Chapter 27 #2
“What happened with Amy wasn’t comparable,” I assured him.
“Hunter, you married her. You thought she was carrying your kid. You’re allowed to feel traumatized and have emotions over it.”
“I know,” I swallowed hard. “But it’s been years.”
“And yet, Catherine is the first girl you’ve given your heart to in the past decade,” he noted.
I swallowed again because the tension in my chest was building. “Amy made me into a fool. And I didn’t intentionally give Catherine my heart. I just kind of fell for her. I couldn’t stop myself.”
Dad laughed. “I may know a thing or two about that. Remember how I met your mom. It was unintentional. She was Flynn’s best friend.”
I exhaled. We had all heard the story a hundred times growing up about how he fell for his twin sister’s best friend.
“When things happen out of your control, that’s how you know it’s real. Have you ever felt this way before about a woman?” he asked.
“You’re digging deep tonight, Daddy-O,” I joked.
Dad gave me a keep-it-serious look.
“No. Catherine is different. She’s special. She’s so driven and kind, and our chemistry…”
“Whoa, I don’t need to know that,” Dad laughed.
I laughed too.
“So, you think she needs me to take action,” I said.
Dad nodded even though it wasn’t a question.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Dad said with a shrug. “But I’d do something, or you’re going to lose the girl.”
The thought scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t let that happen. I knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, and I had to stop protecting my heart because of my past. I had to own my feelings and dive off the diving board into the deep end.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied. “It’s what I’m here for.”
I smiled.
By the time I got home, Isla was on the living room floor with markers spread across the coffee table and a half-finished drawing in front of her.
The babysitter looked up from the couch when I walked in. “Everything was good. She ate dinner, did her reading, and tried to convince me that bedtime is optional.”
“It is,” Isla said without looking up.
The babysitter smiled, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door after I paid her. Once she was gone, Isla jumped up and ran at me. I caught her against my chest, one arm around her back, the other around her legs when she wrapped herself around me like she had when she was little.
“Hi, Bug.”
“Hi, Dad.”
She hugged me tighter than usual. That did something to the hollow place in my chest. I carried her to the couch and dropped down with her beside me.
She immediately tucked herself against my side, like she had decided I needed the contact more than she did.
She showed me the drawing she was working on, which was apparently an ocean but also maybe a portal, depending on how the blue marker situation evolved.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
I looked down at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, picking at the edge of her sock. “You were sad all week.”
My chest tightened. “I wasn’t sad.”
She gave me a look that reminded me of my mom. “Daddy.”
I sighed and leaned my head back against the couch. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
She nodded like that confirmed something important. “Mila said Catherine is sad too.”
Everything in me went still.
I looked at her. “Mila said that?”
“Yeah. She said Catherine was in her room a lot and her eyes were puffy and she didn’t even get mad when Jaden ate the last brownie, which means something is seriously wrong.”
The words hit me harder than I was ready for. Hearing she was crying in her room while I decided which part of my life to sacrifice first made my chest feel like it was cracking open.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “I hate that she’s sad.”
Isla looked up at me, serious now. “Then do something.”
“I’m trying to figure out what,” I admitted.
“You should get her back,” Isla suggested.
“It’s not that simple, Bug.”
“Why not?” she asked, pushing her lower lip out and making a pouty face that hurt my heart more than it already did.
“Because grown-up feelings are complicated.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s what adults say when they don’t want kids to understand.”
I looked at her. She wasn’t wrong. “I messed up,” I said quietly. “And Catherine has a lot to lose if she chooses me.”
Isla thought about that for a second, then sat up straighter. “So, you have to show her that choosing you is a good idea.”
A laugh almost came out, but it got stuck somewhere in my throat. “That easy?”
“No.” She shook her head gravely. “We need a plan.”
“We?” I raised my brows, worried about where this was going. Isla had a vivid imagination.
“Yes.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “It’s like The Parent Trap.”
I blinked. “It’s absolutely not like The Parent Trap. No one’s trapping anyone.”
“Not trapping,” she said, waving one hand like I was missing the artistic vision. “Planning.”
Oh dear.
“I’m not trying to get two parents back together,” she added. “I’m trying to help you get Catherine back.”
My heart gave one hard, painful beat.
“Bug.” She was invested, and I didn’t want her to get her hopes up.
“What?”
“I can’t use you to fix this,” I clarified.
“You’re not using me. I’m helping.” She slid off the couch and ran back to the coffee table, grabbing a clean sheet of paper and a marker. “First, we need to know what Catherine likes.”
“I know what Catherine likes.”
Isla gave me another look. “Then why isn’t she here?”
Low blow. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and watched my daughter write PLAN at the top of the page in purple marker.
I should’ve stopped her. Instead, I thought about Catherine’s silence.
Her careful eyes at the arena. The texts she wouldn’t answer and the fact that she was sad too.
Then Isla’s words hit differently. She was right. I needed a plan to win her back.
“You’re right,” I said.
Isla looked up, pleased. “I know.” She grinned and underlined PLAN three times. “Exactly.”
I reached for the marker.
“Okay,” I said. “But we aren’t calling it The Parent Trap.”
Isla considered that. Then she wrote Operation Catherine at the top of the page instead.
I stared at it. “That might be worse.”
“It’s perfect,” she beamed, proud of herself. I loved this kid so damn much.
For the first time in a week, I almost believed her.