Chapter 5

five

brYCE

When I wake up this morning, Jolie is still asleep, so I run on my Peloton, do pull-ups, sit ups, and lift weights. After a quick shower, I check her room, and she’s gone. My heart rate picks up as I yell her name. No answer. I yell again, “Jolie,” as I run down the steps and find her in the kitchen, standing on a chair with one knee on the counter, reaching for the cabinet door.

“Jolie!” She startles, leaning backwards, tipping the chair, and I catch her in my arms before she hits the ground. I don’t realize how tight I’m squeezing her until she lets out a gasp.

Loosening my grip, I kiss the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She squirms out of my arms. Fuck, I don’t know how to do this. How fast to go? How much to push her to talk to me or even look me in the eyes.

As I make her a bowl of cereal, I pour myself one too. “Let’s eat on the couch. ”

Jolie sits on the opposite end, and the only sound is the occasional crunch of her cereal. Why does my house seem quieter than it was before Jolie moved in? It was only me, and now there’s two, but she barely makes a peep. She watches movies on her tablet with her yellow earphones that have bright blue eyes over each ear. They freak me out. Eyes don’t belong on the side of your head.

Buy her princess headphones because these are frightening.

Jolie still hasn’t spoken, but she did lean against my leg a couple of days ago at the arena. Then, when I tucked her into bed, I bent to kiss her cheek, her eyes widened, and she turned over quickly. I was only doing what I thought I should as her dad. Instead, I arranged the covers and said, “Good night.”

Since it’s afternoon in Europe, I call Francesca. Jolie should perk up if she can talk with her mom, but it goes straight to voicemail after one ring.

“I need to talk to you about Jolie. She hasn’t said a word since you dropped her off. Has she always been this quiet? Has she been to the doctor? What kind of school has she been in? Has she been to school or daycare? Does she play with other children? Was she close to Lukas? I mean she thought he was her dad, and you just ripped her away from him. I don’t understand. Just call me, I need to know what to tell her if she asks why I’m her daddy all of a sudden. You said you told her that I was her real dad… but does a five-year-old even understand that? Why would you leave this little girl with me? You’re her mother. Just fucking call me.”

I pace around the bottom floor and flip my phone onto the couch, getting angrier by the second. Staring out at the Atlanta skyline, I sip my coffee, and all I can think about was my own father—how I hadn’t talked to him for years. How am I supposed to be a good father when my own father could care less about me? The feeling is mutual.

Reed calls, wanting me to bring Jolie over today for lunch. Atlanta is still warm in October so they’re renting a bouncy house for the kids.

What the hell is a bouncy house?

I smile as I hang up. He’s always on my side, not just as my left winger, but he throws me a lifeline as a friend. Plus, I think he’s happy I have a child. Maybe we’ll get more time to spend hanging out.

Tapping her leg, she peers up at me. “We’re going to a friend’s house so you can play with other kids. They’re going to have a bouncy house. Do you know what that is?”

She gives me a miniscule nod.

“Can you show me? Because I have no idea.” I let out a light laugh because they say you learn something new every day.

She minimizes the movie, handing me the tablet. I type “bouncy house” into the browser, and hundreds of images fill the screen of colorful outdoor inflatables that you can jump in or slide down. It’s weird that I don’t know what all I don’t know.

“Ahh. Those are pretty cool.” I sit beside her and study them for a few seconds. “You need a bath, so turn off the movie.”

She pulls it to her chest, squeezing it, and lets out a piercing scream. It’s so loud and shrill, it causes me to jump up.

What the hell?

“Jolie, you’re going upstairs and taking a bath. Then we’re going to have fun. ”

My beautiful girl’s face transforms. Her chin raises, nose scrunches, beady eyes, and her lips get smaller. She’s used to getting her way. Well, not in this house. Jolie needs to learn that I’m not bowing down to her.

“Get up.”

Her head flails from side to side, emphatic she’s not turning off her movie or taking a bath.

“On the count of three, you need to turn the movie off, or I’ll take it from you. One. Two. Three.”

Why did I think she would listen? She doesn’t know me.

“Okay, I’m taking it.” I easily pull it from her death grip even though she’s strong for a little girl.

More screams as I put it on the fireplace mantel where she can’t reach. As I pick her up, her legs kick furiously, and her foot hits me in the balls. It knocks the wind out of me, and I double over in pain, but somehow keep her tight against my chest.

“Fuck.”

She turns her head away from me, but her body is like mine, tense. I stand up straight and climb the stairs. Her legs kick even harder as we enter the bathroom. Turning the knobs, I warm the water and pull the switch to fill up the tub.

When I place her feet on the floor, I say, “Take your nightgown off.”

She crosses her arms, getting more defiant, refusing to undress, so I do what I think a parent should do. I unfold her arms against her will and remove her pajamas and underwear. Jolie continues to resist but when I finally place her in the water and splash the warm water over her shoulders, her will fades .

