Chapter 31
thirty-one
LIAM
My life is perfect.
Never, in a million years did I think I’d be able to make that statement, but I’ve never been this happy. I never thought I could be this happy. I’ve become a guy who smiles every day, sometimes randomly. And I don’t even hate it.
The day after Maya’s birthday, I called Quentin to officially turn down the offer. Maya and I discussed it a lot, and it made me realize that New York just isn’t where I want to be. She even suggested the idea of opening up a fine dining restaurant in Vermont, if it’s something I aspire to do. Right now, I don’t need it, but maybe someday.
Right now, I like the diner, I like how healthy my daughter is—officially a full year without any visits to the emergency room—and I like what I’ve built with Maya.
I more than like it, and it’s probably time I tell her that.
But before I can do that, there’s a conversation I’ve been desperately wanting to have.
Maya’s spending the day up in Burlington with Ellie, Belinda’s covering things at the diner, and Poppy has the day off school with no scheduled activities to keep us busy. It’s time.
“Daddy?” Poppy tilts her eyes up at me, kicking her little feet against the sofa. I told her we needed to talk, but now I’m still trying to figure out the right words. “Am I in trouble?”
“No. No, of course not. Come here.” I pull her onto my lap. “I wanted to talk to you about Maya, actually.”
Her eyes start to well. “Is she leaving again?”
“No, angel. She’s not going anywhere. But I wanted to talk to you about her staying here, even after Aunt Ellie is better. Would you like that?”
“Like forever?” She bounces off the couch to stand in front of me, her excitement on display. Forever? That’s a tough word to say to a kid, especially mine.
“Poppy,” I say, taking her hands and trying to stifle some of her crazed energy. “I really like Maya. And I want to ask her to live with us, to be my…” Girlfriend sounds ridiculous in my head, but I’m not sure what word I’m even looking for.
“Your princess?” Poppy suggests.
Fuck it, she’s not wrong. “Exactly,” I say. “But before I ask her, I want to make sure it’s okay with you.” At this she starts jumping up and down muttering a jumble of words like “sleepovers” and “glitter.”
“Poppy, stop. Listen to me for a sec. I know you’re excited about Maya being here, but if she decides she wants to live with us, she’ll still leave sometimes when she has to travel for her job. And you can’t make her feel guilty every time she has to go. You know she comes back now, right?”
“I promise I’ll be good, Daddy. I won’t even cry. Can she please live here? Please, please, pl?—”
“Poppy.” I squeeze her hands again. “I want her here as much as you do. You don’t have to convince me, okay? But I want to make sure you will be okay. Because I can’t guarantee she’ll be here forever. So I need to know, if Maya did leave for good, would you be alright?”
I let out a breath, ashamed of myself for having this conversation. She isn’t old enough to understand this. She doesn’t know the complexities of an adult relationship and why people might break-up or move away. But I’m asking her anyway. Because I can’t take things further with Maya unless I know my daughter will survive any of the potential futures we could have. I need to know she won’t feel abandoned if Maya decides to move to a random city I’ve never heard of one day and leave us behind.
Even if it kills me, I need my daughter to be okay, no matter what.
“Would you leave too?” Poppy asks, her voice smaller than usual.
“What? No, of course not. You and me are forever, angel. Nothing and no one will ever change that.” I scoop up her little body and pull her in for a hug. “No matter what Maya might do, you and I will always be together. So, what do you think? Should we take the leap? Ask her to be part of our family?”
She pulls back from me enough that I can see her big, innocent eyes. “Can I be the one to ask it?”
We spend the rest of the day preparing a special meal for Maya. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because Poppy is equally of the mind that we can keep her here with the right food.
“I really think you should make noodle rice, Daddy. It’s her favorite.”
“It’s your favorite.”
“But—”
“How about I promise to make it next week, okay? Do you want to come help me stir the pate à choux?”
“Yes, chef!”
I push the step stool in front of the stove and hand her a wooden spoon. “As fast as you can, remember?”
She vigorously stirs the mixture, just like I taught her. We’re making churros for dessert tonight. I’ve only made them once or twice before but I know Maya loves them as they were a staple from the few years she spent as a child in Brazil. I also know that my churros might be mediocre, but I can make a chocolate dipping sauce that she’ll be craving for days.
If anyone thinks I’m above using food as bribery, they’re very wrong.
“Okay, let me add the eggs. Then you can help me pipe.” I steal the spoon from Poppy and finish off the pastry, making sure to keep an eye on the bain-marie so my chocolate doesn’t seize up.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling the cassoulet out of the oven when I hear the front door open.
“Princess Maya!” Poppy cheers, as usual. She’s got her serious chef uniform on, puffed white hat and all.
“Something smells amazing,” Maya says, hanging up her coat in the closet. “What is that?”
“We cooked for you,” Poppy answers. “It’s gonna be so good you’re never gonna leave.”
Jesus. I’ll need to teach my daughter subtlety during our next lesson.
Maya looks at me and quirks a brow.
“We wanted to make something special for you. I hope today was better?” I ask. It seems like every visit with Ellie lately has gotten worse.
“A little.” She shrugs, walks over to give me a hug. “Seriously, that smells so good. What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“Evil,” she says with a grin. “Poppy, don’t look. I’m gonna kiss your dad, okay?”
Poppy runs upstairs screaming, begging Penguin to follow like she’s saving her from a monster. But then Maya’s mouth is on mine and I’m suddenly unconcerned about the antics of my daughter.
“That was a nice greeting,” I say when she pulls away.
“You taste like cinnamon.” She leans in to kiss me again but just licks my lower lip. “Yum.”
“I might have taste-tested dessert earlier.”
“Is dinner ready?” she asks. “I’m starving.” But from the twinkle in her eye, I’m not sure if she’s talking about food. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Her stomach rumbles moments later.
“Yes, it is,” I say. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll go wrangle the wild animal.”
We’ve almost made it through dinner when Poppy goes rogue.