Chapter 7 #2
My daughter’s laughter still echoes in my ears, their conversations on repeat, and I can’t help but want to smile, thinking about how they’re like two peas in a pod.
Eloise slipped right into the dynamic Maze and I had built, especially over this last year.
What my daughter needs more than anything is love and fun. Especially from women in her life.
And there was Eloise, providing Mazie with everything she needed, all while dousing us in a kind of addictive chaos, a flurry of energy and sunshine. I could get used to it.
Although my gut dips when I think about being in a relationship again. It isn’t only me who could be hurt, but Mazie too. Not that I think Eloise would ever deliberately hurt anyone, but things happen. Good people make bad decisions.
Amy’s face flickers in my memory, a reminder of all I have to lose. And while the idea of committing to anyone stalls me out, I’m not averse to daydreaming.
Or indulging in spur-of-the-moment purchases. On our way home from errands yesterday, Mazie spotted a pink cruiser in the window of the bike shop, offhandedly pointing it out, and I pulled a uey.
It had Eloise written all over it. I pictured her riding it, hair flying, smile bright, laughter trailing behind her. So, I bought it. Just because.
I brought it with me today. Right now, I have it in the back of the shop with a big bow on it. I’m not sure when I plan on giving it to her; I didn’t think that far ahead, but it’s there. Waiting for her.
My imagination conjures up the vision of Eloise seeing it for the first time at the same moment I spot her in real life. Out front of her bakery. With Kyle standing way too fucking close. Her body language screams discomfort, and I march right over, not quiet about it.
They both pivot toward me, and Eloise’s shoulders physically fall as if she’s relieved to see me. On the other hand, Kyle is none-too-happy, according to the way his face pinches.
Good.
I jut my chin to Eloise. “What’s up, sunshine?”
She shifts closer to me. “I was about to head home.”
I tip my head in Kyle’s direction. “When this guy came up to talk to you?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but he cuts her off with a stupid laugh that grates like nails on a chalkboard. “I need my daily fill of Ellie.”
“He asked me to go out,” Eloise explains.
“I told him I have plans. Again,” she murmurs so only I can hear, and I slant my gaze his way, fisting my hands at my sides.
This guy is either the dumbest motherfucker on the planet, or he won’t take no for an answer.
While I don’t like either one of those choices, the latter is definitely worse than the former.
“Get the fuck outta here, Kyle,” I say, and I’m not sure if she means to do it or not, but Eloise leans into me.
Without thinking, I place my hand at the top of her spine, my fingertips wrapping around her neck, catching on loose strands of her hair.
The words are out of my mouth before I can help it. “Leave my girl alone.”
Kyle’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “Sorry, man. I…” He gestures between us while tripping backward. “I didn’t know you were together. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”
It’s always the pieces of shit who need another man to stake a claim before they’ll leave a woman alone, and I roll my eyes at this motherfucker.
Next to me, Eloise tips her head back to meet my gaze, surprise coloring her cheeks, but she doesn’t say a word. I don’t correct Kyle. I like the sound of it too much. Because I’m a son of a bitch.
Once Kyle’s gone, I release my hold on her. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head, babbling, “No, it’s fine. It’s totally cool. Don’t worry about it. That was actually really helpful. You were helpful. It’s like he never listened to what I told him. He only wants to hear himself talk, I think. So, you saved me. Don’t apologize. I should thank you instead.”
She lowers her hands from where she’d been flapping them between us. Always in motion, this one. “So, anyway. Thank you. I appreciate you doing the whole scary act thing.”
“Scary act thing?” I angle myself so I’m in front of her, looking down at her. “You think it’s an act?”
She sets her hands on her hips, trying on an attitude I’m positive I could fuck out of her. “I know it’s an act.”
I huff and fold my arms across my chest. Her eyes lower, and I let her stare at my ink for a while since she seems to like it, before finally clearing my throat. She zips her attention back up to my face, and I arch my brow. Her cheeks turn pink.
Fucking adorable.
“You done staring?” I tease, and she slaps her hand over her eyes.
“I can’t help it! You’re like some beautiful bronze statue or something.”
“Yeah?”
She drops her hand, her guileless green eyes finding mine immediately. “Yeah. You own a mirror, don’t you?”
I nod.
“So you know what you look like.”
I nod again.
“Then why are you surprised?”
It’s so stupid to think, let alone say out loud, but… “You said I’m beautiful. No one’s ever called me that before.”
“Oh.” She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Well. You are. I mean, behind all the mean mugging.”
I give in to the smile that’s been threatening to sneak out since she started rambling, and she grins. Triumphant and wide and all mine.
I know she’s proud of herself for being able to make me lose my “mean mug.” And that’s fine.
It’s true, after all.
She should be proud.
Shit. I’m proud of her, and I’m the one she’s turning inside out.
And I think it’s time for her reward. “Give me your bike.”
She blinks, confused. “What? Why?”
