Nola toyed with the straw in her soda cup after their lunch at the park. “I guess if I mention you should sit down and rest that would fall on deaf ears.”
“Pretty much.”
“Your daughter isn’t going to love you less if you limp a little.”
“Let’s not go there again, Nola.” He thumped ahead with his crutches, sidestepping a spilled box of popcorn. “The weekend dad gig leaves me cramming a lot into a short time.”
“I’m not a parent at all. After putting my foot in my mouth yesterday, I’ve vowed to mind my own business.”
Now she decided on silence after the top had already been blown off his world and he could actually use some extra input?
“You mentioned wanting kids.” He watched for her reaction, for her consent to continue. When a passing family caused he and Nola to pause, he skimmed a kiss over the top of her head for reassurance before continuing. “I assume you meant with your ex-husband? Or is that too personal a question?”
“I guess you and I stopped respecting each other’s boundaries a long time ago.” She stirred her straw through the ice, reminding him too vividly of how seductively she’d drawn on her milk shake.
“Pretty damn much. Why not go ahead and go for broke?”
“Yes, I wanted children.” Her eyes lingered on a mother ahead pushing a stroller while a toddler raced alongside with a balloon. “He kept putting it off. The timing wasn’t right and so on. Thank God, though. We didn’t need to have kids together with the way things ended up between us.” She jerked to look at him. “No offense meant to you and your ex.”
“None taken. It certainly would have been easier if we could have stayed together.” He gestured for his daughter to hold up while he stopped at a duck-shoot booth.
Lauren—still sulking and “torturing” him with the silent treatment—leaned against the corner, feigning disinterest. He wondered what Nola thought of his child and wished he could play home videos of his daughter giggling as she chased bubbles. Smiling as she shared flowers. She’d been such a happy, generous kid once upon a time… Now, she seemed determined to ignore Nola.
Was this how she treated Lindsay’s Ben, who Lauren labeled a “dweeb”? If she behaved this way, it was no wonder they didn’t get along.
Rick leaned on his elbows, took the toy gun and began popping the tin ducks.
Nola chewed her bottom lip. “There were, uh, other issues with Peter and me…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” But he hoped she would keep talking anyhow since he found himself drawn to her no matter how much he tried to keep those boundaries shored up. He focused on the worn yellow waterfowl that had seen better days and downed the next, smaller row.
“I look at your beautiful daughter and I…”
He glanced over from his toy gun. “Think ‘what if.’”
She nodded, her blues eyes turning paler with the sheen of tears. She flung the drink into a nearby bin with extra force.
He only wanted to reopen a dialogue he’d probably been too quick to shut down yesterday. Somehow he’d gotten sidetracked and hurt her, the last thing he ever wanted to do. Time to detour them again.
Rick cashed in tokens for two medium-sized stuffed monkeys, one pink, one purple. He turned to the two women. “Ladies, pick your prize.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “How lame.”
He noticed her eyes lingered on the purple, so he passed the pink to Nola and searched for a distraction from the awkward moment caused by his currently bratty daughter.
Dead ahead waited the perfect distraction.
Rick tossed the purple monkey to Lauren and jerked his head toward the bullet drop. “Come on.”
He gathered his crutches from where they leaned against the booth.
“What?” Nola cradled her monkey like a baby.
“If I don’t catapult my body out of something soon I’m going to go freaking nuts.” An understatement if ever he’d heard one.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sensation until he looked at that ride, something so damn pathetic in comparison to what he used to do on the job. And here he stood, shaking on the crutches in anticipation of climbing onto a kid’s carnival attraction. Talk about a revelation. He hadn’t left his past behind at all. He’d merely buried it under a mountain of determination to get through one day at a time.
Pausing on his crutches, he pivoted to his daughter, “Lauren, come on. The bullet.”