5
RIVER WINFREY
It’s hospital discharge day. I’m thankful Leighton was there so that I wasn’t the one to receive all of Scarlett’s discharge instructions. I wouldn’t have a clue as to what to do for her once we’re home.
She has some lingering medical issues, but I can’t believe how far Scarlett has come from being that tiny little two-pound newborn. Lung complications, sleep apnea, digestion problems. The list would be a long one if I named all of her complications, but she managed to pull through, and now she’s a little tigress ready to take on the world.
I’m driving Leighton’s new Audi SUV while she sits in the backseat with Scarlett. I can’t resist stealing glances at them in the rearview mirror when Leighton isn’t looking… which is basically the whole drive home. All of her attention is on my daughter.
It feels peculiar sometimes… Leighton’s obvious lack of interest in me or my money or my success. I’m accustomed to women throwing themselves at me and trying to use me for anything they can get. But that’s not who Leighton is… and thank God for that.
She isn’t the kind of woman who frequents dark, smoky honky-tonks or tosses back whiskey like it’s water or has one-night stands with a man she’ll never see again. She’s nurturing, wholesome, and respectable. I know a quality woman when I see one, and there’s no mistaking this one. Leighton Mitchell is the kind of woman you marry and hold so tightly that no other man can ever take her from you.
She giggles, and I look at the rearview mirror to steal another glance at her. She’s looking at Scarlett and smiling. “What is it?”
“She just blossomed and then smiled.”
“Blossomed?”
“Little ladies don’t…fart. They blossom. And they also don’t sweat. They glisten. You should know these things; you have a sister.”
Leighton didn’t know Sally Kate when she was a kid. “My sister was a tomboy. She farted like a man, just like my friends and our cousins and me. Probably even louder.”
Leighton giggles. “Your sister doesn’t strike me as a tomboy… who would fart like a man.”
“She changed when she met her husband, Brandon. Decided she wanted to look and act like a girl since that’s what he liked.” Women should never change to become what a man wants. But it happens every day.
“Your sister is so pretty and feminine. I can’t imagine her ever being a tomboy.”
“Imagine a female version of me with long hair, except with green eyes instead of brown, and you’ll have a relatively good idea of what she used to look like.”
Those were the good ole days when I didn’t have to worry about little fuckers trying to mess around with her. And I’m going to be back in the same boat when Scarlett gets older. Always worried about some little shit trying to get into her pants.
“I can picture that. You and your sister favor a lot.” Leighton looks up at me in the mirror. “I don’t know what Scarlett’s mother looked like, but I think she resembles you a lot.”
“My mama thinks so too, but I don’t see it.”
“Her eyes and lips are shaped like yours. Her nose is different, but sometimes I see something in her profile that reminds me of you.”
I’m surprised to hear that Leighton has noticed my facial features enough to have an opinion about the characteristics that Scarlett and I share. I thought she had little to no interest in me based on our interactions. Is it possible that her indifference toward me is some kind of pretense?
We luck out, and Scarlett sleeps during the whole drive home. Maybe another thing she gets from me. I basically drift into a coma every time we travel from one city to the next. Something about riding soothes me into a deep sleep.
“We’re home, Miss prissy pants.” Leighton leans over to release Scarlett’s car seat from its base. “Make that Missstinkypants.”
“The princess did more than a blossom?”
“Definitely more than a blossom going on down there.”
Scarlett wakes during the shuffle from the car to the house, and it triggers the onset of a huge shit fit.
I place her car seat on the kitchen counter, and Leighton goes to work on unfastening the buckles. “Whoa, little lady. Calm yourself. I’m getting you out of there as fast as I can.”
Scarlett screams and turns blood red and all I can think about is how glad I am that Leighton is here. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with my own daughter. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She always has a come-apart when she’s dirty.”
I’m her father, but I know so little about Scarlett. Leighton is the one who knows my daughter. Her behaviors. Her habits. What she wants. What she needs.