Page 31 of Silver Player

“You’re right. She isn’t some girl. She’s my daughter.” The words taste foreign in my mouth, but I’ll need to get used to them. “And I’m not saying she’s a burden. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be right to let you shoulder all the money stuff. I’m here to do the right thing.”

“Do the right thing?” she mumbles, as if she isn’t clear what those words mean. More silence ensues, and I’m ready to end this call. I don’t want to hurt Roxanne, but I need to do what’s best for Sadie, and Jordan assures me, as her biological parent, I’m the best thing for her.

“Couldn’t we…can’t we work something out? Like a legal mediator who helps us design a calendar of times and days and holidays, like shared custody or something. I’ve been looking into it.”

I’m stumped. “You have?”

“I thought…well, I guess I should have discussed this with you, but I’d hoped we could work out a schedule, like a divorced couple with shared visitation, until Sadie gets to know you better.”

The word divorce hits me almost as hard as custody. I already am divorced, and while I was grateful we didn’t have children and were able to split everything rather amicably, I always wanted kids. I didn’t realize how much until presented with one. This whole process seems so formal and rigid, sterile and legal, which isn’t how I want things to be with Sadie. I want to get to know her, and I don’t want to squeeze out Roxanne. She’s an important link to who Sadie is, not to mention, it wouldn’t win me any brownie points with my daughter to push away the only living relative from her mother’s side. I just want to do what’s best for everyone.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought you could take Sadie out, get to know her better, or come to the apartment. Whatever seems most comfortable for both of you. Then we could decide on a regular schedule, like Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then every other weekend. We don’t have to be rigid, just respectful. If something doesn’t work for you, I can keep Sadie.”

“What if it doesn’t work for you?” I scoff, remembering what she thinks of me and how kissing her disgusted her.

“Please,” she exaggerates. “The bookstore is my life. I’m always here.” The sarcasm in her tone I recognize because I can relate. The pub is all I have despite my flirtatious nature and all the womanizing Roxanne thinks I do.

“Okay,” I say, and a long pause follows, to the point I wonder if Roxanne has disappeared again.

“Okay what, William?” she asks although there’s no bark in her question. She’s like a timid dog, ready to pounce but pacing before defending itself.

“We can do it your way. For now.” I acquiesce because I don’t think I can be alone with Sadie yet. I mean, I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me. We could use Roxanne as our mediator, but I’ll never admit to Roxie how appreciative I am of her suggestion.

“We can?” Her shriek is almost deafening, and I tug the phone away from my ear. With a chuckle, I return it to the side of my head, hearing her relieved laughter through the phone.

“I take it this makes you happy.” My comment is snarky as I don’t care to please her, but my chest constricts again with the sound. She has a nice laugh.

“You have no idea, William.” She giggles deeper. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I like the sound of her gratitude even better, and a small grin curls my lips. I shouldn’t care about her feelings, but apparently, it’s pleasing me to please her.

+ + +

Roxanne and I map out a plan of visitations and daddy-dates, as she calls them, but the first few will be at her apartment. I have a strange sense Roxie wants to supervise Sadie and me, which is fine because we might need her interference. I’ve been trying to communicate with Sadie, finding myself stiff with each interaction but grateful for texting. A quick have a good day or sleep well fills my week, but I’m not in the practice, and after the first day I forget, Clyde suggests I set reminders so I don’t miss out.

“Daily communication is important. Even a simple text in the morning can be like a hug from an absent parent,” he tells me, and I stare at my big friend.

“How do you know these things?”

He shrugs. “I read.”

Right. Lots of words.

If Roxie wants to admonish me for the time I forgot, she keeps it to herself when Thursday arrives and I’m at her place for dinner and a movie. I’m expecting it to be a night of chick flicks full of cheesy lines and mushy romance, so I’m surprised when Sadie selects Deadpool starring Ryan Reynolds. Roxanne is animated as she says, “Oh, I’ve never watched this movie before.”

Sadie grins and meets my eyes, which I take as a show of solidarity, but I’m a little nervous. I have seen this movie.

“Are we sure this is appropriate?”

Roxanne’s startled expression makes me chuckle. “You’re worried about appropriateness?”

“Okay, you asked for it.” I shrug, settling on the couch. It’s an oversized three-cushion sofa with an extension at one end, like a built-in ottoman. Sadie’s curled up in the corner, forcing me to sit between Roxie and her. It’s almost as if they have their spot—that sort of undesignated seat on a couch where you always sit. It reminds me of being a kid in a house full of mostly boys and the back den which we called the trophy room. Each of us had our place of preference and whether you were sitting there or not, you claimed it once you entered the room. I remember one particular time I wanted my seat back and James wouldn’t relinquish it. The memory makes me miss my older brother.

The movie begins in all its graphic glory, and then Ryan Reynolds meets the girl.

Oh, shit. How could I forget this part?