Behind us, a truck’s engine roars, drawing awareness from all of us waiting on the curb. However, my eyes quickly revert to the other little girl. Clad fully in Aspenridge College attire, complete with a backward hat on her petite head hiding her messy dirty blonde hair, she hops off the bench. Planting her feet, her legs wide, she crosses her arms over her chest with a huff.
“You’re late, Keeley. Again.” Her small squeaky voice doesn’t quite match the shade she’s trying to throw at the adult picking her up.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
The gravelly voice turns my head. I come face-to-face with a man about my age, give or take a year, with the sharpest blue eyes. A faded scar slices the right eyebrow almost in half. Days’ old scruff covers his rounded chin and cheeks. He flashes a smile at the girl and even though it’s not directed at me in the slightest, I swear my ovaries weep.
He turns that same wicked smile to the preschool teacher.
“Ms. Hannah, I’m sorry I’m late. Feel free to charge me for your wasted time out here with Lennon.”
Hannah’s cheeks tinge pink. I feel ya, girl.
“Not a bother. She’s never a problem.”
At the teacher’s comment, the man’s eyebrows rise in challenge. I know nothing of this spitfire, but based solely on her attitude and how she carries herself, no way she’s completely innocent.
“Did you at least get to the store and get more yogurt?”
My focus is back on the little girl.
Lennon. Unique name.
She’s petite for her age, standing a few inches shorter than Aubrey. I suppose she could be in a younger class. I shouldn’t assume she’s the same age as Aubrey because she’s out here with her.
“Yeah, no. Sorry, Squirt. Guess a trip to the grocery store is in our future.”
Lennon rolls her eyes. I have to stifle my laughter. How so much sass can live in one tiny human is mind-boggling.
Bean, don’t get any ideas, I think as my girl observes the interaction. While she’s not a perfect angel all the time, she mostly keeps her attitude in check and is sweet, caring, and a loving five-year-old. And at the moment, my best friend.
“I had to go yesterday with Momma. Now today with you. Who will it be tomorrow?”
He kneels in front of her. “Would it help if I told you I got ice time for tonight?”
In a flash, her attitude disappears, replaced with an elated expression. Just as quickly, she mirrors his image, one eyebrow in the air. “Just for me?”
“Only you.”
“At Nordic?”
“Even better.” He pauses, heightening her anticipation. I can’t help but be invested in finding out what his answer is. Even though I don’t have a clue what they are going on about in the slightest. “At Aspenridge.”
At the mention of the college, she leaps into the air, throwing herself against his chest. With little effort, he catches her. She loops her arms around his neck and exclaims, “That’s the most ’mazing thing ever.”
“I thought you might like it. Even if we have to go grocery shopping before we get there, right?”
Her hands cup his cheeks. “Can we get marshmallows? You ate all of them last week and didn’t replace them.”
This kid is a riot. I’m so entranced in their conversation, I almost miss Aubrey patting my leg. I peer down at her. The face I’ve loved since the minute they put her on my chest looks up expectantly at me. “Mommy, what are smarshmellows?”
“Only the best thing ever.” The guy’s voice pulls my attention away from my daughter to him yet again. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a shit-eating grin on his kissable lips.
Down girl. Don’t even think about it. Don’t even think about him.
Lennon wrinkles her nose, the confusion evident on her adorable features. Addressing my daughter, she wonders, “You’ve never had marshmallows?” Aubrey shakes her head. Lennon regards the man. “Keeley, we need an extra bag for Aubrey. Think that’s doable?”
This time I can’t help the chuckle emitting from deep within me. What preschooler talks like this? Certainly not mine.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Does she always speak like that?”
He trains his gaze my way, piercing me with a stare. But not in a bad way. And his eyes don’t even ogle me. Which is probably for the best.
“Unfortunately. She’s definitely wise beyond her five years.” He engages in a stare-down with the little girl. With the two of them so close together, I notice the resemblance in the eyes, nose, and cheeks. It’s cute they have such a sibling bond. “Can we grab a bag of marshmallows for you? Lennon’s treat. It’s her turn to buy.”
Lennon’s little eyes roll again. “Don’t be ‘diculous. I gotta save my money for new skates. I told you last week.” She puts a lot of emphasis on the word told, drawing it out beyond the one-syllable word it is.
