Page 46 of The Wrong Groom

“That’s probably for the best,” I say. “Now, do you want to go get that ice cream?”

At the suggestion, Peyton’s face falls. “Daddy⁠—”

“Come on, Bug,” I encourage. “The ice cream booth is right over there. I’ll come with you, but I want you to order it yourself, okay?”

Her nose scrunches up with worry, and internally, I sigh. I should’ve known this would happen.

“Daddy, do I have to?” Her voice is plaintive. She doesn’t want to speak to a stranger. It’s a pretty common thing for us. Almost every time we go out, I try to convince her to interact with people, but it’s a challenge.

“Yes, you do.” I rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But I’ll be right there with you. I know you can do this.”

Peyton sniffs, her lower lip wobbling. I know from experience that the tears are coming next. She shuffles, anxious, glancing between me and the ice cream booth a few yards away.

“What’s wrong?” Alexis asks.

I turn to her. “Peyton’s not the biggest fan of talking to people she doesn’t know,” I explain. “I’ve been trying to help her get a little confidence, but…” I pause, glancing down at my daughter, who now seems to be trying to hide behind my legs, shielding herself from the view of the ice cream vendor. “I don’t think I’m doing a great job of that.”

Alexis frowns thoughtfully for a moment, taking a sip of her herbal tea. Then, to my surprise, she crouches down next to Peyton.

“I know what that’s like,” she says. “Talking to strangers can be really scary.”

Peyton looks at her with watery eyes, her little fist pressed to her mouth in anxiety. “But you’re a grown-up,” she says timidly.

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t a kid once,” Alexis points out. “And trust me, things don’t stop being scary once you’re a grown-up. You just get better at dealing with the scary stuff.”

Peyton stares at Alexis with wide eyes. She looks back at the ice cream booth, her expression more thoughtful.

“What scares you about it?” Alexis asks.

“I don’t talk so good,” Peyton mumbles, her lisp on prominent display. “And I don’t want people to make fun of me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Alexis says, reaching out to give Peyton’s arm a little squeeze. “You want to know a secret?”

Peyton nods, blinking rapidly.

“I’m not the best at talking either. I’ve always had a stutter. When I was your age, it was much worse than it is now. I couldn’t turn it off. I sounded l-like th-this all th-the t-t-time.” Alexis performs the stutter, and I realize suddenly that I’ve heard it before. I had assumed that her occasional stammer was due solely to nerves, but I guess not.

“It got better over time,” she continues, “but it never went away completely. It still comes out sometimes, especially when I’m scared or upset. But you know what?”

“What?” Peyton whispers.

“It got easier to talk to strangers once I realized that they didn’t care about my stutter. They weren’t trying to make fun of me. That ice cream man? He’s not mean like that. He just wants to get you the right kind of ice cream.”

Peyton stares at her for a few seconds. Then her gaze drifts over to the ice cream booth again. She sniffles but lifts her chin.

“Okay,” she finally says, her voice steadier. “I can try.”

Alexis offers an encouraging smile. “You want me to come with you?”

Peyton nods. “Yes, please.” She holds out her hand, and Alexis takes it, guiding her over to the ice cream vendor. I follow a few feet behind them, bemused.

The vendor, a young kid who looks around college age, leans forward and smiles at Peyton. “Hey there! What can I get for you?”

For a moment, Peyton is frozen, fear on her face. Then her gaze darts to Alexis, and she steels herself. “Can I get one scoop of cookie dough, please?” The words come out in a rush, but thankfully the guy doesn’t seem to have any trouble understanding her.

“Of course, kid.” The vendor glances up at me. “Anything else?”

Peyton’s eyes are wide. She seems startled by her own audacity. Then she straightens up and says, her voice bolder, “Actually, can I get two scoops of cookie dough, please?”