I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

“Are you hungry?” he asks Molly. She nods and he places her in the chair beside me. Not the booster seat. I slide the plate I fixed in front of her as Logan moves the booster out of the way and sits on her other side. “You look tired.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Of course I’m tired. I spend all day trying to keep Molly happy. Playing therapist because I can’t afford one by making her do her speech exercises, which are going horribly. Trying to keep Sarah’s house from being destroyed because all kids do is make messes. And then, at night, I’m up late completing my assignments so I can graduate virtually in December.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way.” Logan grabs Molly’s water bottle off the floor and sets it on the table. “I’m just saying, you look like you could use some help.”

I grab the water bottle and take it to the sink. You can’t give a kid something off the floor without rinsing it, but of course Logan doesn’t know these things. “I’m fine. We just have to find our groove here. That’s all.”

I hand Molly her water and she greedily snatches it from me. Logan watches her with amusement, while I clear my throat. Molly looks up at me, places four fingers over her lips, then moves her hand forward and down.

“You’re welcome,” I say, taking my seat again.

“Let me help, Danika. I’m her dad.”

I know he’s trying to be nice, but I hate hearing that word. Dad. My dad hasn’t come by once since I moved back and it hurts. I know it’s wrong to take my frustrations out on Logan, but I can’t help it. “You don’t know the first thing about being a dad, Logan. You haven’t been around.”

“That’s not my fault!” Logan’s voice drops two octaves. He’s mad, rightfully so, but is probably trying not to yell for Molly’s sake.

“I’m sorry, that was a low blow.” I owe him that apology, but that doesn’t mean what I said untrue. Logan has gotten a tiny glimpse of what the last four years have been like. He wasn’t there for the late nights or early mornings. He didn’t sit in the rocking chair all night, because that was the only way Molly would sleep. He has no idea the sacrifices it takes to be a parent. “You can’t walk away when you decide things are too hard or that you miss your old life.”

“I wasn’t the one who walked away, Danika. You were.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to let him get me worked up. Yes, I left. Yes, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best decision to have made, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. “You’re never going to let me forget that. Are you?”

“Not if you keep throwing it in my face how I wasn’t there the first four years of her life. It’s not fair. I can be a good dad, Danika. Just give me the chance.”

23

Danika

“Well if it isn’t my favorite wedding-goer,” a deep voice purrs from behind me. I ignore it, not sure if the man is talking to me until he chuckles and says, “So, how is it having your ex for a brother? As creepy as you thought?”

I look over my shoulder, past the display of fruit on aisle three, heat rushing to my cheeks, and grin. “Super creepy. How are you…? You know, I never caught your name.”

“Travis.” He walks around a stack of bananas to extend his hand and I shake it. “I looked for you, you know. Called you a few times, too.”

I push my buggy down the cereal aisle, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms because it used to be Molly’s favorite. Travis arches an eyebrow but doesn’t ask about my sugary sweet choice. “Did you now?”

“Yup,” he says, putting a box of maple oatmeal in his basket. “Truth be told, I’d completely given up on seeing you again.”

I grab a box of granola bars then head down the baby aisle. “Lucky for you, I just moved back to town.” I pause, letting his grin stretch ear to ear then add, “with my daughter.”

His smile falters for a blip of a second before he asks, “Did the dad move back too?”

I laugh. “Dad is said ‘brother-in-law’ and we aren’t really on the best terms at this moment.”

“So, he won’t care if I take you out to dinner Friday night?”

I bat my lashes and attempt to flirt. It’s been so long, I don’t know If I’m doing it right. I either look really cute or completely stupid. I’m hoping for the former. “Don’t

know. Don’t really care. Where did you have in mind?”

I sit in front of the full length mirror in Sarah’s room, watching her curl the ends of my hair with her wand. We never had these moments in high school, where we fixed each other's hair and makeup before dates. It’s been nice having her fawn over me, and she did an amazing job with my makeup, but my stomach’s twisting. I feel like I’m on the upward climb of a roller coaster.

“I can’t do this,” I groan, wrapping my arms around my waist.

Sarah releases the last bit of hair she was working on, then runs her fingers through my curls for what she calls a loose bedroom look. “Relax, you’ve got this.”

I stand and look at myself again. Sarah’s picked out my favorite dress, a black number that flares at the hips with ¾ sleeves. It’s got a vintage swing look to it, but falls above the knee instead of mid-thigh. “I don’t know. What about Molly? How are you going to handle bedtime by yourself?”