Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
She looks genuinely surprised by this, maybe even disappointed. “Oh. I thought we were playing a game. That’s why I said I was her daughter…”
God, with everything else going on, I didn’t even catch her say that. Now, I feel like I dropped the ball a little.
Harper looks down at her coloring sheet, but she doesn’t pick up her marker.
I bump her shoulder, but she still won’t look at me.
“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Yes…only…” She looks up at me with a worried wince. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Nothing you say can hurt my feelings.” I tap my closed fist against my chest. “I’m impenetrable. Now spill.”
She sighs and shifts to face me, then she just comes out with it. “Sometimes I wish I had a mom.”
Whoa. Okay. Out of left field but not something I haven’t rehearsed an answer to a million times before. I knew this was coming one day.
“You do have a mom, Harper, and she was wonderful. Every good quality you have came straight from her, I swear it.”
She frowns like I don’t quite get it. “No, I know that. She was great, probably—I don’t really remember. But what I’m trying to tell you is that sometimes I think about having a new mom. You don’t think that would make my old mom feel sad, would it?”
My throat tightens, and all I can manage is a shake of my head.
She likes this answer. She was hoping for it. In fact, she leans in with a small smile, not the least bit sad about this macabre subject. Kids, man. Anyone who says they aren’t resilient hasn’t met my seven-year-old.
“So here’s the thing. I was thinking maybe…my new mom could be Chloe.” She holds up her hands to stop me before I can interrupt. “Or if not Chloe, maybe it could be someone like Chloe.”
She sounds so conspiratorial I can’t help but smile.
“Chloe, huh?”
“Yeah, you think she’s pretty, don’t you?”
“Beautiful.”
Harper grins. “Same. And she’s really nice and she makes the house smell so good when she bakes for us.”
“But that’s not how this works. You can’t just pluck a new mom out of a crowd. And besides, Chloe’s not my girlfriend. She’s the chef.”
Harper rolls her eyes. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make sense. You’re my dad and a baseball player. Why can’t Chloe be a chef and your girlfriend? Nana says hearts want what they want.”
“You talked about this with Nana?”
“Yeah. She said I’m supposed to tell you how I’m feeling, said you aren’t able to guess my emotions and boys are really dumb at this sort of thing.”
I can’t help but laugh. Uh, thanks, Mom?
“I talked to her about it too, actually.”
Her face lights up. “Really?”
I nod. “She gave me some good advice.”
She sits up straighter. “Okay. So what are you going to do?”
“For now? Survive this flight.” I lean over to tap the screen in the seat in front of her. “Is your TV still working?”
I talk to Harper more on the drive home, trying to explain that every woman who comes in and out of our lives isn’t necessarily someone who will be there for the long haul. I remind her of brief relationships I’ve had in the past—Fiona, the lawyer, and Erin, the design assistant—but Harper was too young to really remember them, and my mention of the women doesn’t deter her in the least. She has her sights set on Chloe, and I hate the thought that it won’t just be me who winds up heartbroken if this doesn’t work out.
It’s dinner time when we finally pull up to the house in Bridgehampton. The lights are on inside, which is a relief. Chloe and I haven’t talked since that phone call on Wednesday, so while I was pretty sure she’d be here, I wasn’t absolutely certain.
I catch Ned walking through the side yard from the main house. He has a heaping plate full of food balanced on his hand that he apparently couldn’t wait to get started on. Noodles dangle down from his mouth as he throws me a wave then continues on his way back to the guest house.
“Chloe cooked!” Harper unbuckles her seatbelt and throws her door open just as I finish parking. She leaves the bags to me and races up the front porch steps, shouting for Chloe as she tugs the door open.
I feel jealous of my own kid getting to see Chloe first.
I grab our bags and head up to the front door. Just inside the foyer, Chloe’s crouched down, giving Harper a big hug. Her eyes are squeezed closed like she’s relishing the moment, and when she opens them and our gazes meet, a new awareness trickles down my spine, a heavy want that’s getting harder and harder to ignore. It’s there, in her too. Her subtle intake of breath, the slight way her lips part before she gathers herself and gives me a gentle smile.