Chapter 69
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Renthrow
“Daddy, I want to wear my princess dress to Vinnie’s today,” Gordie says, turning her motorcycle toy around and around.
“Sweetheart, you can’t wear a princess dress to a playdate.”
“Why not?” She twists from between my legs to look at me.
I pause with the brush halfway to her hair. That’s a good question. Why can’t she again?
“We need to wash it first, and Daddy only does laundry on Sundays, not Saturdays,” I inform her, running the brush through her hair and then holding one side tight in my fist.
Gordie makes a disgruntled sound and continues turning her toy around.
I finish with one ponytail, dip my fingers into the hair cream, and apply it to the next half of her head. Then I scoop that part up and tie it with a ponytail.
“All done.” I lean over to give Gordie a kiss on the forehead.
She pouts at me, her mouth scrunched.
With a sigh, I offer, “How about I put bows in your ponytails today?”
She brightens and whips her head up and down in agreement.
After I’ve added two pink Hello Kitty-themed bows to her hair, I get a message from the second-hand store.
It’s your lucky day. We’ve got exactly one in stock.
Nice.
“Gordie,” I say, pocketing my phone.
“Hm.” My daughter tears her attention away from her reflection in the mirror and looks at me. “Yes, Daddy?”
I take her hand and kneel in front of her. “What do you think about us hanging out with Cordelia more?”
Gordie brightens. “Will we see Delia today?”
If I have my way.
“I’m not sure,” I answer hesitantly. “But I’d like her to be with us as much as I can.”
“How much?” Her eyes are filling with wonder and excitement.
“Uh…” I tug my collar away from my neck, suddenly hot. “I’d like her to spend her evenings with us. And sometimes, she might even have dinner with us and tuck you into bed at night.”
And I might return the favor later.
“Is Delia going to be my mommy?” Gordie shrieks in glee.
I wince. “Pumpkin, Cordelia is…”
My mind goes blank. Then I remember what Cordelia called me in the garage and latch onto that.
“…She’s a special friend.”
“I want Delia to be my mommy,” Gordie insists.
This isn’t going over well. Cordelia was clear about her lack of interest in being a wife and a mother. Though I suspect that those fears come from Ray’s poisonous words, there’s a chance she really means it.
Under any other circumstances, that would have been the end of us. But I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve seen how Cordelia treats Gordie.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that she puts my daughter first. Though she doesn’t want to be called a mother, she’s there for Gordie in a way that my ex isn’t.
A person should be judged by their actions. And despite Cordelia’s words, her actions say that she wants to be a part of our lives and would fit amazingly well with us—maybe not as a mother and not as a wife but… as the ‘special friend’ that we need.
Unfortunately, complicated adult matters are harder to translate to a child. If we have any shot of this working, I need Gordie to understand what a relationship between me and Cordelia would be like.
“Even though Cordelia would be around all the time, and we both like her very much, she’s…different than a mommy.”
“Why can’t Delia be my mommy?” Gordie demands.
“Because you already have a mommy, pumpkin.”
“But she’s not here. She doesn’t love me. Delia’s here. Delia loves me.”
My eyes widen. “Just because your mommy isn’t here doesn’t mean—” A sudden thought enters my brain. Are Gordie’s withdrawal episodes tied to her mother? Why hasn’t it occurred to me before?
I lick my lips. “Gordie…are you sad because your mommy isn’t here?”
“I’m not sad.”
“Then are you angry?”
Gordie hesitates. And then she nods.
My fingers tighten on her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She winces, and I realize I’m holding on too tight. Immediately, I release my hold. My throat thickens with emotions as I say, “Pumpkin, you know you can talk to Daddy about anything.”
Bottom lip trembling, she admits, “I didn’t want to make you sad.”
“You can never make me sad.” I pull my little girl into my arms, my heart shattering at how lonely she must have felt. “Can you tell me what you really feel about your mom?”
“I don’t like her,” Gordie mumbles.
I pull back, ready to scold her for it and remind her to respect her mother. Then I realize that this is the reason she kept it inside.
Gordie blinks. “You always tell me that Mommy loves me and she’s just busy. But everyone else has a mommy that’s busy. And their mommies are here. They don’t only speak to their mommies on the phone.”
My Adam’s apple bobs as I swallow.
“I don’t want to talk to Mommy on the phone anymore. I don’t like it. But if I tell you I don’t want to talk to her, you get sad. And you tell me that Mommy doesn’t call often, so I should talk to her.”
My eyes fill with tears. “I-I never meant to force you. I just… I didn’t want you to feel like you have to choose between Daddy or Mommy.”
Gordie’s turning the motorcycle around and around even faster. The toy that Cordelia casually gave to her is much like Chance’s fidget spinner, a reliever of her anxiety.
Seeing how fast that toy is going, Gordie’s anxiety is incredibly high.
The pain in my heart increases.
I did that to her.
Why didn’t I see before? Why did I keep pushing and pushing her? I’d noticed that she was getting reluctant about the calls and asking more questions about where her mom was, but I kept pretending everything was okay. I kept pushing off any difficult conversations.
And for what? All for my own ego. I wasn’t fully thinking of Gordie. Deep down…I was worried about other people’s opinions of me. I was terrified that people would think I was the one stopping my daughter from having a relationship with her mom.
Maybe I even felt a bit guilty about being the one who “won” Gordie over her mother. In most divorces, the mother ends up with the child, not the father. I felt that people would think I had stolen Gordie away and that she would think the same eventually.
I never realized I was putting so much pressure on her to ignore her feelings of dissatisfaction. It never even crossed my mind.
“I’m sorry, Gordie,” I say, my eyes turning red. I pull her in for a hug. “Daddy’s so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Gordie pats my back. “Did I make you sad, Daddy?”
“No, you were honest, and that made me very happy. From now on, whenever you have angry or sad feelings, I want you to tell me. Daddy will listen, and he won’t get angry, okay?” I hold out a pinkie to her. “Promise.”
She links our pinkies together. “Promise.”
I give her a big kiss on the cheek. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” She smiles. “And I like Delia a lot.”
“Me too.” It feels good to admit it out loud.
And it’s about time I let Cordelia know that my daughter and I have been waiting for a “special friend” like her.