“Got it!” Prissy yells.
Whitney drops her hands to her sides, stepping back like she’s just been burned.
“Go get yours,” Prissy orders, heaving for breath from her mad dash down the stairs. “So Momma can take the picture.
“Wait,” I say, crouching to her level while whipping the arm around that’s been hidden behind my back for so long now it’s gone numb. “Almost forgot. These are for you.”
“You got me flowers?”
“I did.”
Without warning, she flings her arms around my neck. I swear my heart grows three sizes. “Thank you, Wyatt.”
I rub a hand over her back, patting it gently. “You’re welcome, squirt.”
“I’ll go put these in a vase while you get your jacket,” Whitney says, taking the bouquet from Prissy and rushing off, I’m assuming to avoid us seeing her become emotional.
If that’s what helps her sleep at night, I’ll never mention the tears I watched her swat away on her way to the kitchen.
“Well don’t you look beautiful, Priscilla,” Principal Wyler greets as we walk through the gym doors into a winter wonderland. “Where’s Hank tonight?”
“Embalming Joel Dugas,” Priss answers with a sly grin.
God, I love the fire in this kid. Her snappy response has me beaming with pride like I had anything at all to do with her badassery.
The middle-aged woman blanches before checking herself and plastering on one of the most unnatural smiles I’ve ever borne witness to. “Aren’t you going to introduce your date?”
“Oh, yeah!” Her little hand tightens around mine. “This is Wyatt. He’s my momma’s boyfriend, and when they get married, he’s gonna be my stepdad.”
From her lips to God’s ears.
“Oh?” She brings a hand to her chest. “I didn’t even know your momma was dating anyone.”
“Just friends,” I say, in a whisper carefully concealed behind the back of my hand just in case this conversation gets back to Whitney. It’s a precarious position to be in, for sure—not wanting to hurt Prissy but terrified of pissing her momma off.
“Of course you are.” Mrs. Wyler gives a discrete wink before pointing us in the direction of the photographer. “Enjoy y’all’s evening.”
My answering smile is forced. I’m not in the practice of putting on airs, but I can’t help but think she’s one of the ones making Whitney self-conscious about her parenting skills. Apparently I’m now holding grudges on her behalf.
I think that pretty much makes me husband material. I’ll have to let her know.
After waiting in line and having our picture taken, we head toward the big round tables set up in the back. At the center of each is wide array of hot chocolate toppings meant to customize the drinks that are delivered to us piping hot as soon as the mom in charge sees me pull out my date’s chair.
“You’re not adding any of this yummy stuff?” Priss gapes at me while shoving a handful of caramel chips into hers.
“I’m good.” I take a sip from the foam cup to prove it.
She shrugs, adds a few blocks of Hershey’s chocolate and a handful of marshmallows, then begins mixing the chunky concoction with a peppermint stick
This kid is gonna be lit in a few minutes.
“Hey,” I say when I notice girls clustering together at the other tables, “don’t you wanna go sit with some of your friends?”
She quits her stirring, drops the stick, and stares up at me with the most pitiful of expressions. “They think I’m weird.”
The air whooshes from my chest. “All of them?”
She nods, then shrugs it off. “Paw says they’re just jealous cuz I’m the smartest. I let him believe that because I think it makes him feel better about things. But I know they just don’t like me.”
Adrenaline floods my veins. I’m angry enough to break shit—ready to go to war for this kid. “You have no friends?” I ask, trying to keep a steady tone while secretly dying inside.
“Oh, no…I do.” Her eyes that were once twinkling with excitement are glistening for an entirely other reason now. “Jacob and Preston are my BFFs, but this is a girl thing, so…”
“So, they couldn’t come?”
She nods.
While digesting this new information, I become hyperaware of what’s taking place behind us. The whispers about her “ugly” black dress. Her “boy” boots. The mystery behind her date…me.
One of those awful little girls whisper-yells to her friends, “She thinks she’s so cool because she got someone besides her creepy grandpa to come with her.”
I’m already seeing red when the little brat’s father laughs at her antics. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to punch him square in his jaw. Instead, I turn and level him with a pair of warning eyes when Prissy isn’t paying attention. He has enough sense to look ashamed.
“Come on,” I say, reaching for her hand when that Whip Nae Nae song comes on and flurry of pink rushes by, headed for the dance floor.
She stares at me like a deer in headlights, unmoving.
“You know the steps; I’ve seen you do it a million times in the lobby after school.”
Prissy brings her thumbnail to her mouth, chewing nervously. “You’ll come with me?”
“Well, duh.” I make my voice loud enough for the mean dads to hear. “What kind of man sits on his butt and watches his date dance?”
Finally, a grin. Albeit small and wobbly, but right now I’ll take it.
“Okay.” She sighs deeply before slapping her little hand into mine. “Let’s do this.”
With the upmost pride, I lead my date to the dance floor, front and center. She glances up at me, gnawing on her lip, while together we wait for the chorus to hit. Then, I put my nightly YouTube dance lessons to the test.
“You know the steps,” Prissy squeals in shock, while nae-nae’ing like a fucking boss.
“Learned it just for you.”
“Wyatt?” she calls while we’re breaking down the Stanky Legg and all the little snooty girls crowd around, cheering us on.
“Yeah?”
“You’re a really good fake dad.”
I’m so deeply touched by her words that I can’t do anything but offer her a smile, fight back tears, and keep on moving.
When I agreed to this date, I went all in, determined to give Prissy a magical night she wouldn’t soon forget, never expecting it’d turn out to be one of the most memorable of my life.
“Where should I put her?”
This image of Wyatt, with my sleeping child cradled in his arms, will be etched in my mind for as long as there is a heart pushing blood through my veins.
“How was it?” I whisper, trying not to become emotional while signaling for him to follow me up to the apartment.
“Best night of my whole entire life!” the little faker proclaims.
“That so?” I laugh, holding the door open so he can pass through, then trailing them to her room. “In all your six years, huh?”
“Yep!” She yawns, peering at me over his shoulder. “You shoud’a seen Lydia’s stupid face when me and him showed out on the dance floor.”