***
It’s Thursday evening and Hannah’s at my place for dinner. “You okay, sweetheart? You’re very quiet tonight.”
She keeps pushing her pasta around the plate, not eating.
“You’ve been playing with your food for the last half hour. It’s not like you. What’s going on? Anything I can help with?”
I wait, willing her to answer. Pushing Hannah never works; it’s a trait from me.
“Dad.” Her voice wobbles. Tears well instantly. “You’re not coming home, are you? I’m… I’m going to be from a brokenfamily now. That’s what Shelly Winters says. I’m a broken child. Split straight down the middle.”
My jaw drops. Her voice keeps rising.
“Kids like me spend their lives being pulled from one home to another. Then their parents meet other people, and suddenly they are pushed out of the picture. Unwanted.”
Her face crumples. She bursts into tears. I’m out of my seat, her face between my hands in a beat. She’s so small and fragile, so unlike the little firecracker I know.
“You listen to me, Hannah.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but I need her to listen. “You will never be pushed out of my home. Never. You’re the most important person in my world.” I breathe out slowly. “And no, your mother and I won’t be getting back together.” The honesty, though necessary, tastes foul.
She stares up at me, eyes wide, terrified.
“But we both love you. You’re our priority. You always will be. For both of us.”
The tension in her small shoulders eases.
“Finish your dinner,” I say softly. “We’re going for ice cream.”
Arthur’s Ice Cream Parlor has been in Aviemore for fifty years. In my opinion, it’s better than sex. Well, the sex I’ve had anyway. You can get anything. Any flavor. Any topping. Any sauce. Hannah and I come here at least once a week. It’s our thing.
We settle into our usual booth and tuck in. Chocolate sauce already drips down her cheek. I bury a laugh. She’s at an age now where she can take offence to the strangest things. Her favorite phrase is:Are you laughing with me or at me?She’s twelve going on twenty-one.
As she talks, someone at the counter catches my eye. A wild cloud of crazy blonde curls. Katie.
She’s ordering a tub to go, back to me, curves everywhere. My gaze drifts over her body. Far too slowly. Hell, I want that.
My mind betrays me. Again. Her naked beneath me. My hands on her hips, lips on her neck.
What the fuck? I’m eating ice cream with my daughter.
Hannah chatters away; I’m not listening. Luckily, she seems to have recovered from her meltdown. A grunt from me is all she needs to keep talking.
I snap my eyes back to her just as Katie turns. She doesn’t spot me. I watch her saunter out into the street, then vanish.
“Dad,” Hannah shrieks. “Are you listening to me? Can I come to your place this weekend?”
“Huh? Sorry, sweetheart. I was miles away.”
She huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “I said. Can I come to your house this weekend?”
Her eyes turn to slits, daring me to say no.
“Um…” Guilt tightens my chest. “I have plans tomorrow night. But Saturday… sure.”
Her glare says isn’t happy, but she nods.
“Okay, Dad.”
***