Day 9
Discuss your favorite past date, and how you’d modify it (if at all).
Ithought dinnertime would be easier as Violet got older but until she learns to keep a spoon upright while bringing it to her mouth, I think I’m out of luck. There’s yogurt on her tray, her shirt, her hair, the floor, the table, and Daniel’s arm which he has resting too close to the line of fire.
“You’re going to smell like sour milk if you’re not careful,” I say. He turns to meet my gaze and his eyes are soft. His chocolate brown irises are more milk than dark in this light. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take to keep this girl happy,” he replies before scooting his chair even closer to her.
I didn’t know what to expect from him when I got pregnant.
I knew he’d be thrilled—he’s talked about being a dad ever since our first date.
But with the demands of his job, and being estranged from his own parents, I worried.
I wondered how he’d manage our relationship and another one (with an exceedingly demanding little being, at that) with everything else on his plate.
I questioned if he’d still feel like mine, or if I’d still feel like his, or if we’d both feel like hers.
It was fair to worry that things would change, because they have.
I feel more like mom than wife most days.
But watching Daniel being Dad? It’s a thrill I don’t know how to put words to.
He is so patient, so engaged. He’s so good with her.
When she was born, a secret paternal light switch flicked on and it often brightens the path for me, as sometimes I think I lack the maternal equivalent.
“It’s good, isn’t it, Lettie?” he says with affection dripping from his tone.
That’s his special nickname for her and I often wonder if it’s what she’ll go by when she’s old enough to choose.
She replies with a squeal of delight that turns Daniel’s light brighter.
“How did we get the best one?” he asks me.
“The best baby?”
“Yep,” he turns back to her, “the very best baby in the entire world right here.”
“Well, when two people love each other very much…” I joke, and he nudges me under the table with his foot.
Tonight feels easy, like we’re living the good old days right now. When I’m eighty-four and Violet is fifty-two, and her baby has a baby, I think I’ll look back and be wistful for this very moment.
“We could’ve made another one if we’d stayed in the car last night,” he volleys back.
“Nope, sorry, against the rules.”
“The card game? Or yours?”
“Both. Shop’s closed for the foreseeable future. Needs maintenance,” I reply with a laugh.
“I can help with that!” he offers.
“Why don’t you get today’s card and we can work on the emotional maintenance first.”
He reaches beyond the baby wipes in the center of the table to pull the card from the deck.
“Alright Molls—what’s your favorite date we’ve been on, and would you change anything about it?”
“Dang, no kissing today? It’s always one step forward, two steps back with these,” I say.
“Should we peek at tomorrow’s?” he asks.
“Absolutely not. The mystery is part of the fun.”
“Fine enough. Favorite date—go.”
My mind whirls with a near decade of memories. Concerts, trips, fancy nights out and cozy nights in. It’s wild how much life we’ve lived together when I scroll through it like this. I land on one particular date, early in our relationship, and it’s so predictable I feel myself cringe.
“It’s that night at the fair, isn’t it?” he asks, and I nod.
“Mine too. I think about it a lot, actually—about what made that night so great. It had everything we loved as kids—fried dough, rides that weren’t quite up to safety standards, fireworks, those lemonade shake-ups—plus the freedom of having adult money and no curfew.
Add the blissful bubble of a new relationship and that night was like dopamine on steroids.
” His face brightens with the memory, his hard-earned smile lines deepening.
“Dopamine on steroids,” I chuckle. “That’s exactly right. It was total sensory overwhelm. The lights, the smells, all the people pressing in, the crackle of the fireworks. Remember we tried to time a kiss to each boom?”
“Of course, because that was my idea. I wanted an excuse to kiss you. By making it a game, I bought myself about thirty kisses.”
“I would’ve kissed you anyway, you dork,” I reply.
“But then we would’ve missed the fun of watching the fireworks and creating our own.”
“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you married me.” He lifts his glass in a faux salute.
Violet coos and Daniel adds, to her directly, “And now we have you, don’t we? Who knows, without the firework game maybe Mommy would’ve been bored of me.”
I roll my eyes but ask, “So would you change anything, looking back?”
“No, I wouldn’t. It was perfect, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You wouldn’t sit out The Gravitron and spare yourself the embarrassment of puking in the trash can after? That was like our fourth date. It was a bit early for that sort of thing.”
“Nope. I’d do it all again exactly as we did it, because it led us right here.”
He looks at me, he looks at Violet, and at my hand on the table before threading his fingers through mine. “Would you change anything?”
How do you compete with such a perfect answer?
“I guess not. Not if it would’ve changed the ending,” I reply.
“We should bring Violet to the fair this summer. She’d like all the lights.” To Violet, he says, “What do you think, Lettie? Want to pet the animals?”
She bangs both fists on the table and it’s as close to a yes as he could ask for.
“Looks like it’s settled,” I say. “Hayes’ family trip to the fair is booked. Maybe we should make it a tradition. We’ll probably want to leave before the fireworks though.”
“As long as I can still kiss you, I’m in.”