Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Penelope
I double check that I have everything in my bag.
Sunscreen, snacks, water bottle.
As if the one thing Hazel doesn’t have in her life might’ve slipped in there unnoticed.
“Are you missing something?” Leighton’s voice is easy and nonchalant, pretending I don’t look like a frantic mom searching for her kid’s brown bag lunch before a field trip.
“No. Just checking something.” I stop rummaging because if a father for Hazel has somehow wedged himself inside my tote, he’s not going to pop out saying, “Finally, you found me. I was suffocating between your wallet and dispensable birth control.”
“Thank goodness we have such good weather today.” She sips her coffee, eyes tracking the kids as they run from station to station across the playground. “I remember hating field days when I was younger. I never excelled at any of the events.”
While her gaze bounces between the kids, mine analyzes the parents in attendance. There’s no denying I’m alone on the island of single parenthood at this school.
“Do most kids here have two parents?”
Leighton pauses mid-sip and glances my way.
I might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign that says, Feeling insecure. My daughter comes from a one-parent household.
Her gaze flicks across the field. “I guess so. I never noticed.”
And why would she? She has Hayes—currently running the tug-of-war station as though he popped out of the birth canal with a whistle in his mouth.
Most of the stations are being run by one of the parents, while the second half of the pairing is on the sidelines like Leighton and me.
My dad was supposed to run a station for us, but he’s running late.
“It’s a small school.” Her hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m sure there are other single parents. We’re just not noticing.”
“I’m looking. And I’m coming up empty.”
Leighton’s mouth twists. “Me too. But it’s not a big deal. You do not need a man. You’ve raised Hazel to be an amazing young girl.”
I know I have. But school events have a way of poking at the bruise I pretend doesn’t exist.
It was easier when it was just the two of us in our little routine and world back in Philly.
Now all these flyers come home with big blaring letters that spell out Parents or Guardians.
Parents/Guardians volunteer to read. Parents/Guardians show up for the art exhibit.
Parents/Guardians sign up for fundraisers.
There is only parent, singular, in our household.
And Hazel is old enough now to notice that most kids get to hold a second hand.
Leighton’s voice softens. “Seriously, Penelope. I can see you spiraling.”
“It’s just…” I scan the sidelines, gauging how many adults are close enough to overhear.
When your dad is the Chicago Colts manager and you’re standing next to the starting catcher’s wife, people tend to develop a sudden interest in whatever you’re saying. Thankfully, today most of them are more invested in watching their kids chase bubbles and sack race each other in the grass.
“It’s just… I haven’t dated since Hazel was born.”
Leighton’s brows lift.
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “It’s not like I haven’t… you know. But I never wanted anything serious. I never wanted anything that could take time away from Hazel.”
I’m not lying. I’m just… sanding down the sharp edges.
Because there’s one man I would’ve let inside our two-person bubble had he been ready to be welcomed in.
“Hazel seems to like Decker a lot.” Leighton waggles her eyebrows.
I groan. Of course she says his name.
I’m pretty sure everyone in our little group knows there’s history between us. Unfortunately, they also know I have history with his twin brother—which is a whole other story I’d prefer to leave buried under the same rock I’ve been living under for the last decade.
“Well, that’s never going to happen.”
“Why not? He’s always looking at you.”
I bark a humorless laugh. “He is not. And even if he was, that means nothing. He’s good with Hazel because he’s good with kids. Look how he is with all of yours. He’s just… a good guy.”
Leighton exhales as though she’s trying not to push too hard. Then her expression shifts, attention snagging over my shoulder. A slow smile tugs at her mouth. “It’s as if we manifested him.”
My stomach drops before I even turn my head.