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“We’re cheesy motherfuckers,” Emily says.
“We bring the gouda, cheddar, and Swiss,” I say. “Man, I’m already making dad jokes.”
Emily snort-laughs, dropping her head onto my shoulder. Without thinking, I take her under my arm. “I happen to love dad jokes.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been waiting my whole life to make them.”
I wish I could say the moment floated away from us and we were just two people, figuring out to co-parent. However, in that instant, it didn’t matter what happened or who didn’t reach out to whom.
All the feelings were rushing back faster than I knew how to process them.
23
Emily
I’m having too much fun.
Max is too handsome.
I’m too in my own head.
Back when I met Max, I was nineteen and stupid. I thought everything would work out perfectly and I had the found the person I would spend the rest of my life with, just for him to disappear with a few words from his stepdad and a check.
Now, he’s back, I’m in his arms dancing to a song I’ve listened to with bittersweet memories, and it’s not just okay.
It’s euphoric.
It’s more than my feelings I have to keep in check. It’s also my daughter’s. Her long-lost father is back with the best of intentions, and while I know his stepdad set him up, ninety-nine percent sure of it, there’s still a small part of me that’s jaded and devastated from being abandoned ten years ago.
“Just breathe,” I whisper under my breath, and Max hears.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I cross my arms so I’m not tempted to reach for his hand. We’re standing in front of the beach house his family rented, the place I lost my virginity, where we made Olive. Typically when I come to the lake with her, I avoid this place.
Max smiles like he does when he talks about Costa Rica. “The house looks a little rough, but mostly still the same.”
“Yeah, the new owners haven’t kept it up as much. It’s a shame.”
“Things change with time, I guess.” When I turn my head, I see him looking at me, his eyelids heavy, his mouth relaxed. I walk past him. He cannot kiss me, not here.
We continue walking again. Max gazes over the lake, the water dotted with boats and the jet skis getting one last run in before the sun sets. It’s golden hour, my favorite time at Tin Lake. It’s when the lake looks like it’s wrapped in glitter and gold.
“This is so pretty. Almost beats being a city girl, with martinis and a nice apartment overlooking a park amongst skyscrapers.”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s absolutely fine. You want to hear a secret?”
Max leans in and it feels like flirting. “What?”
“I don’t like martinis.”
“Shut up.” Max laughs behind his fingers, and I have to look away because he looks too good and the area between my thighs aches.
“Yep. I tried one on my twenty-second birthday, and they’re just…so gross.”
“Vermouth is a love-it-or-leave-it type of thing.”
“Seriously.” We walk a few more steps before I continue my confession. “You know, I actually went to Chicago with a friend when Olive was six. I fell in love with this Airbnb online because it looked exactly like what I imagined in my fantasies when I was a kid. We got there, and it was…fine. Don’t get me wrong, it was cool, but the buildings were too tall, too claustrophobic. Everyone was in a hurry, and I was just this small-town girl, in everyone’s way. After that trip, I came home, snuggled with Olive on my porch where I could see my land and the whole sky, and I just knew my life went exactly the way it was supposed to.”
