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“Landon?” she whispers.
My fingers flex involuntarily around her shoulder. I quickly lower my hand, brush at where the leaf was, and stop touching her altogether. “Yeah.”
“There’s something I want to ask you about.” Inhaling slowly again, she turns to face me. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are soft.
I nod and put the leaf in the trashcan near us. “Okay.”
“Wait here?”
I nod again.
She walks away, and I shuffle around to watch her go into the living room. She picks up something from the floor—Rae’s school bag, I see as she’s coming back. She sets it on the kitchen table, unzips it, digs around in it for a few seconds, and then pauses. Pulls out a gold piece of paper. Tucks her bottom lip into her mouth. Takes a steadying breath, walks to me, and hands me…
…a flyer…
…for a daddy/daughter elementary school dance.
Silence rings around the room as I stare at the fancy header, too surprised to do anything else.
It’s so quiet that I can hear every faint, uneven breath Liv’s lungs draw and release.
When the flyer starts looking a little funny, I realizemylungs have stopped working. I have to actively remind them to deliver oxygen to my brain, because I need to read this thing and I can’t read it if I pass out.
After two deep breaths, I begin to look down the paper, look at the details about the time and place of the late-November dance, the dress code, and—
‘If Dad is unable to attend, please invite the most special gentleman you know to attend in his place!’
That’s what’s printed at the bottom.
I read the sentence again, then a third time.
My heart is swelling so big inside my chest that it hurts.
Liv said she wants to ask me about something, and she gave me this. All I know of Rae’s absent dad is that no one ever found out who exactly he is. And there are no men in their lives other than me.
Hopeful that I’m not reading this wrong, I lift my eyes to her.
She’s looking at me with that lip still in her mouth. Her arms are crossed tightly, and her eyes are now brimming with tears.
Oh, wow. Oh, God, wow.
“I, um,” she says quietly, a little shakily, dropping her gaze to the flyer, “found this in her backpack on Friday afternoon. I—I check her backpack, you know, because that’s what parents and guardians are told to do.”
I get out a hoarse, “Yeah.”
“She didn’t read it when they gave it to her, I don’t think, because she wouldnothave forgotten to mention a dress-up dance to me, plus I asked her if there was anything fun coming up at school after the Halloween party and she said no. And she looked fine, you know? She didn’t—she didn’t look sad, like she was reminded of how she doesn’t have a….”
Her chin trembles and tears spill over her bottom lashes.
“Sorry,” she whimpers, her throat audibly tight, her hands lifting.
But unlike last night in the hallway, I beat her to wiping the tears off her cheeks.
She doesn’t object in the slightest—not in expression, not in body language—even when I repeat it. In fact, she touches my hand before dropping hers again, then continues to look at the flyer, her features creased with Rae-centered sadness.
“I understand if this is too big for you, but Ihaveto try. I have to see if there’s any chance—you know, before she comes to understand what this dance is, because she’s like me, you know? She’s never known her dad. And I remember there being this exact event whenIwas little, and I didn’t have anyone wonderful to….”
She closes her eyes, sniffles, then looks up at me with timid hope.
