“Not into hockey anymore?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“Not so much,” she mumbles, but I don’t buy it.
Pushing my plate a few inches away, I cross my forearms on the table and lean toward her. “Lucy… you begged me to have a party this summer with the Cup so you could invite all your friends. I know you’re still into it.”
And that pleased me. While Lucy didn’t come to all my games, she was there for the final round and was so proud of her old man for winning the Cup championship. But that excitement has fizzled away now the new season has started and I’m back into work mode again.
When she stays silent, I push a little, possibly for my own ego. “Come on, kid. You used to be my biggest fan. You love hockey. Has so much changed in so little time?”
And fuck if I’m not suddenly afraid of that answer. I’m only slightly relieved when she says, “I’m thirteen. My interests have changed.”
“Like what?” I ask curiously, eager to know these things about my daughter.
Lucy works another piece of pepperoni off and ignores my question, nibbling on it while staring at her plate.
“Boys?” I take a guess exaggeratingly in a hysterical, high-pitched tone. “Is it boys? It can’t be boys.”
Lucy snorts, trying not to laugh.
It better not fucking be boys. I’m not ready for that.
Reaching out, I tug gently on a lock of her hair, forcing her to look at me. “You know I love you, right?”
“I know,” she rushes to assure me. She may be moody and have some bitter feelings toward me here and there, but my kid loves me. She’s such a softie—it would kill her to think I might be insecure about it.
“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “I might have done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying, Luce. I want things to be good between us again.”
Her eyes flare with shock. I’ve never come out and admitted my faults, because, well… let’s face it. I’d been far too immersed in my hockey life to realize I’d become a douche of a husband and father at times.
Not all the time, mind you. I will continue to give myself credit for the good things I did, but, in the end, it hadn’t been enough to keep Ella happy.
In the end, Lucy suffered some because of my focus on work instead of family.
Her eyes dart away as if she’s considering something, and I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to open up and pour out her feelings to me. I’m ready for it.
Ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she’s the love of my life.
Lucy’s gaze comes back to me, expression serious.
I brace.
“Can I get a puppy?” she asks candidly without a hint of hesitation in her request.
There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say.
I’m so caught off guard I can’t even think to immediately tell her “no,” which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why she should.
“I know you have allergies, Dad,” she says quickly, eyes sparkling, and I can tell she’s rehearsed this. “But they have medicine. And I’ve watched Samson, so I know how to take care of one.”
“Samson is an adult dog who is well trained,” I point out. We’ve dog sat for Kane’s fiancée’s dog on a couple occasions, once at my house and once at Ella’s. I figured this request might be coming. “Having a puppy is a lot more work than Samson.”
“Mom says it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you,” she presses. “Because I’d want my puppy to come with me whether I was staying there or here.”
I heave a sigh. “Lucy… puppies are a lot of work. You have to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up at all hours of the night.”
“I promise I’ll do all of that,” she exclaims. Her expression is so earnest that I believe her.
“Like how you were supposed to take care of your fish?” I can’t help but remind her. She forgot to feed him, and he died.
Lucy rolls her eyes. “I was seven. I’ve matured some, don’t you think?”
She has a point.
Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.
Buy her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to win my daughter over in such a cop-out way.
Still, I don’t discount it entirely.
“Tell you what,” I say as I reach out and take her hand in mine. “I promise to give it some really serious thought. And I’ll talk to your mom.”