Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Juniper
My head is a jumble of thoughts this morning.
“Do you have to bring that pirate costume in today?” I call out to Riley.
She pops up from right behind me. “No need to shout, Mom.”
“I thought you were cleaning your teeth. Pirate costume is today, right?”
“No, next Friday,” she says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s for the assembly, which is next Friday.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Did you not sleep good, Mommy?” she says. “And why did Fizzy have a sleepover?” she asks.
“No, I didn’t get enough sleep. It’s made my brain fuzzy. That’s why I always tell you it’s important to get enough sleep.”
It isn’t just the lack of sleep that’s made my brain fuzzy, although it doesn’t help. Every time I try and focus on something, my thoughts drift to Fisher. How he seemed to worship my body. How incredible he felt over me, under me, inside me.
Maybe it’s just because I haven’t had sex for a long time, but last night was like something that I’ll never forget for as long as I live.
He was so in control and commanding, but at the same time so incredibly attentive to what I needed and wanted from him.
He was an equal mix of masculinity and fragility. He was just completely perfect.
I’d thought he was hot and fun before last night, and now? He’s… special. A special man.
“Mom,” Riley calls, pulling me out of more thoughts of Fisher.
“Yes, honey?”
“My lunch?” she says. “It’s not in my bag.”
“It’s not?” I scan the countertops, but it’s not out. “It’s gotta be. I know I made it.”
She opens her backpack wide, showing me that it’s not in there. Where else could it be?
I pace up and down in front of the cabinets, like it’s going to jump out at me.
“What about the refrigerator?” she asks.
I open the door, and there it is, like I prepared it for tomorrow or something.
I pull it out and hold it up.
“Mommy!” She collapses into giggles. “You need to wind up your brain today.”
“You’re right. I do. I hope yours is wound up too.”
I place the lunchbox into her bag, and she zips it up.
“My brain is always wound.”
I laugh. “Okay. You have your water?”
She nods.
“Sweater?”
“Mom, I’m wearing my sweater!”
I grin and wink at her. “You want another one?”
She rolls her eyes, and we head out. As we get to the car, a delivery guy pulls up.
“Mom,” she says. “Who’s that?”
The driver slides out of the cab. “Hey there. Got something for ya here.”
I’m not expecting anything. He goes around the back of his truck and pulls out the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen, already arranged in a vase.
Instantly, I know they’re from Fisher. But how? I only left him about five hours ago. How on earth did he manage to get flowers delivered to me this early?
“Thanks,” I say, signing for them.
They are the most beautiful shades of pink and yellow and green. They look almost wild. I look more closely and realize that the green foliage is juniper. My heart climbs in my chest at his thoughtful, romantic gesture.
“Can I take them?” Riley says.
“I think they might be a bit big for you,” he says.
I laugh as she tries to take them. They’re practically as big as her. I grab them, and we shuffle back into the house.
“Did you order these, Mommy?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Then who sent them?”
I shrug, pull the card from where it’s nestled in among the leaves, and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans. Riley doesn’t notice. Why would she? I don’t think I’ve ever had flowers delivered before.
“Let’s get you to school,” I say. “We’re going to be late.”
“But, Mommy, who sent us flowers?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
We get into my beat-up Honda and head out.
“I think it was Fisher,” she says from the back, and my heart splutters. How would she know that? “The guy from the diner. I think he likes you, Mommy. And when boys like girls, they give them flowers.”
“Is that right?” I say.
“Yes, it’s true. I saw it in a movie.”
“Okay then.”
“Is he going to be my new dad?”
I grip the steering wheel harder. I try and keep my voice as neutral as I can when I reply, “You have a dad, Riley. Why would you think Fisher is going to be your dad?”
She shrugs. “I never see my dad. If Fisher was my dad, I’d see him more.”
“Oh, honey. Fisher isn’t going to be your dad. Your dad is your dad. I know you wish you could see him more. Maybe I’ll try and set up a FaceTime with him this weekend?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding unenthusiastic.
Bill isn’t great at keeping in touch with Riley between visits. It’s not because he doesn’t love her. I know he does. But he’s busy and occupied. I just don’t think she’s at the front of his mind. Or at least, he doesn’t put her at the front of his mind.
Before he left, I warned him that he’d need to put structures in place.
Routines. If he wanted to stay a priority for her, she’d need to be a priority for him.
He assured me that he would, and in the beginning, it was fine.
He called every Sunday morning. And he’d send her postcards.
But as his new family grew, he started rearranging calls or missing them completely.
Seeing the disappointment in her eyes was heartbreaking.
It’s still heartbreaking. All the hope that she’s going to speak to someone who loves her, and then he cancels.
Sometimes, I think it would be easier if he cut all contact.
At least she could heal. But this way, she keeps being let down. She keeps getting hurt.
Whenever I raise the issue with Bill, he has an excuse. I can’t force him to be more reliable for Riley. I can’t see it ever changing. I get that she’d want to trade him in for another dad.
We pull up at school and I park. As we get out of the car, someone calls Riley’s name, but she doesn’t look up like she normally does.
“But if you married Fisher, then would he be my daddy?” she asks, as she turns to look at me.
It’s like an arrow to my chest. I wish I could give her that. Hope for a new daddy. A better, attentive, more present father. But I can’t. Certainly not with Fisher. But realistically, I can’t see myself ever being married to anyone. I’ve managed this long.
“I’m not going to marry Fisher, sweet girl.” I pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”
She pulls away and nods solemnly at me. “I am sad. I want a dad. Everyone has a dad except me.”
“I get that,” I say to her, and I pull her in for another hug. “It’s so hard,” I whisper against her pretty, soft hair.
Someone calls her name again.
“I’d better go, Mom. You need to get to work.”
I smile. She’s such an empathetic kid.
“I love you bunches,” she says.
“Love you double,” I reply, as I hook her backpack onto her arms.
She heads off over to the playground. Soon, she’s smiling and playing her favorite clapping games with her three best friends, and it makes me feel slightly better that she’s bounced back. For now.
I pull out the envelope that came with the flowers from my pocket and take out the card.
My heart soars in my chest at the message.
I’m still thinking of you.
You’re wonderful.
—Fisher
It’s been a while since a man thought I was wonderful. In fact, I’m not sure any man has ever thought I was wonderful. And it’s the only time I’ve ever been sent flowers.
I tap the card against my chest. If Riley spends any time with Fisher, there’s a danger her expectations will skyrocket.
And I don’t have much time when I’m not with her.
Fisher might think I’m wonderful, and I think he’s pretty wonderful, too.
It’s just, I’m not sure how much of him I’m going to be able to see before he goes back to New York and is gone forever.