“Daddy! It’s almost seven-thirty and we’re hungry!”
I look down to see Gilly and Meghan running over to us, hand in hand.
“Who’s she?” asks Meghan, looking up at Amanda.
“I’m Gillian Kingston,” says my older daughter, taking charge of the situation and politely offering Amanda her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Kingston.”
“If she’s Miss Kingston,” says Meghan, “then who am I?”
Amanda smiles at my youngest child. “I’m guessing you’re Miss Kingston too.”
“This is Gilly and this is Meg,” I say. “Girls, this is my friend, Miss Amanda.”
Gilly gasps and Meghan places her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Yep. They know exactly who she is.
“I told my dad to wear black pants, not jeans,” Gilly informs Amanda. “I told him to dress to impress.”
“And jeans don’t impress,” adds Meghan, shaking her head.
Amanda looks at me with sparkling eyes, then smiles at my girls. “Can I tell you two a secret?”
My daughters nod like Amanda’s about to give them the key to all knowledge.
“I love a guy in jeans.”
“You love my daddy?” asks Meghan with wide eyes. “Already?”
“Stop being dumb, Meg. They just met,” says Gilly, looking up at me. “It takes, like, a million years to fall in love, right?”
“Um. Not that long, but…” My cheeks flush with heat. “It takes a little while. Sure.”
“Miss Amanda,” says Meghan, “you gotta come and have dinner with us. My Aunt Bonnie makes the best cluck-cluck in the whole world.”
Amanda looks at me. “Cluck-cluck?”
“Fried chicken.”
“Oh! I love fried chicken,” says Amanda, smiling down at Meghan, “but I…I can’t. I have some, um, dinner plans.”
She does not. She’s lying because she doesn’t want to impose; she doesn’t want to break the rules of our sex-only, no-strings-attached agreement. But then again, she fed me lunch today, right? The least I can do is return the favor.
“You’re very welcome,” I say softly, meeting her eyes with mine.
She grins for a second like she’s about to say yes, then shakes her head. “No. You’re meeting family.”
“Come on,” I say, elbowing her gently. “Bonnie, of all people, woul
d love to meet you. And Meg’s right. You have to try her cluck-cluck.”
“It’s realllly good,” says Gilly.
“Well, I’ve never had ‘cluck-cluck’,” says Amanda with a soft giggle. “How can I say no?”
She’s holding the cone of cotton candy by her side, but my daughters still manage to grab her hands and spirit her away toward the bandstand, in search of my sister’s blanket. And as I watch them go—these three beautiful girls, hand in hand—my heart squeezes something fierce.
I want this for them, I think. I want them to have a woman in their lives.