Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bennett
Somehow, Delaney said it was okay for me to take Leia out for ice cream after dinner. Since it’s the last week of school, they don’t have any homework.
Wren wasn’t pleased when I explained to her that it would just be Leia and me. Nash was home and said they’d make their own sundaes that would be so much better than Sprinkle Town’s.
As I turn my truck down Delaney’s driveway, a nervous knot rests in my stomach.
Will she ever see me as her father? Allow me to see the true little girl behind her shyness?
God, I hope so. I keep reminding myself that I need to take baby steps even when I want to wrap her in my arms and hold her tight.
Tell her how much I love her just because she’s mine.
Every time I hold myself back, my anger rises.
And it’s usually pointed toward Delaney.
I’m not even parked when Delaney walks Leia out of the house.
I leave the engine running and climb out, meeting them halfway.
“Hi, Leia,” I say like a stranger when she’s my own blood. She should be running into my arms and me squatting to grab her and swing her around. She should at least be smiling.
Delaney nudges her with a kind hand on her back.
“Hi,” she says.
No Daddy.
Patience, Bennett. One day this nightmare will be over.
“I didn’t think you’d need the booster. You have Wren’s, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I—” Why am I embarrassed to admit that I already bought another one for Leia?
’Cause it’s presumptuous, you idiot.
“I bought her one. In case I ever have them both.” I run my hand down the back of my head and pull on my neck.
“Oh,” Delaney says. “That’s nice.” Again, her hand falls to Leia’s back.
“Thank you,” Leia says.
It’s clearly their thing and how Delaney gives her daughter a silent sign to be polite. So much better than saying it out loud. So Delaney to do that.
“You two should go.” Delaney scrunches down and holds out her arms.
Leia walks into them with no hesitation. Jealousy slithers up my spine. Delaney whispers something, kisses her cheek, and stands, guiding Leia’s hand toward me.
I hold out my hand, and Leia takes it. “We’ll be an hour or so.”
Delaney nods, one hand across her stomach, her other elbow resting on it with her hand on her cheek. “Have fun.” It was a failed attempt to show excitement.
I remember the first time I ever left Wren for a conference, so I understand her hesitation.
“Butterflies,” Leia quietly says when she sees her booster.
I might have asked Wren a few questions, and she said Leia loved butterflies.
Had I known this whole time that she was mine, I’d know that myself.
I wave to Delaney, denying the urge to walk over and tell her it’s me, I’ll keep her safe and have her back to her in an hour. But soothing Delaney’s anxiety isn’t my job anymore.
The drive is quiet, and I keep looking at her through my rearview mirror, but she’s staring out the window.
After I park, I help her out of my truck, and the door to Sprinkle Town squeaks on its hinge as I open it, and Leia steps inside, her gaze roaming every inch. During the summer, there’s a line out the door, but since school is still in, and it’s a weeknight, we have our choice of booths.
It’s seat yourself, and Leia looks at me to make the decision.
“You pick.” I hold out my hand, and she scans the room again.
She stops at the booth closest to the door. “Is this okay?”
I smile. “Perfect.” We both slide in, and I grab a menu that sits in the metal holder at the end of the table and hand it to her. “Do you have a favorite flavor of ice cream?”
“Cookie dough.”
“Has your mom brought you here yet?”
She shakes her head.
“You can pick the flavor ice cream you want and make it into a sundae. Then you pick the sauce, whipped cream, nuts or candy, and of course, sprinkles.”
She laughs since the entire place is decorated with sprinkle graphics.
“Do you have a favorite?” she asks, and her question spurs my happiness.
“Yup, but it’s kind of boring. Vanilla. But wait until you see how many toppings I get.”
She studies the menu again.
“Hey, you two. What can I get you?” Marge poises her pad in front of us.
Leia looks up, and Marge turns her attention to me.
“Marge, have you met Leia Moore? She just moved here not too long ago.”
Marge smiles. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I know your mommy though. Haven’t crossed paths just yet.”
