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“Of course we can get ice cream!” Wade shouts.
Jolene squeals and shakes my shoulders.
“Ice cream!” she sings.
Rhett laughs at both of them, and it looks like his heart is going to explode from how much he loves them. There’s a lot of things you can say about Rhett, and not a lot of those are good things. But you can’t fault him for how much he loves his kids. Just seeing them interact for the last two weeks has made me realize that for how grumpy he may be on the outside, this man has a soft, gooey center reserved especially for his kids.
Am I attracted to a hot single dad? Is that what this is? He makes me want to slap him on a daily basis, but when I see him interact with his kids, my heart wants to explode. It’s the most attractive thing I think I’ve ever seen.
And when he goes from looking at them to winking at me, I think I’m doomed.
Because I think I want this. The kids on my lap, the man in the kitchen, and the promise of ice cream. Sounds like a pretty good life to me. It sounds settled and happy and everything I haven’t had.
After spendingthe morning shopping for everything under the damn sun, she’s now in the downstairs bathroom, letting her hair sit in pink dye while she does the same to Joey’s. And don’t think for a second that Wade is left out because they all convinced me to let Wade get some purple.
“It won’t show up as bright as mine,” she told them both, trying to manage their hopes. “I have blonde hair, and you guys have gorgeous brown hair. That means it’ll be darker on you.”
They’re still so excited, sitting on the bathroom counter while Poppy sits behind on a barstool and paints their hair wild colors. I didn’t even want to let her dye her own hair, let alone the kids, with how bad her arm is swollen. I know that shit hurts, but that woman is more stubborn than a dang mule sometimes.
I’m leaning against the doorframe, listening to them chatter about their friends at school, how they were excited to be out for the summer, and how they spend their days with Momma. Poppy takes it all in, looking at each of them as they speak in the mirror. My heart swells with pride at these two kids. They’re brilliant, funny, and so fucking cute it makes my chest hurt.
Their momma has no fucking clue what she lost when she left them. But Poppy…she laughs at their jokes and talks to them like she’s genuinely interested in their lives. And I don’t think it’s a front. I think she actuallylikesmy kids. And I know they like her. Anytime she isn’t around, all they can talk about is Poppy this and Poppy that. They beg me to go play with her and talk about all the things they get to do when they take her lunch.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t do the same. Every day since the first day I saw her, all I can think about is her. Sometimes I’m angry, sometimes I’m turned on, but more often than not, I justmiss her. And I fight that feeling every damn day. I can’t get too close to her. I won’t let her break my kids’ hearts.
But then she walks around my house in tight shorts and bends over when she knows I’m looking. And then she laughs at something Wade says so hard she snorts before resting her hand on my arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She walks around outside barefoot with her crutch, bending over to pick up wildflowers when she finds them to braid into Joey’s hair.
And I’m gone all over again. I can’t escape her. I can’t escape this feeling.
“Daddy! Hello!”
Joey is waving at me like I’ve been staring off into space. But I haven’t been. I’ve been staring at Poppy. She smirks as she makes sure the towel around Joey’s neck is clipped shut.
“Yes, baby girl?”
“Mine is done. We just have to let it sit. What do you think?” She hops off the counter, and Wade scoots into her previous spot. I look down at her with her forehead stained pink and her dark brown hair looking more maroon than pink.
“I think you’re gonna look gorgeous.”
She smiles, all happiness and excitement for tryin’ something new.
“I know.” She shrugs and then takes off into the kitchen, yellin’ about being hungry.
“You better go fetch her,” Poppy tells me, a genuine smile on her face that makes her pretty eyes shine. “That pink dye gets on your pretty hardwood floors or white countertops, I’m not sure how easily it’s gonna come up.”
I shrug. “If the biggest thing I have to worry about in life is some pink hair dye droppin’ on the floor or a pink handprint on my countertop, I think I’m doin’ alright, poppyseed.”
“That would’ve been nice to hear growing up.” Her face turns a bit sad. She’s still masking it with a smile, but I can see it in her eyes that she’s thinking back on something that isn’t pleasant.
“Angry parents?” I ask.
She hums and nods. “Dad wasn’t around much and left by the time I was ten. Mom worked hard to take care of me, but I come from a small town riddled with…” She trails off, looking at Wade and then back to me. “Riddled with people whoeat too much candyand hardly any jobs available.”
“Ah.” I nod sympathetically. I’m not sure what else to say. I want to ask her more about her mom, like if she was someone whoate too much candyor if she was able to stay clean for Poppy. But I don’t. This isn’t a conversation you have when your five-year-old is present.
“Anyway.” She sighs. “I swear my mom loved a clean house more than she loved me. If I spilled water, I was in trouble. If I left a cup out, I was in trouble. It was a make-your-bed-every-morning type of household.”
“I never make my bed,” Wade says as he plays with his toes. “And I spilled milk once, but Daddy didn’t care. He just helped me clean it up.”
