“Can’t promise that,” I said with a firm shake of my head. “Next.”
“Trey.”
“Camilla.”
It was adorable when she became angry. “Okay, let’s compromise. If you must bring her something, it has to be no more than ten dollars in value, and it has to be somewhat educational.”
“Maybe,” I admitted on a shrug. “Anything else?”
On the third point, she closed the distance and lowered her voice even further. “You’re just a friend that I used to know before she was born. I decide when she’s ready to know the truth, not you.”
Personally, I was ready to tell Alivia now, but it wasn’t about me. “Fine,” I agreed, knowing if Camilla procrastinated on telling Alivia the truth for too long, I would most definitely pressure her or renege on that agreement.
“Okay, I’m done,” Alivia announced before grabbing my hand and leading me to the tiny kitchen. “We can have a cookie or a cheese stick, but we have to have it with fruit.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Mommy’s rule.”
“Well, Mommy is very smart,” I responded, throwing Camilla a wink, to which she mimicked our daughter’s eye roll. “But maybe she’ll let us have two cookies.”
“Yes!” Alivia agreed, pressing her two hands together and pouting. “Please, Mommy?”
“Pretty please?” I echoed, clamping my hands in the same fashion.
The corner of Camilla’s top lip snarled a bit before she plastered on a fake smile. “Fine, but two small ones… the vanilla wafers.”
“Yay!” As her mother shot daggers my way, Alivia dragged a chair closer to the cabinets and climbed up to retrieve her favorite cookie. “And I choose grapes. Is that okay, Trey?”
“That’s perfect.”
With our daughter’s attention focused on digging out four cookies from the box, I leaned closer to Camilla and whispered directly into her ear, “See… I can compromise.”
Cookies and grapes led to unraveling the Hello Kitty doll from the three thousand twist ties that held it in its box. Once Alivia had scrolled through every saying and demanded I record a message, she propped the cat next to us as we began coloring.
Alivia had dragged out a stack of books and a tiny suitcase full of crayons, plopping them down on the coffee table before passing me an animal book because it was the only one that she had a boy would like.
It didn’t matter that Camilla sat quietly in the chair facing us—Alivia had plenty to say.
“So why do you have so many drawings on your arms?” She had asked this question before, but this time I was prepared.
“Well, when you’re a grown-up, sometimes you like to put pictures on your body of important things in your life. They’re called tattoos.”
Her eyes focused on the arm that lay closest to her. With a scrunched forehead, she tentatively skimmed her small hand across the tribal border running around my wrist and then looked at her fingertips. “How come it doesn’t come off?” she asked, picking up a pink crayon to scribble across a flower on her page.
“They use special crayons.”
“Oh,” she said on a nod, like it all made sense. “I had a tattoo once, but it washed off in the bath. They didn’t use special crayons at the birthday party where I got it.”
“What was it of?”
“A unicorn. They’re magic.” Swapping out the pink crayon for a red one, she rushed on and said, “If it didn’t wash off, I probab-bully would be like a fairy princess now. I didn’t get a chance to wish that.”
“Probably,” Camilla corrected.
“That’s what I said, Mommy.” She sighed, resuming her coloring. This kid was a riot. I imagined swapping jokes with her, clean ones, of course. “When I become a princess, I want a white unicorn that flies so I can ride him everywhere.” I made a mental note to pick up unicorn toys before my next visit. “And when I get big, I’ll get a tattoo of a unicorn so it can’t wash off.” Suddenly, she dropped her crayon and asked, “Mommy, can Trey have dinner with us?”
Not wanting to push my luck, I responded before Camilla could. “I need to go, but maybe I can have dinner with you the next time. How’s that?”
“Okay. When?”
“Um… Livi, it’s almost time for ballet. Can you go get changed? I’ll be in to help you in a few minutes.”
“Oh, can Trey come to see me in ballet someday?”
“I’d love to,” I answered for myself.
“We’ll see,” Camilla countered. “Go on, or we’ll miss the bus.” Her tight smile remained plastered on her face while Alivia skipped out of the living room.
“You take a bus?” Camilla waited a pause before she nodded. “I’ll drive you.”
“In what?”
“A car,” I said, stating the obvious.
“You have a car?”
“Well, I considered taking my horse and buggy here today, but I worried your neighbors wouldn’t appreciate him crapping on your street.”
“Ha ha.” Standing, she folded her arms and raised a brow. “We’ll take the bus.”
“Okay, but next time, I’ll take you. What days does she have ballet?”
Ignoring my question, she fisted her hips and barked, “So you expect to just saunter into her class without drawing any kind of attention to yourself?” My frown proved I hadn’t thought that through. “Exactly.” I watched as she began pacing back and forth. “Trey, I think we need some definitive boundaries. As is, it won’t be long before one of my nosy neighbors notices you coming here. And then it’ll be a matter of time before the media figures out why.”
“Okay, you’re right.” Relief finally smoothed the lines on her forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll have lunch together while we iron out all the details.”
I didn’t know if I should laugh or scoff at the way she once again rolled her eyes on a heavy sigh.
Chapter 10
Trey
The moment I got back to my apartment I spent an hour researching the safest car on the market. My gut wanted to get her the newest top-of-the-line luxury vehicle, but knowing Camilla, she’d throw a fit over its impracticality. So instead I purchased a modest sedan that rated highest in safety while loading it up with every possible upgrade. I even paid the saleswoman to pick up and install the safest booster seat for Alivia.
That night, I went to bed feeling overwhelmingly paternal. In a few days, my daughter would no longer need to take the bus wherever she went. That led to thoughts of all the places I wanted to take her one day.
I imagined how Camilla would explain things to Alivia once we told her the truth. Upon hearing I was her father, I pictured those crystal-blue eyes widening in surprise. But before her sweet little mind could dwell on the negative of such a profound realization, I’d wrap her in my arms to settle any fears. I’d promise to protect her every day of her life. I’d be sure she knew how my life hadn’t been complete until that moment.
And once my arms relaxed around my daughter, she’d look at me with bright eyes and tell me how happy she was that I was her daddy. I envisioned her years down the line, smiling and singing along while front and center at one of my concerts. I’d hate everyone she dated, measuring them up and knowing they fell short. I’d even dare to dream of walking her down the aisle and giving her away to a man worthy of her love.