AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Max, are you going to live here now?” Olive asks.
“Um…”
“We have a lot of things to figure out,” Emily says. “Just know, your father and I both want what is best for you. That’s our goal.”
My heart clenches. She called me a father. A smile crosses my lips.
“Okay,” Olive says. She places her pizza slice on her plate. I continue to eat, but I feel eyes on me again. Turning, I see Olive’s blue eyes, the ones she got from me, studying me, like I’m a painting in a museum.
“Olive, it’s not polite to stare.”
“Sorry.” She picks her pizza up again and nibbles. “This is just weird. He came out of nowhere.”
I cough into my hand. “If it makes you feel better, this is weird for me too. In the best way,” I add. After I take a swig of wine, I lean in and say, “Just a little secret. I’ve never had a daughter before so I don’t know exactly how to act.”
“Because you don’t have any other kids.”
“Correct,” I say, sitting up.
Emily holds her wine in front of her chest, staring at me. “You never have any close calls?”
I shake my head. “My friends in college made fun of me for always…looking both ways before I crossed the street.”
Olive ate her pizza without a flinch.
“So, you never…got hit by another car?” Emily asks.
I shake my head. “Just your car.”
“Mom, you hit him with a car?” Olive asks, snapping up.
“Kind of.” Emily’s eyelashes flutter as she takes a sip. Her expression is what I’d imagine if the creepy doll appeared at the end of her bed.
“Mom, can we show Max the wishing well?” Olive asks. “Tomorrow?”
“If he wants to,” Emily says. “You’ll be around tomorrow, Max?”
“Absolutely. Where is this wishing well?”
“Goldheart’s best-kept secret.” Olive turns to her mother. “It’s okay to tell him, right?”
“Right.” Emily’s green eyes arrest me. “Goldheart doesn’t want the tourists to know. It’s this wishing well behind the indie bookstore. It’s a tradition for us to go on our birthdays.”
“You have to see it, Max. You have to.”
“I would love to.” I take a bite of pizza and grin so hard, my cheeks ache.
“Also, we must have a dance party tonight,” Olive insists.
“No,” Emily says with a shake of her head.
“Come on, Mom. Max has to see your sprinkler move.”
* * *
After a vigorous dance party (I did see the sprinkler, and it was glorious), we put Olive to bed. She requested I read to her tonight.
She snuggled into the crook of my arm, and I had to hold back the emotion creeping up my throat as I read. We made it through twenty-three pages before Olive yawned next to me. She leaned into my chest, and I rested my head on top of hers, savoring this moment and loving every second.
