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39
Maliki
“Is Jessa coming to the festival?”
I shrug at Sierra’s question. “Maybe.”
Didn’t ask. Don’t care.
I tend to tune Jessa out when she’s not talking about Molly, but I might’ve caught the end of her saying she was coming.
“She has a new boyfriend and has been too busy making his life more miserable than mine. I’ll take it,” I add.
Jessa has become tolerable now that she’s grasped Sierra isn’t going anywhere. The signed custody agreement and the new boyfriend have helped, too.
“Good riddance,” Sierra mutters. She aims to steer clear of Jessa as often as she can.
We turn around when Molly comes into the kitchen.
“You ready for the festival?” I ask.
“Yes!” Her excitement dies down, her smile replaced with a frown. “I won’t have any friends there to play with me though.” Her attention shoots to Sierra. “Will you play with me?”
“Duh,” Sierra replies. “There will be a lot of kids there. I bet you nine million dollars you’ll meet new friends and then ditch me to hang out with them.”
“No way. Ilovehanging out with you. You and Aunt Ellie are my best friends in the whole wide world,” Molly argues.
“You and Ellie are my best friends in the whole wide world,” Sierra replies.
“Hey, what about me?” My palm goes to my chest as I fake offense. “Don’t I get a friendship bracelet in this mix?”
Molly shakes her head. “You don’t paint your nails, Dad. You have to do girl stuff to be best friends. You’re my dad who gives me pizza and takes me swimming!”
Dad.It still sounds surreal, being called that.
I’m a dad.
It took Molly a while to call me that—understandable—and the first time she did, swear to fucking God, it was music to my ears. My chest lightened, and I held myself back from jumping in the air with a raised fist.
We get into the car and make the short drive to the benefit festival. Dallas texted me the other day and invited us. His family is throwing it to benefit a local who was recently diagnosed with cancer.
It’ll be my first time at a benefit.
I’ve donated bar gift cards to them but neverattendedone.
It’s a family thing—full of fried food, face-painting, and children’s games.
Not a pastime for a bachelor.
We park in a lot separated by orange cones, and I help Molly out of the car. She walks at my side, swinging her arms up and down while naming off everything she wants to eat and do and see.
For a small town, there’s a full house—well, full parking lot and clubhouse. The local pizza shop owner is playing DJ, blasting some kid shit I’ve never heard. It might be the music Dallas was talking about—Disney stuff.
Chloe swings her arms in the air to get our attention and waves us over to their crowded table.
Chloe and Kyle.
Willow and Dallas.
