Kill. Me. Now.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time. I miss you.” I cringe. Is it okay to say that? Or am I smothering her? I don’t know anymore.
“I miss you too. I wish you could have come too. You’d love it. Have you been on a roller coaster before? They’re amazing!”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been on a roller coaster. Some people are scared of them.”
“Hunter is. So I ride with Gabe. You have to be forty-eight inches. I’m good. Tall like you, Dad.”
I lean back on the sofa and set my notebooks off to the side as a grin forms along my face. Of course, my daughter loves roller coasters. I love them too and so did Jenna. She’s the product of two very adventurous people. I imagine Jenna giving me an approving nod for letting our little girl spread her wings and soar on a new adventure—even if it’s without me.
“Your mom loved roller coasters too.”
“She did? I knew it. I’ve always known she was awesome.”
“Yeah …” I whisper as her words drive into my heart like a freight train.
“I have to go. We’re going to dinner and then to watch a parade and fireworks. I’m so excited!”
“I’m excited for you. Love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Daddy …
I melt. “Bye.”
After she disconnects, I toss my phone aside, right as Gracelyn arrives home, taking her usual stripping position under the balcony and behind the bushes. A better man would turn a blind eye and let her do her thing in privacy.
I’m a lot of things, but after last night, I’m not sure I’m a better man. Confirming my lack of chivalry, I make my way to the side of the house, finding my best smile for when she glances up after shoving her clothes in the plastic bag.
“Elvis.” I lean against the side of my house, crossing one leg over the other while slipping my hands into the pockets of my shorts—refusing to look like I’m doing anything else but watching her.
She frowns, hugging the plastic bag to her chest. “Pervert.”
“Bird-watching.”
“There are no birds in these bushes.”
“Not yet, but bird-watching involves patience.”
There it is … the grin she doesn’t want to give me. I’ll steal everything I can—grins … kisses.
“Turn around.”
“Why? It’s no different than wearing a bikini. That’s what you said. Right?”
Huffing out a quick breath, she rolls her eyes, almost as expertly as Morgan. She steps out with more confidence than I sense she’s really feeling. Basic white bra and orange boy-short-style underwear the same orange color as her hair. She looks like Halloween a few months early.
“Total perv …” She stomps up the stairs.
“I’m not even sorry.”
When she reaches the top, she pauses. “Here’s your bird.” She flips me the middle finger without looking back.
I laugh as she shuts the door and slings the curtains shut. Retracing my steps, I grab the mail out of the mailbox and take a seat on the porch rocking chair. There are several letters for Morgan from pen pals and a postcard to both of us from Swayze, the nanny I hired shortly after Morgan was born. The only girl, besides Morgan, I’ve kissed since Jenna died. Well … and now Gracelyn is on that short list. My relationship with Swayze was complicated—life-changing.
I’ve always wanted only the very best for her. And as I see her two little girls, both with her blond hair and blue eyes, playing on the beach in Mexico, I’m reminded just how fragile life really is, how some loves never die. It gives me hope that this life of mine has more to give than I probably realize.
Morgan and Nate,
Hope you’re finding magic.
~Swayze, Griff, Eloise, & Harley
Always a simple postcard.
Always with the same four-word greeting. Hope you’re finding magic.
I usually return the sentiment, without words, just a postcard with a picture of Morgan. I think she knows why I have nothing more to say. She knows I lost too much. She knows her happiness is my happiness. Every postcard from her is a reminder that I did the right thing.
I let go.
“My pen pal competition?”
I glance up. Gracelyn in a white sundress with yellow straps and yellow stitching along the bodice brings me out of the past and all that I lost.
“Maybe.” I set the mail on the round table by my chair. “Nice to see you dressed.”
“Said no man ever.” She ascends the steps in her yellow flip-flops.
“How was your Scottish porn last night?”
She smirks. “Jamie never disappoints.”
“Do you think your obsession with this Jamie guy is the real reason for your man ban? Unrealistic expectations.”
She twists her lips to the side and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Obsession is your word, not mine. And my man ban was born of bad luck, not a hot guy in a kilt.”
When she turns around to sit in the other rocker, I wrap my hand around her wrist and pull her to me, justifying it with nothing more than a look. Guiding her onto my lap with her back against my chest, I slide my hands around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.