Fourteen
Ethan
“Dad?”
I glance over my shoulder, my coffee mug halfway to my lips, to see Maddy emerge from her bedroom. She’s rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. She shuffles toward me at the kitchen island. I smile at the sight of her in her Hello Kitty pajamas.
“Morning, sweet pea.” I set my cup down.
“Morning.” A sleepy yawn stretches her mouth wide. She pulls up the stool beside mine, bumping my knee slightly.
“What can I make you?” I ask, reaching out to push a stray, matted lock of hair off her forehead so I can properly see her face.
She leans into my touch for a second before looking up at me, her eyes clearing. “Dad, can I ask you something?” she asks, her voice a little softer than usual.
“You know you can ask me anything, kiddo.”
She takes a shallow breath, then blurts out, “Do you still love Mom?”
I feel a familiar tightening in my chest, a quick, sharp pang. I take a slow, deep breath, letting it out even slower. “I will always love your mother, Maddy. Nothing will ever change that.”
She studies my face, her brow furrowed. “Then why did you leave her?” she asks.
I sigh. “It’s complicated, sweet pea.”
She rolls her eyes, a classic teenage move. “Oh, come on, Dad. I may be fourteen, but I’m not dumb.”
“Never said you were,” I retort.
Her gaze bounces between my eyes, searching, before she lets out a frustrated huff. “Fine,” she mutters, laying her head down on her arm on the cool countertop. “Can you at least tell me the story of how you knew she was the one?”
A smile spreads across my face. “You already know that story,” I say.
“I know,” she whispers, lifting her head slightly to look at me again. “But the story always came from Mom. I want to hear your version.”
Before I can consider her request, Jake walks out of his bedroom, still in a T-shirt and sleeping shorts.
“Morning,” he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep, and gently tugs Maddy’s hair.
She swats at him but misses as he casts a cocky grin over his shoulder. He opens the fridge and pulls out a gallon of milk.
“Morning, son,” I say, standing up. I grab the last few dirty plates from the counter and start loading them into the dishwasher.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Jake asks, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and pouring in cereal.
I shut the dishwasher and straighten. “I thought we could—”
“Plan Mom’s birthday!” Maddy blurts out.
I lean against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “Say what now?” I ask.
Maddy looks at me with an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you forgot it’s Mom’s big 4-0, Dad!”
“I didn’t forget, Maddy. I just didn’t—”
“Think enough about her that it wouldn’t have crossed your mind,” Jake finishes while shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“Jake,” Maddy admonishes.
I give him a disproving look. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
He shrugs, clearly not buying it.
I sigh and turn to Maddy. “What about your mom’s birthday?” I ask.
“I was hoping to give her a birthday she will never forget. Like she always did for us.”
Lily always outdid herself when it came to birthday celebrations, including mine, and it’s hard to forget how much thought and effort she put into making each one special.
I can’t recall the last time I was part of planning a birthday celebration she deserves.
No, that’s a lie. One night comes to mind.
It was the night I planned a special dinner, only to ruin it by not showing up.
How could I have done that to her? But my daughter has given me an opportunity to make it up to Lily.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask Maddy.
“I was talking to Auntie Sam, and she suggested getting concert tickets to Bryan Adams.” She glances between Jake and me. “He’s Mom’s—”
“Favorite artist,” I finish. “I know.”
That’s all she would play whenever we drove somewhere or wherever there was a jukebox.
“So, can we?” she presses.
“Okay, that’s the gift, but what about a party?” Jake asks.
“We can make cupcakes. She loves cupcakes,” Maddi says, beaming.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I tell her. “We can decorate the backyard with white Christmas lights and set up karaoke.”
Before Maddy or Jake can respond, a door down the hall creaks open, and the faint patter of little feet echoes. We all turn to see Ollie standing in the doorway, a rumpled, sleepy mess. His wide eyes, still adjusting to the light, bounce between us all until they finally land on mine.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Maddy says softly, rising from her seat and walking over to him. “How did you sleep?” She scoops him up, and he rests his face on her shoulder.
“I’m hungry,” he mumbles instead of answering.
“Morning, little man,” I say, a smile spreading across my face.
He lifts his head just enough to peek at me. “Hi, Ethan.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the island, and ask, “How about some pancakes, Ollie?”
His head pops up, suddenly wide awake. “Chocolate chip?”
I laugh. “Of course! Only the best.”
I’m not his father. I know this. And yet, when he looks at me like that, he feels like my son.