“Okay. I’ll order pizza. Do you know if she likes it?”
“Everyone likes pizza.”
“Right.” Trying not to be too obvious, I fish for more information. “Any dessert?”
“I want cheesecake. Oh, and Pippa loves tiramisu. She ordered it a couple times.”
“I’m on it.”
Bingo. The least I can do for Pippa is make sure I order her favorite dessert. The urge to find out everything there is to know about her hits me hard. I thought the outing yesterday would be enough to satisfy my curiosity, but far from it. The more she spoke, the more I wanted to know. Most of all, I wanted to erase that sadness in her eyes when she spoke of her ex. It’s incomprehensible to me how that moron could spend years with her and not love her. I’d worship her. Hell, I’m worshiping her already, and she isn’t even mine. This is the first time in years that I don’t feel the need to keep a woman at arms’ length. On the contrary, I can’t seem to get enough of her. I’m walking a dangerous line—we both are. We also can’t seem to help ourselves.
Julie crawls under the bed, emerging with a neon pink sock after a few seconds. She pushes her hair out of her face, frowning. Then she dives under the bed again. Leaning against the doorframe, I ask, “Honey, why’s all your stuff under the bed?”
No answer.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nail polish,” her muffled voice comes out. “I promised Pippa….” The rest of the sentence fades, and I leave her to finish her search.
***
At three o’clock, the doorbell rings. Opening the front door, my jaw nearly drops. What in God’s name is the woman wearing? That thing looks large enough for five Pippas. She barely steps in when Julie storms down the hallway, holding a small bottle of nail polish in front of her like it’s a diamond.
“I found it,” Julie announces.
“Awesome.” Pippa gives her a genuine smile. “I’ll do your nails if you do mine.”
“Deal.”
Opening her purse, Pippa takes out a foil with what appear to be tiny stickers on it, and my daughter sighs. “Oooh, they are nice.”
“Promised you I’d find half-moon nail stickers, didn’t I?”
They talk about the stickers for a few minutes, completely ignoring me. I simply watch them, amazed by the intense excitement on my daughter’s face. I instantly tune out whenever Julie starts talking about this stuff. Pippa listens and shares her opinion. Hell, she even seems to enjoy the conversation.
Finally, Julie heads into the living room, and Pippa turns to me, offering me a shy, “Hello, Eric.”
“Welcome.”
“Where is Ms. Blackwell?”
“She has the day off.”
Even though her dress doesn’t show anything, I know exactly where the curve of her waist meets her breasts, and my eyes linger there. I’ve been paying attention to her more than I like to admit. When I look up again, she draws in a sharp breath.
Then Julie calls her, and they spend the next fifteen minutes doing each other’s nails. Afterward, we settle onto the couch, enjoying the movie and eating pizza. Julie sits between Pippa and me, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. I watch the two of them more than the movie. At some point, Pippa stretches her arm on the backrest of the couch. I mirror her stance and our hands meet in the middle. I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb, and intertwine our fingers. Pippa stares at the TV, but I can see her chest rising up and down with labored breaths. We stay like this for the rest of the movie. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but it feels right. I like having her here, watching her have fun with Julie, as much as I liked spending time with her yesterday. I think I could watch Pippa do nothing at all and still find it fascinating.
After the first movie finishes, Julie leaps off the couch, announcing it’s time for dessert.
“What’s for dessert?” Pippa asks.
“Cheesecake for Dad and me, and tiramisu for you,” Julie answers. “We ordered it especially for you.”
“Thank you.”
“We can bring the dessert,” Julie says, taking Pippa’s hand and directing her to the kitchen.
“All right. I’ll prepare the second movie.”