Chapter 9 #3
“Jojo in my pottery class, you know the one I told you about earlier? Anyway, she said she can’t wait for her first kiss. She said she knows who it will be with, too.”
I made a mental note never to let MJ go to Jojo’s house. Ever.
Who was this menace?
“Ah, well, a first kiss is something special. Something you’ll never forget, I’m sure,” Vicky whispered.
Her eyes met mine across the table, and something inside me sparked again.
It was a current I couldn’t trace or explain.
As MJ chattered on about a funny story with someone in her class and a frog, my mind had already gone quiet, caught between logic and something far less definable.
Every beat of my heart contradicted the order I lived by.
Whatever this was, it didn’t follow rules, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t look away. Not yet, anyway. What we felt was undeniable but not allowed. Selfishly, I seized this moment, knowing it was all we could ever have.
“Don’t you think so, Daddy?” MJ’s question broke the connection as I swung my head down to look at her.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. Mind wandered off. What was that?”
“Jojo said her mom told her that you gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.” Her face screwed up at the thought as she took her plate to the sink.
“I think you need to stop hanging out with Jojo,” I said firmly. “Vicky, do you want another taco before I pick this all up?”
She cleared her throat and answered, “No, no. I’m all done. Let’s get to work if you’re ready. Or I can just do it. Don’t feel obligated.”
“Are you serious? You come out here to help with this project and expect me to just sit and watch you?”
Open mouth. Insert foot. Again.
She bit her lip, forcing me to look away. “Nope. So, I guess we’re all painting then.”
“Yes,” MJ hissed, thrusting her hand in the air as if she’d just been told she wouldn’t have chores for the rest of the year. She raced to her room, yelling something about changing clothes.
“I really appreciate this. You’ve definitely proven you go above and beyond for your clients,” I said, clearing off the counter.
“My boss has made it clear that I’m at your disposal, so I was happy to help.”
MJ yelled from her room, “Told ya so,” making us both laugh.
“You’ll live to regret that, I’m sure,” I warned. “Okay, give me your keys and I’ll grab the stuff you brought. Make yourself at home.”
Our eyes met briefly again before she stepped into the living room to assess what needed to be done. The fresh air helped as I gave myself a stern talk about not making a fool of myself.
I took that opportunity alone to text Katy again.
Me: Hey, I know I mentioned it, but MJ would love to do a video call soon to talk about her new room.
I gathered all the items and locked her door. When my phone pinged, I juggled the bags to check the incoming text.
Katy: Tell my girl I’ll do that soon. Got a chance to audition in Austin!
Blowing out a heavy breath, I answered.
Me: Good luck, Katy
Mentally pushing my frustration away, I headed back toward the house.
When I got back inside, MJ had already turned on some music, and she and Vicky were bopping their heads to the beat as she opened the cans of paint.
Thirty minutes later, we all received our job assignments.
As MJ's KidzBop playlist provided much-needed energy, we quickly finished the painting job.
Matthew had taped the baseboards and ceiling on the walls that still needed paint, so we decided, for the sake of time, to just paint the walls and leave the trim for them when they returned.
A few times, MJ and Vicky would burst into song whenever something they both loved came on, using their rollers as microphones and dancing around.
I discreetly took a few photos of them to keep as a memento.
Their exaggerated faces, closed eyes, and funny stances while they sang something I think was from Taylor Swift about never getting back together made my battered heart enjoy the moment.
Three hours later, we were cleaning everything up when MJ announced it was s’mores time. We had discovered that Vicky had never had one, so MJ wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
I had to force Vicky outside by the firepit in the backyard and away from trying to push the furniture back into place, promising I could do it the next morning. Once everything was gathered, MJ was giving Vicky a lesson in the proper way to roast a marshmallow.
“Why don’t you just stick it in the fire one time and let it burn then blow it out,” Vicky asked, watching my daughter skewer the sticky orb.
MJ’s mouth opened wide in horror. “Vicky. That’s, ah, you just can’t do that. You have to take your time turning and turning to get it the perfect golden color on all sides.”
I pinched the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. With a marshmallow on her skewer, Vicky obediently placed it over the fire, listening to MJ’s constant instructions.
“Kiddo, let Vicky find what’s the best way to do her own s’mores. Everyone has to experiment til they find what they like most,” I said, tactfully trying to appeal to her scientific mind. She bobbed her head side to side in thought.
“You’re right, Daddy. Vicky, I’ll show you my way, then you do your own hypothesis. How’s that?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll do my best,” she said with a dutiful expression.
Appeased, MJ continued to turn her skewer slowly, just as I had taught her years ago.
I’m a tech nerd and this way was just logical.
When Vicky shivered from a cool breeze, I quickly got up to grab something for her.
When I got back, she and MJ were chatting about a book series MJ had read in school.
Vicky’s eyes flicked up to mine when I approached, holding my hoodie in one hand and wearing a smirk.
Her lips pressed together to hide a smile as she carefully took it from me, nodding in thanks.
MJ was carefully constructing her first s’more after having gotten her marshmallow perfectly roasted, concentrating hard, her conversation abandoned.
“What, no baseball cap?” Vicky teased as I sat across from her, picking up my skewer.
“Got tons of them if you’d like one.” I accidentally bumped her marshmallow in the fire and they stuck together, making her giggle.
“Shoot. Sorry,” I said, pulling mine away and watching the sticky goo pull apart from hers.
“I think mine is perfect now,” Vicky declared. MJ showed her how to slide it off onto the melting chocolate and graham crackers. Her first bite was met with a sound of delight as she declared with a mouthful that it was perfection.
