vendor!” Happy guffaws, removing his ball cap and pushing his hair back from his sweat-beaded forehead. “Just jumped right on up there against the counter and swiped it, like eff the police, full NWA-style, and then he took off like a bat out of hell.”
I look Happy up and down, quirking a brow. “And… why is your shirt… wet?” I try not to outwardly gawk at the way the white cotton of his t-shirt clings to the ripple of muscles underneath.
“Oh, this?” Happy points at himself with a scoff. “This is the three homemade lemonades I was holding when pizza thief over here took off and ripped the leash straight outta my goddamn hand.”
Toast Malone expels a low groan after finishing the last of his slice, flopping onto his side and stretching languorously. And I have to slap a hand over my mouth to stop the laugh that tries to bubble up from the back of my throat because honestly, this dog. He’s such a vibe.
“Good doggy,” Lucky croons, moving in next to Toast and smoothing her hand down the length of his body.
Happy mutters something under his breath, meeting my eyes with a smile he tries so hard to contain before tugging his shirt up and over his head, tucking it into the waist of his shorts.
And I’m suddenly caught off guard by the unexpected sight of his glorious body presented right in front of me like a buffet of muscles contorting beneath taut, sweat-sheened skin.
While Lucky continues stroking Toast, Happy steps closer until we’re almost touching, the abs stacked in his torso contracting with the breaths he’s finally starting to control, all while I try to look anywhere but directly at the goods.
“Keep looking at me like that, Baby Draper,” he warns so close I feel the whisper of air from his lips fanning against my cheek right in the ache between my thighs.
And God damn him. I’m forced to spear him with a half-assed glower because it’s hardly the time, or the place to get me this worked up.