Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Still, I could sense Ava’s hesitation and anxiety over even bringing this up to her father. I decided to tread carefully.
“Alright,” I said. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Your daddy loves donuts, doesn’t he?”
She nodded, but her eyes were still on her little feet.
“How can I help?”
Ava shrugged.
“Do you need me to help you figure out what to say?”
“No,” she said after a moment.
“Okay. Do you need help remembering what day it is, and what time?”
She shook her head.
For a moment, I waited to see if she’d fill in the gaps. When she didn’t, I asked her if I could hold her hand, and when she said yes, I pulled that little hand into mine and squeezed it, waiting for her to look up at me.
“You seem a little nervous about asking,” I said. “Is that fair to say?”
We’d talked a lot about what the feeling nervous was in the first semester of school — mostly because that was a big emotion for half the class.
Ava nodded.
“That’s okay,” I assured her. “Feeling nervous is totally normal. Do you know why you feel that way about asking your dad to come to school?”
Ava kicked her feet. “I’m afraid he’ll think it’s stupid.”
My heart swelled in my chest. As much as I hated to hear she felt that way, I was so proud of her for being able to articulate it. It made me feel like I’d done something good because she was learning how to communicate.
“Well, that’s a perfectly natural thought, isn’t it? Your dad thinks a lot of things are stupid, huh?”
Ava almost smiled at that. I saw how her cheeks pinched as she fought it back. She nodded.
“I bet he’d say my pajamas are stupid,” I said, gesturing to the light blue fleece covering me from head to toe. It was a whale and penguin print. “And we know he thinks the referees at every hockey game are stupid.”
Ava didn’t fight her smile that time, and a sort of giggle gurgled out of her.
“But you know what?” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll think this is stupid at all. Wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because out of all the things in this world that he loves — hockey, food, quiet time — he loves you the most.”
I tapped her nose with the you, and her little cheeks turned pink.
“I think,” I continued. “He will be over the moon when you ask him. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I happen to know that your dad is off work that day.”
“Because of the bye week,” Ava finished for me.
“Exactly. And just think of how lost your dad is without hockey! I bet it’ll make his day to get invited to spend a morning with you — his favorite girl. He might even smile.”
Ava gave me a look. “Daddy doesn’t smile.”
“Well, maybe you can change that,” I said, patting her leg. “Now, I’ll ask again. How can I help?”
“I think I just don’t want to do it alone.”
“Doing stuff alone can be kind of scary, huh?” I asked. And then I slid off the bed and helped her down, too. “I would be happy to go with you. We’re in this together. And if you need me to talk, you just give me the look, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and I could see her shoulders relax, could see how relieved she felt already. “Now?”
“If you want,” I said. “It’s completely up to you.”
Determination slid over her face, and she nodded. “Let’s do it.”
And this time, it was she who grabbed my hand.
I tried not to melt at the gesture, but failed miserably, and decided it was fine to let myself be giddy at that little breakthrough as Ava tugged me though the pool house.
But when we made our way toward the large sliding glass door, I stopped dead in my tracks, panic slicing through my chest.
“Ava,” I said, careful to choose my words. “It looks like the door wasn’t shut behind you.”
“Oops,” she said. “I forgot.”
Then, she looked up at me with eyes wide as sand dollars.
Realization hit us hard.
“The cats!”
And we both took off in a sprint.
• • •
Will
“Go ahead. Keep laughing,” I said to Chef Patel. “Remember who signs your paycheck.”
That made her snort before another fit of laughter, and she hung one hand on her hip, snapping a pair of tongs at me. “Your accountant signs my check, and I bet you wouldn’t even know how to fire me if you wanted to. I’d probably get checks in perpetuity.”
I grumbled in lieu of answering, not wanting to confirm that she was right.
“Besides, this is the best thing I’ve seen since you refused to shave your mustache during the playoffs four years ago.” She shivered with a bit of a grimace, like the memory brought her both amusement and disgust. “And this sight is far more cute.”