“Great! Now make another one!” MJ said, already getting her next marshmallow ready. I guess I’d passed on my quick eating habits to her.
“No, oh, my. That was plenty for me,” Vicky said, wiping the chocolate from her chin.
“Are you sure? Sheesh, I’ve never seen anyone be able to eat just one,” MJ said. I could see Vicky looking at the setup, her desire to have more evident, her face conflicted.
“Kiddo, if Vicky doesn’t want another one, don’t be pushy. Not all of us are cookie monsters like you,” I teased, hoping it helped ease Vicky’s tension. She nodded her thanks and pulled a pillow from the patio set over her lap.
The three of us talked about MJ’s new school and how much she missed her friends, something she and Vicky shared. I appreciated how Vicky validated MJ’s feelings while still encouraging her about the new adventure they were both on.
An hour later, the sugar rush and unexpected hard work had taken its toll on my sweet daughter, and she fell asleep leaning on me way earlier than usual for a summer evening.
“I should wake her up to take a shower,” I said, watching her chest rise and fall. There were a few specks of the light-gray paint on her cheek that made me smile. She looked like an angel when she slept.
“One night won’t hurt her. Let her do it in the morning,” Vicky pleaded, standing up from her seat and helping me take off MJ’s paint-splattered tennis shoes.
When I lifted her tiny body into my arms, Vicky stopped me, placing her hand on my forearm, then leaning down to kiss her on the forehead with a wide smile. “She smells like a campfire and sugar.”
The moment was so domestic, one I’d dreamed of having with Katy for many years, that it stole my breath away.
Afraid to speak, I nodded and carried her to her room.
Covering her with her favorite purple blanket, I turned on her sound machine to the ocean wave setting, watching her shell nightlight turn on as I turned off her lamp.
Taking a fortifying breath, I stepped back outside.
Having Vicky here again had done weird things to my system.
The fire was dying but still crackled, with pinecones we had added earlier popping in the fading flames.
Vicky smiled as she watched it, her hands disappearing into the arms of my large hoodie.
Her legs were bent back beside her, and at that moment, I wondered why she couldn’t be mine. Mine and MJ’s.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at me as I took my place across from her.
“Hey. Had a good time? I mean, not the manual labor part.”
She laughed loudly, her head thrown back in joy. “Oh shoot, sorry,” she said, covering her mouth as if she’d done something wrong.
My brows bunched up as I watched her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If you’re worried about MJ, she won’t hear us out here.” The fire crackled again, the scene drawing out a thought I shouldn’t have voiced. “I like your laugh.”
Her long eyelashes rose as her eyes met mine, my pulse beginning to race again.
“Usually I’m quiet, but I’ve always felt like my laugh was too loud.”
I grimaced, my anger rising at anyone who’d ever told her such a lie. The soft hum of the music we had turned down hours before played in the background.
“Not sure why you’d think or believe that. It’s a great laugh,” I answered, hoping to encourage her. “I mean, now, if you were a snorter, that’d be a whole ‘nother conversation.”
She burst out laughing again so hard, she snorted, the sound surprising her as much as it did me and soon, we were both laughing in fits like old friends with an inside joke.
“That was the loudest snort I’ve ever heard in my life, woman,” I teased. We were both wiping tears from our eyes, and I marveled at how much fun we had together.
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that,” she said, holding her hands over her cheeks as if they would cover her blush.
“Not possible. That sound was from a world-class snorter. No way you’ve never done that before.”
She threw the cushion she had in her lap at me, then suddenly shifted in her seat, putting her hands in its place. I cataloged the familiar movement and wondered why she did that so often, but, once again, dared not ask.
“You’re the worst.” We were quiet, enjoying the cooling breeze. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Hit me.”
“What exactly do you do?”
Her question made me laugh. I got that a lot and thought for a moment how to explain it.
“My company builds tech that helps people take charge of their health,” I explained.
“The app uses real-time data to track things like sleep, stress, and nutrition, then gives personalized recommendations to help users feel their best. To me that’s the best part of the app, but it was designed to help them make their doctor appointments and have the ability to message them as well. ”
“Wow, that’s amazing. I’d love something like that for my mother and her friends.”
“Maybe I’ll branch out to Italy next,” I teased.
She was smiling, but something had gotten her attention. As I followed her gaze, I saw a few fireflies hovering over some fragrant flowering bushes nearby.
“Wow. I don’t see those very often where I live near the city. Aren’t they magical?” Her question was filled with childlike awe.
“They are. MJ would go bonkers if she were awake. I’ve never seen them out here before.”
“Then it was a God’s gift just for me,” she answered wistfully, and I believed her words.
We both watched them flit around as if in a dance for what seemed like hours, our attention stolen from the glow of the last embers of the fire.
“You should capture one and bring it to your apartment for tonight, then let it go.”
She shook her head and said, “No, I’d rather watch them here in their natural habitat. Then it’s more like a gift, don’t you think?”
Once again, her words and her reaction to the world around her astounded me. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some things in our lives are just that. A gift.”
Suddenly straightening in her seat, she arched her back and stretched. “I’d better head back. Getting late.”
“I really hate that I can’t drive you back home. You keep ending up over here late and having to make that long drive,” I said tensely.
“Hey, the traffic’s all gone now. Easy drive and I need the practice,” she said with a wave. “Uh, I’ll use your bathroom real quick first and get you the hoodie back.”
Holding up my hand, I said, “No, keep it. You know we Cali boys have tons of them.”
She hesitated but didn’t give it back, making her way inside the house. Once again, watching her drive away a few minutes later, I couldn’t shake the caveman feeling blooming inside my chest as I watched her leave wearing my clothes.