Chapter 8
SPENCER
Hadley looks at me with her head cocked to the side and a puzzled look.
My eyes dart from her curiosity to the dining room table where April has set up a formal dining setting around one plate and a fancy decorated dish with the tortellini that she and Hadley made from scratch.
There is even a fresh basil leaf thrown on for good measure.
“Is this how every meal is going to go?” I ask as I watch April standing on a chair to get a better photo of the plate of food.
“Yes. But you are assuming I’m cooking for you.” She takes a shot then turns her head to me. “I’m trying to do something with my life, and while in prison, I might as well make opportunities arise.”
“Highly doubt my state-of-the-art kitchen, indoor swimming pool, and lake views are considered a prison.”
April smiles sweetly at my daughter and then a hint of venom joins her smile when her eyes meet mine. The problem is, every time she attempts to show her dislike for me, it only comes across as a playful game that I have no problem participating in.
“Silly me and my choice of words. This is, of course, a completely wonderful five-star unplanned vacation.” I roll my eyes, as now she is just overdoing it. “Okay, enough photos, methinks. Shall we eat dinner?”
“Eww. I’m not eating that,” Hadley protests.
April seems ready to stand off against my daughter. She hops off the chair and brings her hand to her hip before leaning down to Hadley’s height. “Strange. You helped make it, and when you weren't looking, I even put in magic.”
“Magic?” Hadley seems interested.
April nods her head. “Yep. It makes little girls grow and makes their fathers be compliant.”
“Compli—” Hadley attempts to say.
My hand lands on my daughter’s shoulder. “I’m curious about this magic. I thought April was only capable of witchcraft,” I mumble through my teeth.
April walks to the kitchen counter and grabs Hadley’s plate to show her a different version of the pasta than on the table. Hadley’s version is simpler with no fancy stuff. Just tomato sauce and cheese.
“What’s that?” Hadley investigates the plate.
“Magic pasta for girls who want to wake up tomorrow with special powers.”
“She won’t eat that,” I tell April, because Hadley is a picky eater, and sometimes, I feel to defy me, she avoids eating what I suggest on purpose.
April takes a slow step, as if she is about to walk away.
“Fine.” She sighs. “I guess Pickles and I will enjoy our superpowers tomorrow morning alone. I think the magic I added was for making donuts tomorrow, or was it to get your daddy to take you wherever you want to go within a ten-mile radius, I don’t quite remember.
” She taps her finger on her chin in contemplation, and I feel an odd sensation as I watch April make an effort with my daughter.
“Anywhere?” Hadley is suddenly invested in the situation again.
April pivots to look back at Hadley. “I mean, I guess if you have like six bites then that will be enough for the magic to kick in.”
“I’m six!”
“Exactly. So…” She offers the plate.
Hadley takes a step forward and then another step. “Three bites.”
“Five bites.”
Damn, these two are in negotiations with one another like it’s habit.
“Fine.” Hadley doesn’t sound thrilled but hops up on a kitchen counter stool, and April smiles proudly as she places the plate in front of Hadley before handing her a fork.
We both watch as Hadley slowly takes a bite, and relief hits me that I don’t need to battle it out for her to eat again today, April did it for me.
April’s gaze and enlightenment from her win shifts to me and her smile fades slightly, possibly because I have a new look on my face of appreciation for how April is putting her distaste for me to the side to put my daughter first.
After getting Hadley to bed, I walk into the kitchen to find April setting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.
To my surprise, she left me a full plate of food.
We didn’t get a chance to eat. After Hadley ate her token bites, I brought her upstairs to get ready for bed.
Bedtime is the one thing where things seem to gel between Hadley and me. It just runs smoothly.
“Is this really safe to eat?” I have to ask, as I’m not sure why she is being kind to me.
She gives me a death stare. “Not that you deserve it, but yes.”
I make a point of grabbing a fork and take a bite, fully expecting to spit it out, as I don’t take April for a cook, but the moment the stuffed pasta hits my tastebuds, I’m taken to another world. Garlic, mushroom, and thyme hit my tongue in an explosion.
