I smile when Rachel yells a “Woohoo!”
“So soccer, huh?” Rick prompts when the server walks away. “Mom didn’t get you in a tutu and tap shoes?”
“Ugh,” Rachel says, sounding very put out for an eight-year-old. “Don’t remind me!”
“Oh come on!” I protest. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was terrible!” Rachel pouts. “I could have died.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You were three.”
“I was traumatized.”
“Well I could send you to therapy or I can give you all my cash to play some video games. What will it be?” I ask her.
“Video games,” she answers, holding out her little hand. “The SeaWolf will heal my soul.”
“Oh it will, will it?”
“Yes.” She nods with all the seriousness in the world.
“Here.” I laugh as I hand her a couple bucks. “That should tide you over until the pizza is done.”
“Thanks, Mama,” she says sweetly before she places a kiss on my cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sunshine girl.”
“She’s something else,” Rick says as he watches her hop away, and I can’t help the pang I feel in my heart for all he’s missed out on.
“She is.”
The waiter drops off our drinks, and we both busy ourselves with unwrapping paper from straws and drinking more soda than is necessary just to avoid heavy conversation topics.
“I think we should buy two houses next to each other,” he says after a moment. Unfortunately, that moment was right after I had taken a big sip of soda, and I choke on it.
“Absolutely not,” I tell him. Even if I could afford a house—which I cannot—watching him date other women would gut me. I’ve been lucky so far, and it’s selfish to say, but with him being out of our lives, I haven’t had to watch him settle down with someone who was not me.
“Why not?” he asks. Oh, God, he’s serious. I was hoping he was kidding.
“Well, for one, I can’t afford a house,” I answer honestly, even though my pride smarts at the spoken truth.
“That’s an easy fix,” he says. “I make plenty of money. I’ll buy both.”
“Not so fast,” I say, holding up a hand to slow this train down before it crashes at heartbreak station. “I can’t let you buy me a house.”
“Sure you can,” he says confidently. “I haven’t paid child support in eight years. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I tell him. “But still, no.”
“Why not?”
I let out a frustrated breath before answering. “Sure, now it seems like a good idea. But what about when you’re dating or when you bring a woman home? And when you settle down and start a family? Rachel won’t understand why she’s not part of that.” I have to look away, because the thought of Rick with his own family is physically painful.
“Are you worried about your feelings or Rachel’s?” he asks quietly, and I hate that he could always read me so well, and apparently, he still can.
“Rachel’s, of course.”
“Of course,” Rick parrots. “How many lovers have you had since me?”
