Chapter 1 #4
“Oh, she didn’t mean for the whole night,” Kyle told her when he swallowed his mouthful of beer. “She just meant for long enough to get laid.”
“Holy shit. I mean … Holy shit. Wow. Things have really changed in the dating world, apparently.”
Kyle nodded. “You can say that again. So what state of the game are we in?”
“She finished her homework and she’s had her bath. I sent her to read until you got home. I’ll go in and tell her goodnight and goodbye.” Kyle watched as Constance strolled down the hallway and he stepped back to the front door, thumbing through the mail lying there on the little table.
He’d gotten halfway through the pile and was standing there looking at a western wear catalog when Constance pulled the door open, then leaned back to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“I hope you don’t give up.” His only answer was a little shrug.
“They’re not all like that. Keep looking.
You just haven’t found the right one. Gotta kiss a few frogs first.”
“Yeah. Obviously. Thanks for staying with Myla,” he said and gave her a gentle smile.
“You’re a good guy, Kyle—too good to be alone. Love you,” she said as she closed the door.
“Love you too, sis.” He tossed the catalog down on the stack of mail and made his way to his daughter’s room. At least he didn’t have to explain the mess to Myla.
Myla was sitting up in bed when he stepped into her room. “Hi, Daddy. Did you have a good meeting?”
“Eh. It was just a meeting.”
“What was it about?”
Shit. Think, stupid! “Um, just farm stuff.”
“That’s all you think about,” she said, frowning.
“No. I think about you too. Want me to read something to you?”
She grinned and nodded. “You know what I want you to read, don’t you?”
“I do.” He reached over to her nightstand and picked up the well-worn volume. It was actually her second one; the first had disintegrated from use, and he’d had to hunt up a new copy. She’d loved The Princess Who Had To Kiss Too Many Frogs since she was old enough to sit and listen.
It had been Becky’s favorite when she was a child, and when she’d found out she was pregnant, buying that first copy was the first thing she did.
“Look. The author’s last name is ours, so if we have a girl, this is what I want to name her.
” Myla Miller. Kyle had never seen it as a coincidence.
And that first copy, the one that had fallen apart?
He couldn’t bear the thought of throwing it away.
It was in a box in Myla’s closet, something he wanted her to have when she was grown and had kids of her own.
It was something her mother had touched and held, and it was special.
The frog in the book was named Webster, and as Kyle sat down and opened the cover, Myla cuddled her plush frog, the one she’d named after the book’s character. He started the familiar story.
“Once upon a time and long ago, there lived a princess named Celeste. She was a beautiful child, all shiny hair and sparkling eyes. Celeste’s favorite place to play was by the creek near her father’s castle, but her father hated for Celeste to play there.
‘You ruin your dresses, my pretty, and you muddy your shoes. Why do you insist on playing in that nasty creek?’”
“‘Because my friends live there, Father. Buster the squirrel, and Marcus the bunny, and Fleming the raccoon. And a lot of frogs.’”
“‘You should play with real children, my pretty. Not animals. What do you do with them?’ her father asked.”
“Celeste thought for a minute before she answered. ‘We hop together, and we run together. We climb trees too.’”
“‘What do you do with the frogs?’ he asked.”
“‘We hop, and I wade in the water. And when I get ready to leave, I give them all a kiss on the head,’ Celeste said.”
“‘Even the frogs?’ the king asked, his eyes wide.”
“‘Well, most of them. But there are so many that I can’t kiss them all.’ That was true.
But there was something about the frogs that bothered Celeste.
In all the time she’d played with her animal friends, she’d managed to kiss every frog at least a couple of times, except for one.
His name was Webster, and try as she might, she never managed to plant a kiss on his head.
Every time she tried, he hopped away. His other frog friends said he was shy, and that made Celeste sad.
She loved all her animal friends. She wanted Webster to know that she loved him too, but how would she ever, ever be able to show him that if she couldn’t even give his head a kiss? It made Celeste very sad.”
And there it was—that sinking feeling Kyle felt every time he read the book and got to that part.
Becky had told him that when she was little, every time her mother got to that part, she’d started to cry.
Sure, she knew how the book ended. But her heart ached for the little girl who couldn’t tell the frog that she loved him.
He knew exactly how that imaginary little girl would’ve felt.
Because Kyle would’ve given anything to tell Becky he loved her just one more time.