“Damn,” I nearly moan.
April flashes her eyes in agreement as she throws the kitchen towel to the side.
“Good?” She seems proud.
“No way Hadley would eat this,” I note.
“She didn’t. I made a different version for her. Cheese, and I pureed carrot into the tomato sauce so she will never know she ate a carrot.”
I slowly swallow as I study her and wonder why she put in the effort for my daughter, but all I come up with is, “Thank you.”
She nods once, and we don’t speak any more about it.
“I guess pasta goes against your protein shake regime, but I was never agreeable to your needs.”
“Not exactly true,” I quip, and the air nearly leaves the room when we both take in that I’m referencing our one night together.
Clearing her throat, April walks to the fridge to grab two bottles of beer. “Shall we finish your explanation of your life situation?”
I take another bite of food to give me an extra second or two, but she's right. It's time to finish our conversation from earlier.
Taking the bottle of beer she offers, I grab the opener lying on the counter to pop the cap. “Where shall I start?” And what do I want to share with her?
“I’m not sure.”
I wrap my lips around the bottle to take a decent sip of the beer, a specialty brew called Matchbox. “My mom has always helped raise Hadley, because Hadley’s mom never wanted to be a mother.”
April leans over the counter onto her arms and holds her bottle between her hands. “Who is she?”
“Just a hookup who signed away her parental rights the same week Hadley was born.”
She offers me a sympathetic nod. “I would say I could never understand how someone could do that, but I get it. Not everyone wants to be a parent. Her loss, Hadley is a cute kid.”
“I would say so,” I breathe out. “And Hadley doesn’t come to my baseball games, so she has never been around the media. That’s more because she's too young to sit through a long game.”
“Baseball games do drag,” April confirms, and I flash her an unimpressed glare. “But people in Lake Spark know?”
“One of the joys of this small town is that everyone keeps what happens here in our bubble. I mean, your best friend and uncle literally walked around for months in Lake Spark together with not a word coming back to you.”
“True.” She rolls her eyes.
“And I’ve never brought Hadley to any of Hudson’s parties since she's a young kid.”
April straightens her posture. “That explains a lot. But I don’t understand you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your effort is…”
I get defensive and stand up from the stool, my hands landing on the counter that I tower over. “What the hell does that mean?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I just mean that, well, hell, I don’t need to protect your cherished emotions, but damn, Spencer, try harder!”
“What the fuck?” I feel steam brewing between my ears. She has some damn nerve.
“Okay, hear me out.” She holds her hands up to try and calm me down.
“You keep her a big secret. I mean, you literally compartmentalize her life here into two rooms in this house. I don’t even see any photos of you both anywhere around.
And outside? I mean, get her a swing or something that says, ‘this is your yard too.’ Instead, you have a netted area to practice your pitching. ”
“She can play outside,” I’m quick to justify.
“When she asks to bring toys outside. Why did she mention during pasta-making that a babysitter is coming next week?” She gives me a stern look.
I bite my inner cheek trying to suppress my rage. “Because I need the help.”
“It’s off-season,” she counters.
I circle around the kitchen island to get closer to April, because this chick makes something inside of me want to throttle her, as I don’t need her parenting views.
“I need someone to help around the house, and last time I checked, I’m missing the housewife.”
April raises a finger. “Ah, so you need someone to help clean and do laundry. Not play with Hadley while you try to avoid her?”
“I’m not avoiding her. I’m doing my damn best, and I don’t appreciate you criticizing me after only a day here of seeing us together. Don’t take your daddy issues out on me.”
April’s mouth drops open then slowly closes before she abruptly turns and leans against the counter to take a sip of her beer. “You’re right. I just hate to see anyone miss opportunities with their parents.”
Her statement is like a knife to the chest because I couldn’t agree more, but I’m not going to highlight that.
“No. You just want to make me the bad guy,” I correct her.
“It’s easier that way,” she says before pushing herself away from the counter and walking away, calling to Pickles in the process.
The next morning, I wake early, as I normally do, and work out in my at-home gym before making a protein shake. By the time it’s eight, I find it unusual that Hadley hasn't woken up yet.
