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My eyes are drawn to the little girl as they make their way toward me. I can feel Chloe’s stare and her uncertainty. She has her mother’s smile, but she has my eyes.
My eyes.
Why does this little girl have my eyes?
Slowly lifting my head, I make eye contact with Chloe and she nods her head, answering the only question running through my mind right now.
Is she mine?
Squatting down to her size as she approaches, I hold out my hand to her. “Hi, Lola. My name is Wyatt.”
“Hi,” she says, hugging Chloe’s leg.
“Do you think I can steal your mama for a few minutes? Would that be okay?”
“Okay. Aunt Addy!” she hollers, unwrapping herself from Chloe and walking away. “Mama’s busy. Can I have more cake?”
Laughing, I turn to find Jones and a pretty brunette watching us. Lola walks up and grabs the woman’s hand. That must be Addy. The Addy that Jones was going on and on about last night.
“Inside?” she asks, my attention drawn away from my little girl and back to her mother.
“I think that would be a good idea.”
As Chloe shuts her bedroom door, I begin to pace. There are a million questions running through my mind. Why being the most important.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Followed closely by how and when?
“Areyou sure you’re okay? We can stay in tonight.”
Chloe’s face is pale. She’s been in and out of the bathroom throwing up all morning.
“No, I think I’m okay now.” There must be a look of doubt on my face because she continues. “I swear. It must be something I ate.”
“If you say so. If you throw up one more time, though, we’re staying in.”
“Deal,” she chimes, skipping over to where I am and plopping down on my lap.
The afternoon flies by. Chloe laughs and dances along with our friends down at the pond as if she wasn’t feeling like crap a few hours ago. Once the sun begins to set, I start a fire and someone starts passing out red plastic cups filled with whatever cheap booze they got their hands on.
Chloe takes a sip and instantly her demeanor changes. She stops dancing and looks over to where I am, sitting on a stump, watching her. When her eyes widen, I tilt my head and then she’s off and running.
Unsure of what’s happening, I follow after her, catching up just as she vomits behind a tree.
“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving,” I say as round two hits her. “I need to get you home. We’ll stop at the pharmacy on the way and pick you up a few things.”
Once Chloe’s certain her stomach is empty, we walk to the car and head into town. She takes forever in the pharmacy, insisting she goes in alone. As I pull up in front of my house, I make sure she’s okay to drive herself home. If I had known she was going to get sick again, I would have driven us tonight.
She promises she’s fine, so we make plans to meet up at the pond the next morning. I want to see her, to make sure she’s feeling better before I go to work for a twelve-hour shift. Plus, I have something for her.
My plan was to give it to her tonight. I was going to pull her away from the party, down to the pond, and give it to her under the stars. She got sick before I had the chance.
Tomorrow morning I’ll give it to her. It won’t be as romantic, but I think she’ll be just as surprised.
With her leaving in a few weeks, I want to make sure she knows this isn’t over for us. A promise ring is just that. I promise to be faithful to one another until the day comes that I can buy her a proper ring.
Because I will marry this girl one day. There’s no doubt in my mind. She’s the one for me.
