Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)
“It’s okay, Belle,” Kenny assures her. “You can share Girlie.”
I leash Girlie and exit the dog park with Kenny and Belle in tow. Madden stays as far away from the canine as he can. As we make it to my Jeep to get Belle’s seat, Girlie comes up close to Madden’s backside, her snout pressing again
st the seam of his pants. He yelps loudly and clenches his ass cheeks together, swatting at sweet Girlie. “Jo, I’m warnin’ you. Keep that damn dog away from my ass!”
“Okay, okay! Sheeesh! What crawled up your butt?”
He narrows his eyes at me, looking quite disturbed. “Get your mutt in the Jeep, and then we’ll talk, okay, darlin’?”
I don’t appreciate Madden’s tone right now, but instead of arguing in front of the kids, I put Girlie in the back of the Jeep then snap Ken-man in his car seat. I check the back seat to make sure Belle hasn’t left any of her belongings and turn back to find Madden leaned against his truck with his arms crossed over his chest.
I hand him Belle’s treasures from the pumpkin patch yesterday, and his eyes finally soften as he links his fingers through mine. His thumb strokes back and forth over my flesh as he says, “You good, Jo?”
I snatch my hand away, not liking the electricity that zings through me at his touch. “Yeah, I’m good,” I mutter to him. “You good, Mad?”
“Right as rain, darlin’.”
I don’t understand this energy that’s passing between us, but I push it away and focus.
“The kids had the best time yesterday. Thank you for letting me steal my new BFF for the day.” I smile and wink at him.
“BFF, huh?” he asks, chuckling. His demeanor seems to shift quickly.
“Yeah,” I tell him, “I’m going to need to steal her again next Saturday too.”
“That so?” He laughs, so I know he has no clue where I’m going with this. I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face.
“That’s so,” I tell him. “We have a tea party to crash.”
His smile fades, and I know the next words out of his mouth are going to be a protest. I handle it in true Jordan fashion, balls to the wall. I throw my hand up. “Stop. I know you’re gonna tell me that I don’t have to do that, it’s not my place, you will handle it … yada, yada, yada.” He smiles and shakes his head, so I continue like the train wreck I can be. “I’m taking my new BFF to have tea with all those snooty mommies and little girls, and we are going to crash that party and make it our bitch.”
“Well,” he drawls, “who can argue with that?”
Stunned that he didn’t argue with me, I turn to get in the Jeep. His hand wraps around my elbow, bringing me back to face him. In an instant he has pulled me into a tight hug. And, yeah, he just finished his run and may be a little sweaty, but I don’t care; I hug him back. I feel like he needs this. The way he buries his head in the crease of my neck and shoulder and breathes me in nearly brings me to my knees. He pulls back slowly and whispers in my ear, “Thank you, Jo.”
“No, Madden, thank you for sharing your little girl; she is the absolute best.” I smile and try to clear the emotion from my voice. I turn to get in the Jeep then look back at Madden because I hate leaving him in this somber mood. I holler out to him, “Hey, Mad!”
He turns and raises his eyebrow in question.
“Sorry the puppy scared you. I didn’t know you’re allergic to dogs.”
“It’s okay, darlin.” He smirks. “I’m more of a cat person myself.” He winks. He climbs into the cab of his truck and leaves me standing there, blush all over my body and tingles I should not be feeling with my five-year-old nephew in the vicinity. Well played, shithead, well played.
*~*
Pepto threw up in here. There’s no other way to describe it other than to say someone literally regurgitated pink Pepto everywhere. Never in my life have I seen so much pink. Laney has really outdone herself. I feel like we’ve stepped straight onto the plantation, and Scarlett O’Hara will walk around the corner at any moment. I knew it would be a little over the top, but this goes beyond my expectations. I have no clue where Lan came up with all of this, or better yet why the sudden need to host such a grand event, but that is a discussion for another day.
Belle’s little hand is tucked tightly into mine as we make our way into the party, stopping first to sign the guest book where we retrieve our name tags and pose for a picture against the backdrop designed especially for this occasion; which is pink, of course. I wanted to really make today special for Belle, so it was only right that I buy us matching dresses. I was prepared. I knew what the girls and their mostly over-the-top mothers would be dressed like, and I wanted to make sure that Belle felt just as special even though I am not her mom. The yellow eyelet dresses with floral print from Lilly Pulitzer and white shoes, wedges for me, flats for Belle, contrast perfectly with the pink background and daisy flowers.
We make our way out to the courtyard. It normally serves as part of the playground but has been transformed with white tables and chairs covered with pink cloth and ribbon. Glass centerpiece vases adorn the middle of each table filled with daisies along with pink and white roses. It looks really elegant and uppity. I smile, knowing that at least half of those vases will not survive the fifteen toddler-dressed princesses running around here today. Normally functions like this make me feel like the odd one out, but I refuse to sink away today. With my head held high and confidence in each step, Belle and I make our way over to claim seats. The side-eyes and wayward glances we receive are not lost on me. I can only imagine what words are behind the whispers. Probably something along the lines of, ‘bless her heart’ meaning, look at that poor little girl who has no mom, referring to Belle. Or ‘bless her heart’, wonder why she can’t settle down and have a child of her own instead of taking someone else’s, referring to me. Southern women are fierce, strong-willed, intelligent, polite and respectful, but with that being said, don’t ever try to out gossip a Southern woman—you will lose every time. Facts.
“Ms. Laney!” Belle greets with a hug as Laney makes her way over to us. A look of sympathy adorns Laney’s face as she eyes both Belle and I up and down. I haven’t gotten to speak to her much about the tea party, but from the look on her face, I don’t think she and Madden left things on good terms. After embracing Belle in a swaying squeeze, Laney gives me her signature side hug and says, “You two are too cute, looking all matchy-matchy.”
“Her made me wear it,” Belle says, thumb stuck out and pointing at me. “And her made me fix my hair too.” She stomps the white flat against the ground, her arms crossed over her chest. The exasperation in her voice is hilarious.
“You look really pretty, Belle, and so does Healthy Lady,” Laney says with a wink.
“That’s not hers name,” she protests. “Grammy says I have to be respectful, whatever that is, and call her Miss Jordan. But that’s lots of words, so I decided JoJo is much better.” There she is, the sassy five-year-old is back.