“Guess they’ll be my treat then.” Lennon nods fervently in agreement.
Lost in his cobalt eyes, I suddenly remember my manners, shooting down his idea gently. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that. We can grab them the next time we go to the store.”
“It’s no trouble. Especially since she’s never had them before.”
Polite as ever, Aubrey pipes in, “Thank you. I can’t wait to try them.”
I don’t think she understands what’s involved here. She knows she’ll be getting marshmallows, which she’ll probably hate. The girl’s sweet tooth is nonexistent, the main reason she’s never had them.
The man shifts Lennon to his hip, situating her in such a way only a guy with experience can do. Offering his hand, he declares, “Lennon will bring them into school next week. I’ll make sure they’re in a sealed plastic bag, so they aren’t a temptation to open before she gets home.”
I’m not sure how to react to this man’s kind gesture. Is this a Vermont thing? Should I get used to this weird sort of encounter? The sharing of food with virtual strangers?
“Uh, thank you?” I hate how the phrase comes out as a question, but my confidence has gone missing since I’m still contemplating what’s happening. Besides, the way he studies me, his penetrating gaze is a tad unnerving.
“Sure thing. A friend of Lennon’s is a friend of mine. And everyone should know what marshmallows taste like.” His left eye shoots a wink in my direction. At least he’s not judging me for not serving my kid marshmallows before now. When he looks down at Aubrey, I swear her cheeks flush.
Get in line, girl.
Oh my god. I have to get my mind out of the gutter.
His hand is still outstretched, waiting for me to shake it. “Nice to meet you…” He trails off, his hand still in the air.
“Tate,” I provide, hoping it’s my name he’s waiting on. His genuine grin confirms it.
“I’m Lennon,” the girl states, “and he’s Walsh.”
I frown at her introduction. I could have sworn she called him something else. Twice. How did I get that so wrong?
“Aubrey,” my girl states shyly.
“I know, silly.” Lennon giggles, her comment going over Aubrey’s head. I breathe a silent sigh of relief, wanting to keep her from being made fun of, if even only teasing.
“Well, we should probably be on our way. Gotta make a run to the grocery store before rest time.”
Lennon shakes her head. “No thanks. I not tired.”
“If you want to skate, you know the deal. Rest first, skate later.”
“Aw, man. But Dad.”
I don’t hear the rest of her protest nor what he replies as my ears stick on the “dad”.
He’s her father? Not the older brother? My head spins with this news.
Why I’m so shocked is a mystery. Maybe because I’ve yet to meet a dad as young as him. Or because Aubrey’s “Dad” wanted nothing to do with her before she was even born. None of his family did. Until the accident.
“Are you okay? Did we lose you there for a moment?” Walsh’s apprehensive voice brings me out of my head before my thoughts diverge on a horrible path.
I wave away his concern. “Sorry.” I bite back any beliefs about him being the dad. I’ve been the brunt of too many “you’re a little young to the be the mom” judgments to last a lifetime.
Scanning him over, maybe he’s not as young as I originally thought. There goes my mind making assumptions again. Good thing he’s not in my head. His T-shirt displays the same college name as Lennon. I don’t miss the way the words stretch across his broad chest. Nor the way his biceps pop the sleeves.
“Okay then. Nice to meet you, Tate.” Without waiting for a response, he bends down to my daughter, his daughter still perched to his side. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey. Be sure to let me know how you like the marshmallows, k?”
My daughter nods shyly at him, then moves to cling onto my leg. I’d like to think her reluctance is because she’s shy with new people, especially men, but I’m pretty sure it’s just him. He’s got some kind of trance over her.
“See you next week,” Lennon bids as her father walks away.
I take it as my cue to finally leave the preschool. I don’t see Hannah any longer. Hmm. Wonder when she went inside.
“Come on, Bean. Let’s go home. Mommy’s got some work to finish.” I grab her hand in mine, even though my car is only a few steps away.
As I tighten the buckle of the car seat, she gives me a peculiar look. “Where’s my dad?”
Shit. She hasn’t asked in a few years, but she’s at the age now she understands more, yet I’m still unprepared.
A month ago, I would have had a different answer for her.
But now? How do I explain to the five-year-old she’ll never get to meet her sperm donor because he’s dead?
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