Chapter 7
SEVEN
GABE
“Abbs, are you ready to go?”
“One more minute!” she yells down the stairs.
I shake my head to myself with a sigh. She’s been saying that for the past half hour. I know she hasn’t mastered how to tell time yet, but I’m starting to get the feeling that my daughter is delaying us on purpose.
The back door opens, and I peer down the hall just in time to see Hallie sneak into the kitchen. I have no doubt that Abbie will take longer than a minute, so I follow after her.
“Foster,” I say.
She jumps a little at my voice but spins to face me. “Yeah?”
“You don’t have to tiptoe. This is your kitchen, too.”
At least until the one out in the guesthouse is usable. Then Hallie won’t have a reason to come inside multiple times a day. She’s probably counting down the minutes, but I’m dreading it.
The past couple weeks since she officially moved into the guesthouse have been nice. More than nice. The awkwardness has been slowly slipping away, and it’s starting to feel like it used to between us. Like nothing ever happened.
Hallie’s cheeks flush. She turns away and drops her dirty dishes into the sink. She also refuses to use the damn dishwasher. “I just don’t want to bother you,” she says.
You can bother me. Every day, forever .
“You’re not. I want you to feel comfortable here. Make yourself at home.”
She nods, but I know she’s only doing so to placate me. As soon as I turn around, she’ll go back to only partially existing, folding herself in half so she takes up a fraction of the space.
But I want her to take up space. I want her here, in my home. I want her , plain and simple. The years and the distance did nothing to make me forget that.
Against my better judgment, I move closer. Being in Hallie’s proximity is dangerous on a good day, but especially when she’s wearing whatever perfume she’s got on today. It invades my nose, mixing with the sweet scent of her shampoo.
The tap is on now, filling the sink with a little water. I wait until Hallie shuts it off to speak. “I mean it. You’re not a bother. Alright?”
She offers me a small smile as she scrubs at a plate. “Alright.”
“I’m ready!” Abbie calls. I hear her shoes hit the landing, and then she’s skipping into the kitchen. She grabs my hand and starts to tug. “Daddy, come on! We gotta go.”
Hallie looks over her shoulder, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. “Where are you off to?” she asks Abbie.
“The fair!”
Hallie smiles. “I hope you have fun.” She gestures to me with her thumb. “Make your dad buy you lots of cotton candy.”
My daughter’s face turns serious. “I love the pink kind, but blue is really good, too.” Then her head cocks to the side as she continues to study Hallie. “Do you wanna come with us?”
Hallie pauses. Some suds from the dishwater drip off her hands and onto the tile floor. “To the fair?”
Abbie nods. “Yeah! Mommy always goes on the rides with me because Daddy gets pukey, but she’s gotta work. So you can come, and we can have so much fun!”
“ Hey ,” I interject, tugging on her braid. “I do not get pukey.”
Abbie looks up at me and arches her brow, looking a little too much like Larissa in this moment. “You do, too!”
Hallie giggles. “You really want me to go on rides with you? Are you sure?”
Abbie smiles as her head bobs enthusiastically. “Yes! Please, please, please ?”
Hallie dries her hands on a towel as she thinks over her answer. I know her, though. She wouldn’t be able to say no to Abbie even if she wanted to.
“Okay,” she agrees, “as long as your dad is alright with it. I don’t want to crash your day together.”
Abbie turns to me, eyes pleading. “It’s okay, right, Daddy?”
“Of course.” I look up at Hallie. “You’re always welcome, Foster.”
She meets my gaze, holding it. Years of meaning seem to travel between us. Then she grins at Abbie. “Lead the way.”
The Thanksgiving weekend fair is a tradition in our family that started when my siblings and I were little. The fair runs from Friday night into Monday afternoon, and Mom and Dad would take us every year. Since Abbie was old enough to start going on rides, I made it a point to bring her, too.
Sometimes, the weather isn’t all that great and some events get rained out, but this weekend is mild and the sky is a clear blue. Still, there’s a bite to the air that signals fall is upon us.
Abbie bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet as we wait in line at the entrance. Once I’ve paid the fifteen bucks for our admission—much to Hallie’s disagreement—we get wristbands strapped to our wrists and sent on our way.
Immediately, we’re thrust into the throng. A lot of cottagers use this weekend as their last hurrah before they pack up for the winter, so most of the people here aren’t locals.
We walk along a stretch full of food trucks and tents, where vendors are selling their wares. Carole has a booth set up for the gallery, and she waves as we pass by. Then Abbie is grabbing my hand, dragging me toward the colourful lights of the midway.
“I’ve only ever been to the fair once,” Hallie says at my side. A scream coming from a nearby ride cuts through the air, and she winces. “I forgot how loud it is.”
My brows raise in surprise. “Really? That was your first time, when we went in grade twelve?”
She nods as she fiddles with her yellow wristband, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah. It was too overwhelming for Pops, and my mom…” She trails off. “Well, her idea of fun was anything but spending time with me.”
Hallie’s strained relationship with her mother is by no means a secret. Still, every time Hallie mentions parts of her upbringing like that, it damn near breaks my heart.
“Strawberries!” Abbie squeals, cutting off our conversation. “Let’s do that one first!”
I share a look of commiseration with Hallie as I let my daughter pull me to the back of the line.