Heading up the stairs, I slow my steps when I hear murmurs of voices.
“You smell like candy,” my daughter states.
“Why, thank you.” April doesn’t seem to mind that Hadley must have made her way to the guest room.
“Your skin is more beautiful than Grammie’s, hers has lines.”
April chortles. “That’s because age plays a factor.”
“You're the same age as my daddy?”
“A few years younger.”
I approach the room to see the door is open, and as I take a step into the doorway, I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the sight of April with a white towel wrapped around her body and a towel on her head, while her hands are busy using a makeup brush. Damn, the towel is barely past her ass, and I’m far too curious if she is still completely naked under it.
Hadley is leaning against the dresser in her pajamas, watching April.
Clearing my throat, I knock on the door pane. “Morning.” I find my voice despite the image in front of me doing a number on my brain.
April doesn’t take notice of me and focuses on the mirror. “Someone found me this morning.”
“Sorry. I guess working on manners when a guest is here is new.”
“Hey! It’s more fun to watch April get pretty than go downstairs.”
“Why is that?”
Hadley shrugs. “I don’t know. She has sparkly powder.”
“Sparkly powder? I think you are still stuck in your dreams, kiddo.” I cross my arms over my chest.
April smiles. “Nah, she's right. I have this sparkly body powder that I was putting on when she came in.”
My fist finds my mouth as I look away, and I'm now imagining where the hell that powder goes.
“Daddy, I don’t think it’s polite for you to be here. This is girls only.”
I tip my head in the direction of Pickles who is lying lazily at the edge of the bed. “Pickles is here.”
“He doesn’t count,” Hadley justifies.
“She’s right, you know,” April pipes up. “Your eyes should be somewhere else other than the room where I slept all night, only to wake, shower, and am now wearing a towel that could fall at any moment.” I hear her taunting me as she applies mascara.
“See? You need to leave,” Hadley declares, completely unaware of April’s innuendo.
I shake my head ruefully. “Fine. But you are coming with me, Hadley, you need to get ready for the day.”
Hadley’s finger finds the air. “Did the magic work? Since I ate my bites of food last night. Do we get to go anywhere I want?”
I open my mouth, but then hesitate, remembering what April said last night about making an effort with Hadley. “Sure. Jolly Joe’s?”
“Uhm, I want to go to Pioneer Park.”
“That’s still around?” April wonders. “I used to go there as a kid.”
Fuck. It’s Saturday, which means Pioneer Park will be packed with little heathens that I can’t stand. I only like select children who tend to have parents whom I know.
“Can we?” Hadley brings her hands together as she pleads and bounces in her spot.
“Oh, sounds fun," April says, taking pleasure in this. "Merry-go-rounds, weekend parking, kids, people, autographs, farm animals, more people, all the things your daddy loves.”
A sly smile spreads on my mouth. “Sure. Pioneer Park it is, and a special guest of honor will join us.”
“Really? Who?” Hadley’s face lights up.
“Princess Sparkly Powder herself,” I declare.
It grabs April’s attention, and she turns to face me with a tight smile. “I’m joining in?”
“For crowds, candied apples, more kids, and people in costumes? Not to mention proof that I’m an attentive parent. Absolutely.” I don’t blink, as April and I are in a locked gaze.
April takes a deep breath. “Fine. But we are stopping at Jolly Joe’s for my coffee, so sign me up for this adventure.”
Hadley is already running off, listing what she will wear, leaving me in her wake to look at the woman who wants to challenge me on everything.
“Might want to wear a sweater. It might get nippy out, and we know how your nipples get,” I suggest with a satisfied smirk.
She begins to untie the knot of her towel above her perky tits. “Sure. I’ll just get naked first. Are you going to turn around or pull out your phone that you don’t know how to use?”
April turns around, dropping the towel to reveal a very naked back and a black thong. She takes pleasure in teasing me because that’s what it is. There is nothing about the last five seconds that I hate.
She is a willing participant in the image that will now haunt me all day for our impromptu group outing.