Chapter 11
eleven
LIAM
We didn’t go trick-or-treating when we lived in the city. I probably told myself Poppy was too young to care about it, or maybe I was too busy working. Hell, do they even do trick-or-treating in New York?
I knew my daughter wasn’t getting the life she deserved, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I never truly considered leaving until her type 1 diagnosis. It still kills me that that was the push I needed, the thing to determine I was being a shit dad.
Sometimes I’m glad for it, in a fucked up way. And then I feel even worse because who the hell is glad to have a sick kid?
But it brought us here. It brought us Theo and Ellie and Ezra. It brought us to this tiny town where kids of all ages are trick-or-treating. Where every parent chaperoning knows me from the diner, asks how we’re doing, and inquires politely about Poppy’s unusual costume. It brought us a community.
These thoughts pummel through me as we go door to door, finally making our way to the middle of town and the big gazebo in the square. Something tickles my left foot and I look down to find Mr. Milkshake slinking around my legs.
Poppy’s right. I could swear there’s a little magic in Sugar Valley. You just have to know where to look.
When we did Halloween last year, Poppy was still trying to understand why she couldn’t binge on candy like all the other kids. It’s tradition in the neighborhood for everyone to meet in the town square where the gazebo sits all lit up in ghost-shaped twinkle lights. Once the kids are done collecting their spoils, they trade and share and eat until most of their lips are stained blue and hands are sticky with melted chocolate.
It was difficult to tell a six year old that she’s different, that she can’t do what’s typical for everyone else. It fucking sucked. But I have dedicated so much of our family time to teaching Poppy about nutrition, finding ways for her to understand what makes her different, why it’s okay, and why she’ll actually be healthier for it.
And to be safe, I made some sugar-free candy to bring along so she never misses out.
My girl might only be seven, but she’s smart. She gets it. This year, she offers her candy proudly to the other kids, making herself the most popular girl in the neighborhood.
“Wait, don’t give away the Whoppers!” Maya pleads, grabbing a packet from Poppy’s hand. “These are my favorite.”
A group of people have started a bonfire across the square and one of Poppy’s school friends drags her away.
Before she’s gone, she yells back, “I’m just gonna have one marshmallow, Dad!”
“Does she always tell you exactly what she eats?” Maya asks. Stevie is now a sleeping pumpkin in her arms and we find a bench to sit on inside the gazebo.
“She does. Helps me prepare for any spikes. And keeps me from panicking, really. She does it to keep me sane.”
“You’ve got a really good girl, there.”
“The best.”
Maya smiles, but she isn’t looking at me. Her gaze falls across the square, taking in all the families, the little kids still trading candy. Then her eyes land on the diner.
“Why Poppy’s ?” she asks, focusing on the lit up sign. “I mean, why not name it ‘Liam’s’ or ‘Harley’s’ diner? Or ‘Gairdín for the common folk’?” She over-dramatizes the last suggestion.
“Because I bought it for her,” I state proudly. “We moved here for her. Didn’t seem right not to name it after Poppy.”
A sliver of moonlight gets caught in Maya’s eyes, illuminating their honey tones. I keep finding myself staring at those freckles, the ones I traced with my fingertip so many times that night we spent together. She’s so beautiful. It’s getting harder and harder to forget what we shared, to stop myself from reaching out and feeling her skin on mine.
“She asked you to move to Sugar Valley?”
I swallow, collect my thoughts. Because now I’m thinking about Maya’s dad, everything she told me about his absence from her childhood, all the ways that conversation affected my choice in moving. But I can’t tell her that, not if she doesn’t even remember meeting me.
“She got sick,” I say plainly. “I couldn’t put the nanny in charge of that. I knew I needed to step up and be the dad she deserved, and there was no way in hell I could do it in New York. Not working until midnight six days a week. I had to make a change.”
“That makes sense. Any regrets?” she asks. And I love that there is zero judgment coming from her. I know that I could answer either way and somehow, she’d get it.
“Not a single one.”
“Good. Sugar Valley looks good on you.” She bumps my knee with her own. Bites her lip. Is she flirting with me? “The red hair really suits the mountain man vibe.”
“You like the way I look, Bloom?”
