Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“A playdate?”
“Yeah, like we could go do something together so she can get to know me. What about…” I rack my brain for ideas. “The zoo or something.”
Penelope pulls a face. “Um, sure.”
“What’s that look for?”
“I hate the zoo.” She laughs. “Don’t ask me why. I’ve just never liked it.” She begins babbling. “It feels too much like a chore and isn’t a ton of fun. But we can do the zoo if that’s what you want.”
“Oh. With that ringing endorsement? No thanks, I’ll take your word for it.”
She seems to be giving this some thought. “There’s a trampoline park in Oak Park.”
“Where is Oak Park?”
“It’s a suburb. It takes about twenty minutes to get there from here, but it’s a small town. We’ve only been to the trampoline park once, and Skipper was so excited she almost lost her mind.”
“Can grown-ups jump?”
“Totally.”
“Aw, sweet. Did I ever tell you I took gymnastics when I was younger?” Not many people know that.
“I think I remember you saying something about that.” But we were together a long time ago, so I’ve forgotten many things about you, are the unspoken words that follow.
“Does…Skipper do any activities?” Do any activities? Ugh, that sounded lame. “Is she in any?”
Penelope nods. “She loves baseball and soccer. In the summer, I have her in swim lessons. But nothing like ballet or gymnastics. They have teams at this age, but it’s a hefty commitment that I don’t have time for.”
Right. She mentioned she works a lot at a job she loves but also hates.
It’s strange to be discussing any of this stuff with her. Strange that I’m asking questions about a daughter I didn’t know I had. Strange that I’m not angrier.
It’s as if I have no idea how to be mad at Penelope.
I want to be.
Honestly, I do.
I tried. Listed all the reasons I should be good and pissed off. All the reasons I should chew her ass out and give her a piece of my mind:
She lied to me.
She lied to my daughter.
She deprived me of many years of knowing Skipper.
This whole situation has me feeling clueless and useless as if I never mattered.
This whole situation has me confused, frustrated, and emotional.
I don’t know how to act. How to behave.
What to say or do next.
The one thing I do know is that anger won’t help. It won’t get me any answers, and it won’t allow me to know my daughter.
Shit, I can’t believe it. I can say that same sentence over and over a thousand times, and I can still barely believe the words.
My daughter.
Our daughter.
I don’t just have a child. I have a kid. An elementary school-aged girl. One who likes soccer and baseball.
“We can do the trampoline park. That sounds good.” I shoot her a sidelong glance. “Does tomorrow work?”
Penelope hesitates, then nods. “Sure.”
She’s in no position to argue. I’m not looking for a debate or to fuck up her day even though she’s just done a number on my entire life.
It will never be the same.
No one knows I’m in Illinois. My friend and agent, Elias, thinks I’m home during this bye week, working out at the gym and taking it easy.
Little does he know I’m a plane flight away and about to meet the girl I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.
“What else is she like?”
“Well. She talks a lot. Loves the sound of her own voice.” That makes me smile. Where Penelope was rather quiet, I talk a lot too, for the most part. “And she loves cheese.”
“Cheese? That seems random.”
“Kid can’t get enough of it.” Penelope laughs. “She hasn’t had a Barbie phase yet, but she likes reading and is already into some shorter chapter books. Definitely likes to spend time crafting and making things, beads, pictures. Pictures with beads.”
“So basically, she likes making messes?”
“Basically.” Beside me, Penelope shrugs. “If I’m baking something or making dinner, she always wants to help, and she enjoys watching that Kids Baking Championship show on TV even though there aren’t many seasons so we have to watch them over and over.”
Sounds painful.
“Sounds like you don’t enjoy the kids baking show.”
Penelope makes a groaning sound. “What I enjoy is heckling the participants even though they can’t hear me. I’ll shout at the TV—say, a little boy baked a cake, and he forgot to add flour so it didn’t rise, and he starts bawling. I’ll yell for the judge to get him off the show, and Skipper will shout at me for being mean to little kids.”
“Okay, that’s something I can get behind. I also love shouting at the television, but usually, it’s a professional football game or something like that.” Whatever floats Skipper’s boat.
“I don’t think there’s anything that kid doesn’t like,” Penelope tells me. “There isn’t much she won’t eat. I didn’t prepare special foods just for her when she was younger. She had what I had for dinner. It’s made life so much easier now that she’s older, and I know Davis appreciates it when he watches her.”