Leia smiles softly, and I’m sure Marge is wondering why I’m here with Leia. The news will eventually travel around our small town. People will find out that the perfect marriage I made everyone believe I had with Kristie was a lie.
“What’s your pick, Leia?” I ask her.
Thankfully, Marge isn’t the nosey type. Sure, everyone in Willowbrook is to an extent, but she’s not going to go in the backroom and call everyone she knows.
“Cookie dough and hot fudge and whipped cream and double sprinkles please.”
“Good choice.” Marge jots it down. “I assume you want a cherry or two?”
“Two please.” Leia gives her a soft smile.
Marge taps the tip of her pen to the paper. “Got it.” She flips over the page of her pad. “Give it to me.” She looks at Leia. “He takes a whole page just for his order.”
Leia’s eyes widen. The fact they match mine stalls me for a second before Marge clears her throat.
“Vanilla, caramel and hot fudge sauce, whipped cream, nuts, Oreos, Heath bits, triple sprinkles both chocolate and colored.”
“Whoa, going light on me tonight.” She laughs. “Waters?”
“Please,” I answer.
Her eyes linger a little longer, taking Leia in before venturing back to hand in the order.
Silence falls over the table for a moment.
I take a breath, then another, and lean forward on my elbows. “Leia?”
She glances at me. “Yeah?”
I run my hands together. “Can I ask you something, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer?”
“Okay.”
I nod, steadying myself, but I don’t want to pretend we’re not both struggling here. “How do you feel about me being your dad?”
Her eyes dip to the table, and I figure I’m not going to get an answer. Finally, she shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fair,” I say quietly. “You didn’t get a say in any of it.”
She blinks fast. “You’re different than him.”
I try to give her a reassuring nod. “I am. Does that bother you?”
She shakes her head, then she must be giving herself a little pep talk inside because she straightens her gaze to meet mine. “Is it bad that I still love him?”
That hits harder than I expect. I shake my head slowly. “No. Not at all. I’m sure he loves you too. Sometimes adults do bad things, but what he did has nothing to do with how much he loves you. Being a dad, I can guarantee that.”
“But I’m mad at him too.”
My chest squeezes. “Understandable.”
“I like you.” God, I feel like I’m in gym class and was the first picked for a team. “Wren loves you. You seem nice.”
“Thank you.”
After a long pause, she says, “I want to get to know you better.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I say. “We can go as slow as you need. But, Leia, I want to be here. For real. Not just because I’m supposed to be. Because I want to know who you are. What you love. What you hate. Everything.”
She smiles, and my heart warms like a ray of sunshine just rose over the horizon.
“I love butterflies,” she says. “Did Wren tell you that?”
“She did,” I say sheepishly, ashamed I had to ask anyone else what my daughter likes. “But I wish I had heard it from you.”
“Did Wren tell you about Kayla beating the boys at basketball during recess today?”
“She didn’t, but I’d love to hear it.”
Leia starts in by wiggling in her seat to get more comfortable, then she gives me the whole story, much like Wren does but in a more methodical and less excitable way. I hang on every word, studying her cadence and little hitches or small words she adds.
God, she’s a little Delaney.
Marge brings over our ice cream sundaes, and Leia gets onto her knees, picking up her spoon.
She eyes mine. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Do you want to try some?” I slide it closer, and she dips her spoon in and takes a taste.
“It’s okay. I don’t like those hard things,” she says, scooping her own sundae on her spoon. Then she stops and glances at me. “Did you want to try mine?”
“If you don’t mind. Sometimes it’s the best way to find something new that you like, trying someone else’s.” I take a small spoonful, and she watches me the whole time. “I might have to try that cookie dough next time. That’s a winner.”
A proud smile crosses her face, and she digs into her sundae.
I take peeks after every bite or two. She’s eating so fast I worry she’ll get a brain freeze, but I don’t say anything. I just enjoy sitting across from her, sharing ice cream with my daughter.