To my surprise, she doesn’t shy away. Something about her is more confident than the first time we met.
“Can’t I just butter you up in hopes of more corn cakes?”
A laugh pours out of me as she bats her long eyelashes.
“Oh, you want another cooking lesson, huh?”
“Another?”
Before I can respond, Stevie wakes up and starts to cry, alerting us it’s time to go.
I leave them to go get Poppy, feeling a little guilty she can’t stay longer with her friends. Most of them live within walking distance of the town square, while we’re fifteen minutes away at the village.
But Poppy doesn’t mind. She’s just as happy spending the rest of her night with us. Maya was right. I have the best girl.
“Daddy, can I have a girls’ night?” Poppy asks as soon as we get home.
“What does that mean, angel?”
“Maya, can you tell him? I need to dance it out.”
What in the world?
“Do you have big feelings, sweetie?” Maya kneels down to look at Poppy, a sleeping Stevie back in her arms. It was surprising to learn that Maya’s never spent time around kids. She’s such a natural. Especially compared to me.
“Really big,” Poppy says through a yawn.
“But are they good feelings?”
“I think so. But I don’t want you to go.”
Fuck. I’ve never had to worry about Poppy getting attached to a woman. I’ve barely dated since her mom left us. Ellie’s been the only constant and she is constant, so it was never an issue. But I have no idea how long Maya plans to stick around here.
“Well, I have to go back to Ellie’s and put Stevie to bed.” Poppy pouts at this and tilts her head to the ground, my little master manipulator. Maya and I look at each other, share a grin because we know how persuasive my girl can be. “But,” Maya continues, still looking at me. “If your dad is okay with it, you can come have a sleepover with us. If you don’t mind sharing a room with this little pumpkin.”
“Daddy, please?”
“One day I’m gonna learn how to say no to you.”
“But not today?”
“Not today.”
Poppy cheers and follows my request to change into her pajamas. Then we all walk next door to put the girls to bed.
It works out well that there’s an extra bed in Stevie’s room. Theo said he wanted to be prepared as soon as she’s too old for the crib.
I pretend not to listen to the conversation between Maya and Poppy, something about dancing it out again. Maya assures her they’ll do it another day when they aren’t so sleepy.
“Want some tea?” Maya asks, after we leave the girls. “I was gonna make a pot of peppermint.”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” For some reason, I feel wired right now, like sleep is still days away. Maybe the tea will help.
She fills up the kettle and turns on the heat, leans against the counter to look at me.
“I’ve been addicted to this tea since I got here. Ellie has a ton of fresh mint, and it’s so much better than the dried kind from the store.”
“It’s from my garden,” I state simply.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I grow all kinds of fresh herbs to cook with. Mint is tough though. It grows like a weed, takes over everything else. So I always have an abundance. Glad to know you like it.”
Once the water boils, she steeps the leaves for a few minutes before pouring us each a cup. She sighs after the first sip. I want to make her make that sound. I want to hear it right in my ear.
She sips again, oblivious to where my head’s at and starts swiping on her phone.
“Oh my gosh, I got the cutest pictures. I hope Ellie’s still up so she can see them. Want me to send them to you too? Poppy looks adorable.”
“Sure.” I list off my phone number and watch her type it in.
A few seconds later, I hear the ping. And when I open up the new message, I freeze. Not because of the stack of images, but what comes before it.
Me:
Hey it’s Liam. I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner. There was an emergency with Popp and I’ve actually been at the hospital since I left your place. I’ll explain everything, just call me back when you can
Maya:
Sorry you have the wrong number. Good luck though! I hope your Pop’s okay
What the fuck? At the time, I thought she gave me a fake number, or maybe wrote it down wrong, or even that she had somehow gotten a new one in the time it took for me to call her. But never, ever did I think she would pretend to…to what? I can’t even understand this. Who would do something like this? What kind of twisted game is she playing with me?
I can’t believe I was starting to think she really didn’t remember me. That she was too sweet to be a liar. That she could be suffering from memory loss or have some rare condition she doesn’t even know about.
I can’t believe I was starting to fall for her again, to think we still have some special connection. I thought Maya was magic, but now she seems more like the devil.
I am an absolute fucking fool .