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three
. . .
Tuck
Fear of Flying
The first thingI hear when I walk through the door at five o’clock that afternoon is laughter. It’s loud, and it’s coming from upstairs.
And then: “Okay, okay. Let’s try it again. Arms out! Great job, koala bear. You remember how to spell your name?”
“K!” a little voice shouts in reply.
Clap. “A!” Maren replies.
Clap. “B!”
More laughter. “Almost. T!” Clap. “I!”
“Eeeeeeeee!”
“Go Katie, go Katie, go, go, go Katie,” Maren sings, clapping along to the beat. “Now stomp those feet and shake your hands. That’s it! Wow, you’re adorable.”
“I am adorable. My daddy says so.”
More laughter.
My heart squeezes as I hustle up the stairs, groceries tucked underneath my arm. Katie and Maren are in the family room. Maren pushed the coffee table to the side toclear some space, where she and Katie are currently standing with their feet apart and their fists on their hips.
I don’t know a damn thing about cheerleading, but I’m pretty sure that’s some kind of special cheer stance Maren is teaching her.
Their backs are to me, so I get to watch them for a second. Katie is still in her koala bear costume (of course). She’s looking up at Maren with a big old smile on her sweet little face.
“Let’s do it again. Is that a good idea?” Katie asks.
Maren reaches down to tuck Katie’s hair back into the hood of her costume. “It’s a great idea.”
My new nanny must’ve heard me coming up the stairs, because she glances over her shoulder. Our eyes lock. My stomach dips.
She’s wearing jean shorts and a cropped Carolina blue T-shirt. The hem lifts when she raises her arm to wave at me, revealing a slice of tanned stomach that makes my own stomach seize. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders.
She’s barefoot. Face a little pink, I imagine from playing so hard with my daughter.
Godfuckingdamnit,Maren is pretty. She’s got purple thumbprints underneath her eyes—sounds like she doesn’t sleep much—but those eyes are alive. Intelligent. I don’t know if it’s their deep brown color or what, but there’s this warmth about them that coats the inside of my chest with fiery light. Same way whiskey does.
Speaking of whiskey. I need a drink. Stat.
“Look who’s here,” Maren says.
Katie turns and literally screams with delight. “Daddy!”
“Squish! I missed you today.”
A grin splits my face as I set down the groceries and scoop my daughter into my arms. Never gets old, how excited she is to see me.
I give her a squeeze, kissing her nose and her cheeks and the palm she offers me for a high-five. She giggles and rests her head on my chest, tucking her body into the crook of my arm.
Closing my eyes, I inhale the scent of her skin. I take a beat to memorize everything about this moment. The weight of her little body. The sound of her voice when she says,Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, we are being cheerleaders! Can you spell your name? Maren said she’ll have her mommy bring us her pom-poms. Isn’t that neat?
