Chapter 15
15
Gage
Shayla:
I’m going to drop Luna’s stuff to you tonight after I have dinner with friends. Is that okay? Or would you prefer I bring it over tomorrow?
Me:
Either works. Whichever is best for you.
Shayla:
I’ll bring it tonight in case she needs any of it before tomorrow.
It seems Blair’s letter to Shayla a week ago did its job. Or maybe it was the argument I had with her. I braced for backlash, but instead, she’s been different. More present with Luna. She had her four nights this week and even called on the others. I don’t remember the last time I saw my little girl smile as much as she has this week.
Just before four on Sunday afternoon, I arrive to collect Luna from the birthday party Shayla dropped her at a couple of hours ago. The private room in this residential tower where the party’s being held has been transformed into a mini art studio. Easels and canvases are scattered around, half-finished masterpieces bursting with color. A table in the corner holds pastel cupcakes, juice in plastic cups, and a spread of kid-friendly snacks.
Luna’s grinning like she’s never been happier. And when I spot Sarah calmly dabbing at her canvas, I scan the room. Because where Sarah is, Amelia’s never far behind.
I spot her standing alone in the corner opposite the food, engrossed with her phone. Quietly keeping to herself while most of the parents are talking in groups. I run my gaze over her, taking in the blue jeans and simple white top she’s wearing. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and fuck if I don’t imagine getting my hands on it.
Saying no to her yesterday was fucking difficult. I want Amelia more than I’ve wanted any woman. And it’s getting harder to focus on the shit I need to, because my mind is constantly pulled back to her. I told her I’d give her space, but I’m not convinced I won’t start pushing.
She looks up just as I reach her. Our eyes lock. And right there, in that split second, I see it. The interest, the heat, the longing for something she’s not allowing herself to have.
“Hey,” she greets me, her cheeks flushing in that way I’ve started craving.
“How’s the party going? Any feedback from the girls yet?”
“Well,” she starts, shifting her weight onto the foot closest to me, her body leaning toward mine in the tiniest of ways that I don’t think she’s even aware of. “As you can imagine”—she says with a grin—“Luna has painted the masterpiece of all masterpieces. When I arrived, she was holding court, showing it to all the girls. And then she tried to help Sarah, but they had a differing of opinion over the bright colors Luna suggested she use. I do love watching those two together. Even when they’re disagreeing, they’re still the best of friends.”
I’m listening to every word she’s saying, but I’m having trouble not thinking about what she said to me yesterday. I want you to fuck me . Words that are now burned into my memory, right alongside the way Amelia’s voice sounds when she’s turned on.
“So, the party was a success.”
“Yes, thank god.” Her relief is real, and I get it. These things can go either way. Luna and Sarah have both had meltdowns at parties before, feeling left out, left behind, or just feeling miserable.
She lets out a soft breath and runs her fingers through her hair. As she does that, her perfume hits me. Something soft and floral. Not overwhelming, but enough to fuck with my focus. The kind of scent that makes a man want to lean in and find the exact spot it lingers strongest.
I’m distracted as hell by how close she is, how good she smells, and how much I want her when Luna barrels into my side like a missile, jolting me back into reality. “Daddy! Come see my masterpiece!” She takes hold of my hand and drags me to her painting.
She’s painted flowers in a field, all vivid pinks, reds, yellows, and greens. Luna has been blessed with creativity, and art is something she has a flair for. This painting is her best yet.
I crouch down to her level and listen while she details all her color choices. When she’s finished, I put my hand around her waist and say, “It’s beautiful, Luna.”
She beams and then turns to gesture at Sarah’s painting. “Look what Sarah painted! It’s beautiful, too.”
“It is.” I look at Sarah who’s uncomfortable with the kind of gushing praise my daughter enjoys. “You’ve done a great job, Sarah. Will you hang it on your wall?”
She nods, a shy smile filling her face. “If Mom lets me.”
“I’m sure she will.” I can’t imagine Amelia not encouraging her daughter in this way.
“Daddy.” Luna tugs on my arm, drawing my attention back. “Sarah and I were thinking, and we thought it would be fun if you took us to the science museum next weekend.”
“Sure. We’ll have to ask Sarah’s mom if she’s okay with that.”
Luna takes a deep breath, the kind she always does right before saying something important. “Well,” she says carefully, “her mom would have to come too. Because, you know, Daddy, she loves science. And it wouldn’t be fair if she didn’t get to go.”
Their expectant stares pin me in place as I glance between the two of them. And yeah, this has all the markings of a carefully orchestrated setup. I think I’m being matchmade by six-year-olds.
“Okay,” I agree, standing. “I’ll ask her.”
“Now?” Luna pushes.
“No, she’s busy. I’ll ask her later.” The last thing I want to do is put Amelia on the spot.
Luna glances over to Amelia before frowning at me. “She’s not busy, Dad.”
“Sweetheart,” I use my sterner voice, the one she knows to listen to. “I’ll ask her later.”
She doesn’t force the issue, but the firm press of her lips together says she’s not happy about it.
The girls get swept up in photos with the birthday girl after that. I go back to Amelia and try to find a moment to let her know our daughters are on a matchmaking quest, but don’t get the chance. We’re surrounded by other parents by that point. Then the girls join us, we say our goodbyes, and the opportunity is missed.
Later that night, once Luna is asleep, I text her.
Me:
I wanted to give you a heads-up that our daughters are in a matchmaking mood. They hit me with a request for us to take them to the science museum next weekend.
She replies almost instantly.
Amelia:
Okay, this suddenly makes so much more sense now! They brought up the science museum earlier and vaguely mentioned you coming too, but I thought they meant like transport logistics. Not matchmaking logistics.
Me:
I suspect it was all Luna.
Amelia:
I wonder who she learned that from?
Me:
I’m wounded.
Amelia:
You’ll survive.
Fuck, I like doing this with her.
Me:
I’m still giving you space, Amelia, but you should know it’s not easy.
She doesn’t come straight back this time.
Amelia:
Let’s go to the science museum with the girls and take it from there.
Me:
I never imagined the day would come when I’d need my kid to help me score a date.
Amelia:
Goodnight, Gage.
And now I know just how much of an obsession Amelia is becoming.
I’m accepting a date that involves children, the science museum, and no chance of sex. And looking forward to it like it’ll be the greatest fucking day of my year.