“Just trust me.” I hold out my hand, and she hesitantly wheels her bike over.
“What’re you gonna do with it?”
I lift the hunk of scrap metal. “Trash it.”
“What?” she nearly shrieks.
“How long have you had this bike?”
“I don’t know. About a year.”
“You’ve ridden this piece of shit for a year?”
She shrugs. “It was free, and I’m not going far.”
“That’s not the point.” I imagine her falling off the damn thing from the chain breaking again or having a flat tire in the middle of the road and getting into an accident. “This thing is dangerous for you to ride.”
“It’s not a unicycle,” she argues, and I stare at her for a moment, thrown off. The way her mind works. What I wouldn’t give to crawl into her brain for an hour or two.
“You’ve ridden a unicycle before?”
“I tried, and that’s dangerous. I went face first into the pavement. I had blood—”
“Please stop.” I close my eyes, not wanting to picture her bleeding or hurt.
She elbows my side, laughing. “The big guy gets queasy, huh?”
Only from the idea of her injured, but I’m not about to give myself away like that, so I motion for her to follow me around the block and across the street.
She chatters away the whole time about nothing in particular.
I open the door to my shop to a few curious glances from Luis and Shawn, but I pass by them silently as Eloise waves to them, greeting them happily.
I set down her rusted deathtrap because it’s going in the trash as soon as she’s gone, and then I tell her to close her eyes. I take her hand in mine to lead her to the back, positioning her so she’s facing her new bike.
“Open.”
There are a few seconds of silence, and then she lets out a low breath. “Is this…for me?” When she brings her eyes up to mine, I nod, and she covers her mouth. “Oh my god.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good Oh my god or bad, and I rub my hand over my beard and jaw. “Do you like it?”
She circles the bubblegum-pink cruiser, gingerly running her hand over the white leather seat, up the frame to the handlebars with the giant bow, and down to the wicker basket in the front. It’s a little girly.
A lot girly.
But I assumed she’d like it.
Yet, she’s still not saying anything. I wait patiently until she turns back to me, tears in her eyes. “Roman…”
I lift my eyebrows in question.
“Is this for me?”
“Yeah.”
“You bought it for me?”
I nod. “If you don’t like it—”
“I love it.”
I exhale audibly, my shoulders drooping. “Good, I was worried—”
She throws herself at me. “Thank you.” She wraps her arms around my neck. “Thank you so much.”
I play it off, even as I loop my arms around her waist, squeezing and lifting her a bit so she’s on her tippy-toes and I’m holding all her weight. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal.” Her tears wet my cheek. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet. I like holding her better than talking anyway. She breathes hot against my neck, and I dig my fingertips into her sides. She giggles, mumbling something that sounds like, “You’re strong.”
She has no idea, but the idea of lifting her up completely so her legs curl around my waist is too much, and I let her go.
Making sure she’s on her feet, I keep my hands on her hips, only releasing her to cup her smiling face in my palms. I wipe the wet streaks on her face, allowing myself to drag my thumb over her lips once.
They’re plump and perfect and kissable.
“Go on. Lemme see you take it for a spin,” I tell her before opening the door for her. She guides it outside and hops on, pedaling it in circles.
She laughs. “This is amazing!”
And my chest opens up, making a hole wide enough for her to ride the damn thing right inside. I’d welcome it. Leave tracks all over me. Evidence of the happiness I feel in this moment.
After a few figure eights and gleeful sounds that I previously only thought came from cartoon characters, Eloise pulls up alongside me.
She puts the kickstand down and hugs me again.
This time, I stoop lower so she doesn’t have to reach so far and duck my face into her neck.
She smells of sugar and cinnamon. Feels like everything right in the world.
“I love it, Roman. Thank you. I’ll take good care of it. I promise.” She leans back so our gazes meet. “You can have free baked goods for life.”
A chuckle rumbles in my throat. It’s rustier than her old bike, but I suspect it’ll get more of a workout with this girl in my life. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”
Heat laces her answering smile, her emerald eyes going heavy lidded, and my mind races with all the ways I could put that same look on her face again, but the alarm on my phone interrupts my thoughts and this conversation.
I release her to silence it, showing her the few daily alarms I have set. “I have to pick Mazie up from school.”
“I have, like, a thousand alarms set on my phone too. But they’re reminders for me to do basic stuff like take my pills and brush my teeth.” Then she realizes what she’s said and rolls her eyes at herself. “Awkward.”
But the silence that settles between us isn’t awkward. It’s a good type of quiet. The comfortable kind. Where we don’t want to move because we don’t want to be anywhere else.
Except I have to be somewhere else.
I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “See you ’round.”
“Bye, Roman.” She bites into her lower lip, fighting her growing smile—a tragedy—then hops on her bike. I watch her pedal away before trashing her old bike in the dumpster and settling behind the wheel of my Tahoe. It’s not until I check the rearview mirror to back up that I notice I’m smiling.