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“I just thought it was beautiful. It means solitary clearing, which isn’t profound, yet the name sounded serene and peaceful. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Her middle name, Lisette, is my grandmother’s name. Ainsley Lisette Hathaway.”
Luke drifts off as he calmly stares at the pavement. I don’t know if I said something to offend him.
I look at my feet moving and add, “Knowing your mom was Annie makes the name even more special. You loved her very much.”
“Yes. She was my whole world.”
“Are you close to your dad?”
“He’s my best friend. I wish I lived closer. I moved from Boston to Walden because it’s where I was able to find a full-time job as a fireman. Where I grew up in New York state it’s volunteer only, unlike the city. In Connecticut, eighty-three percent of our state’s firefighters are volunteers, so I couldn’t lose the opportunity or the benefits.”
“I recall you having a dream of opening a bar and restaurant. What changed your mind?”
“It was a lifestyle choice. Being available for my mother was the main reason. I still go back to my dad’s house often. It’s just over the New York-Connecticut border. We’re kind of all each other has right now.”
“Do you think he’ll move to Connecticut to be closer to you?”
“Hopefully, he won’t have to.” He turns his body toward me as we walk. “He’s itching to meet Ainsley. When I told him about her, he was in shock and then went out and bought her a softball glove.”
My feet halt on the path. “Really? That’s all so—”
“I know you’re worried about all of this impacting Ainsley. My dad knows he has to wait to meet her until you’re ready. It’s just that he never thought he’d ever be a grandfather. The man has had a lot of pain in his life, yet he’s the most optimistic guy you’ll ever meet. He’s a good man, I swear. He’s just really excited, and he hasn’t had a lot to be excited about in the last few years.”
I place a hand on his arm. His chest puffs in reaction, and his bicep flexes.
“I was going to say, it’s sweet,” I say. His shoulders relax, and the trepidation in his eyes disappears. “My parents have never bought anything like that for Ainsley. They’ve never played a game with her or taken to her interests. We go to dinner with them a lot, and they’ve watched her overnight, but that’s the extent of it. She says they usually watch documentaries or have her play alone in her room when she’s there. My parents aren’t very kid-friendly. They’rechildren should be seen, not heardkind of people.”
“Be warned. Mitch Incendio is ready for a game of catch with his granddaughter. I told him she likes to play dress-up, so he got her a Rockford Peaches costume fromA League of Their Own.”
I squeeze his arm as I smile. “She’s gonna love it.”
“I hope so.”
His eyes twinkle. I get lost in that twinkle for a beat too long. His features turn smooth as his lips part. My hand is still clinging to his sweater, and I focus on the wool instead of my face, neck, and ears, which suddenly feel incredibly warm.
I look away.
I start to walk, and Luke takes his place beside me once again.
Ainsley is now on the playground, going down a slide. We watch as she runs across the drawbridge and stops at the top of the slide. She looks around the park, seemingly for us. When she sees us on the path, she lifts her arm high and waves wildly. Luke and I wave back. Appeased she knows where we are, she slides down and runs around the structure to go up again.
“I’m glad we can talk like this. I didn’t know what kind relationship you and I would have,” I confess.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I know I live far away and can’t commit to the kind of time a father should, but I’m here,” he says and then adds, “I’d be happy to watch Ainsley. Maybe on those weekends when you’re working, I can try to rearrange my shifts.”
My feet shuffle as I slow down. “Luke—”
“I love meeting at the park, but I want to visit at your house—or better yet, have her over to my house. She’d love Joe.”
“The park is a safe space.”
“Exactly.” He stops and points around the park, filled with people enjoying a beautiful day. “This is the kind of place men who are court-ordered to have a chaperone for their parental visitations meet with their kids.”
“You’re a tad dramatic, but I get it. The answer is still no. I’m not ready yet.”
“She’s my daughter too.” His tone rises, and I gasp.
“Please don’t take her from me.”