I hate these damn spinning strawberries, and I know Hallie does, too.
After she finished making out with her boyfriend, Clara made us ride them the last time Hallie came to the fair.
We both came away with pounding headaches.
Thankfully, Abbie doesn’t know that the wheel in the middle of our car can control how fast you spin. I don’t volunteer that information as we settle into our seats. Instead, I let her enjoy the default pace of the ride and try to avoid looking outside our car to avoid motion sickness.
“You’re looking a little green over there, Bowman,” Hallie teases.
I grimace. “The rides are admittedly not my favourite. I don’t love being tossed around.”
“But you suggested the Ferris wheel last time! Why’d you do that if you didn’t want to go on it?”
Simple—I wanted to be close to her. For just a little while. And that led to me almost kissing her. I can’t say that, though, so I skirt the truth.
I shrug. “I thought you’d have fun.”
Soon after, the ride ends, much to my relief. Abbie is grinning as she hops out of the big, metal strawberry. I’m slow to follow.
Hallie glances at me in concern. “Maybe you should sit the next one out. I really don’t mind riding with her.”
I arch a brow. “I didn’t peg you as an adrenaline junkie.”
With a laugh, she points toward Abbie’s next ride of choice: a small rollercoaster styled like a dragon. “After this, I might go skydiving.”
The rollercoaster is rather tame, but watching the way it makes my baby girl light up, it’s worth its weight in gold.
And when I look at the woman sitting beside her, my heart nearly stops working altogether.
Hallie’s smile has always been breathtaking, but right now, she looks so carefree.
The tension that seems to always rest in her shoulders is nowhere to be found.
She looks so happy with the wind whipping her hair behind her, and damn, is she beautiful.
What I wouldn’t give to see that expression on her face every day.
After the roller coaster, Abbie starts tugging us along to our next destination. If she had it her way, she’d tackle every ride and rigged game in the place.
“Oh, can we get those ?” Abbie asks, stopping short. Her eyes are wide as she points toward the funnel cake stand.
I turn to Hallie. “Apparently we’re getting funnel cake. Do you want one?”
She chews on her lip as she contemplates, and then she nods. “Yeah, I think I do.”
The line moves quickly, and soon it’s our turn. I step up to the window and order a cake to share with Abbie, because those things are almost the size of her head and she doesn’t need that much sugar in one evening. Then I step aside and ask, “Which one do you want?”
Hallie shakes her head. “I can get my own.”
I hand a twenty to the teenager manning the register. “Don’t take her money.”
She huffs as she rolls her eyes. “Gabriel.”
I grin. “There’s a line forming behind you, Foster. Better make it quick.”
When she looks over her shoulder and realizes I wasn’t lying, she quickly places her order and then steps to the side. She crosses her arms as she bumps me with her shoulder, glaring softly at me. I laugh, throwing my arm around her and tugging her against my side.
We both freeze.
A decade ago, neither one of us would have thought anything of my actions. A decade ago, she probably would have leaned into me, even if she was being stubborn. A decade ago, she could stand to be close to me.
I remove my arm and take a careful step away, putting distance between us. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“It’s fine,” she says. But she refuses to look at me.
Now more than ever, I wish I could go back in time. Back to that day. If I could, I’d keep my mouth shut. As it stands, I want to fully repair things between us. But I worry it’s ten years too late, and anything I try will just be in vain.
For the next few minutes, we stand there uncomfortably as we wait for our funnel cakes. Abbie chatters on about the fair and how much fun she’s having, oblivious to the tension mounting between me and Hallie.
Fuck, I hate this .
When our desserts are ready, we find a flimsy plastic table to sit at. Abbie climbs onto the chair to my right, leaving the other side of the table to Hallie. She chooses the seat across from me, like always.
We’re destined to be on opposing sides forever, it seems.
Voices and laughter float around us as we eat. Usually, I find comfort in the chaos, but now it only functions as background noise to my swirling thoughts.
Abbie giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “Hallie, you got fluff on your lip.”
Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Fluff?”
I chuckle. “Whipped cream.”
Hallie’s cheeks turn pink instantly. “Oh my God.” She searches around for her napkin, but it must’ve blown off the table in the breeze. Her eyes connect with mine, full of helplessness.
Ah, hell.
Reaching across the table, I swipe the drop of whipped cream off her lip with my thumb. Then I lick my thumb clean. The whole time, Hallie barely breathes, her gaze fixed on me.
I expected her to freeze like she did when I put my arm around her before. Or maybe jerk back. But despite her stilted breathing, she hasn’t run away. I take that as a good sign.
“Um, thanks,” she squeaks.
I lean back in my chair with a grin. “Anytime.”
“Daddy, my hands are sticky ,” Abbie declares. She holds her palms up, showing me how the chocolate sauce from our funnel cake has begun to act like glue between her fingers.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Hallie says quickly, standing from her seat. “I’ll help you wash up.”
Before I can blink, the two take off. Hallie holds Abbie’s chocolate-covered hand so she doesn’t get lost in the crowd. I busy myself with tossing our empty plates in the garbage, then start walking in the direction of the bathrooms.
Based on how quick Hallie was to jump up from the table, I spoke too soon. I thought maybe she decided to stay, for real this time, but she didn’t.
She’s still running.