Her legs relax, and she begins to splash around, forgetting why she was upset. Looking up at me with her innocent eyes, she gives me a hint of a smile. My heart squeezes from the tiniest gesture. How is it possible to love someone instantly? But I knew as soon as Francesca showed me her picture.

I don’t have a handheld shower head in this bathroom to wet her hair, so I run downstairs and get a plastic bowl. By the time I get back up, the floor is puddled with water. A growl escapes my chest, but Jolie is unfazed by my displeasure as she continues to splash around, having fun.

As I submerge the bowl, she hits it, flipping the bottom and soaking my t-shirt.

Another growl.

After filling the bowl, she lets me wet her hair, and I pour the watermelon-smelling shampoo into my hands and lather it through her hair. She takes the plastic bowl, fills it with the soapy water, and dumps it on her head. In the process, she hits me in the face.

Another growl.

“Jolie, we have to use clean water to rinse your hair.” I make a mental note to get a sprayer attachment for this bathroom to make it easier. As I turn the water back on, she sticks her foot in the stream, redirecting the water, and she laughs. She laughs. The sound is pure like when you scream in the mountains, and it echoes back.

I rinse her hair and then grab the pink fluffy towel hanging on the hook behind the door, reminding me to lower it to her height.

When we’re done towel drying her hair, I say, “Do you know where you put your underwear? ”

One blink.

Opening the bottom drawer, I show her. She picks out a blue pair and slides them over her legs. I look through her clothes again, and I can only find dresses, so I pull out two and hold them up. “Which one?”

She doesn’t respond so I ease the green knit polo style one over her head. Tendrils of white gold hang to her shoulders, and she looks like a child model from J Crew or Lacoste.

Two hours have passed when we get in one of my five vehicles. My driver picked up a car seat, and I couldn’t figure out how to get it secured. I sit her in the backseat with the regular seatbelt and go twenty-five miles an hour, taking as many side streets as possible.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I pull up to Reed’s gated community. His house sits on ten acres, and when I ease into the driveway, I see the inflatables in the backyard.

She walks beside me to the backyard. Reed is manning the grill in a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?” he asks, briefly looking at the little girl wrapped around my leg.

Brooke saves the day, “Jolie. I’m Brooke. Do you like babies? This is Christina.” She bends down, letting Jolie get up close to her. Out of nowhere, Cannon comes blazing and hiding behind Brooke, Christina, and Jolie.

Caleb yells, “No fair. You can’t hide behind Mom and Sissy. You know the rules.”

“Rules were made to be broken,” Cannon shouts back, then he grabs Jolie’s hand, jerking her with him. I almost say something, but Cannon shouts, “Let’s go. He can’t catch both of us. ”

Jolie doesn’t scream or say anything; she just runs away with Cannon. Caleb, who is about seven years older, takes a step toward them and Reed holds the hem of his shirt. “Caleb, let’s give them a head start.”

“You never let me win.”

“They’re not winning, but Jolie needs to make a friend, so give them a minute. I’m not saying you can’t find them. You know Cannon will hide in plain sight. When you find them, ask them to go down the inflatable slide with you.”

Caleb huffs but strides out into the field where there’s a combination football, soccer field, a barn, tennis courts, and a large play structure.

When the kids are out of earshot, Brooke says, “Jolie is so cute. You can definitely tell she’s yours.”

I nod as Reed pops the top on a beer and hands it to me.

“Thanks. I just wish she would talk to me. Not one word since her mom dropped her off, and Francesca won’t answer her phone. I have no idea what to do. Actually, I have a list a mile long and no idea where to start,” I say, handing my phone to Brooke to show her my list.

Attachment for Bathroom sprayer

Princess headphones

Clothes

Babysitter

School

Daycare

Shoes

Lower the hook on the bathroom door.

Move the cereal to the bottom cabinets .

“And that’s just what I’ve thought of today.”

Brooke says, “Don’t move the cereal, or that’s all she’ll eat.”

Reed peeks over her shoulder and asks, “A bathroom sprayer? You’re asking for trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll try to get it down by herself and either hurt herself, or she’ll spray your whole bathroom with water.” He chuckles. “Let’s just say I thought the same thing. Buy it, and they can be self-sufficient, but believe me, Caleb is twelve, and I barely trust him with one. They’re kids and curious, so it’s best to keep temptation away. Maybe when she’s ten, and you no longer have to help her bathe.”

Brooke replies, “I can help you with schools since I just had to research it all for our kids. I’ll be right back.”

She comes back out with her phone and shares the contact for Cannon and Colby’s school, Admire Academy, and shows me pictures.

Brooke rocks the baby while reaching for my hand. “Admire takes a page from the Montessori curriculum, letting the kids be kids all while teaching them how to contribute to their family. But these other two were great also. They’re among the top ten in the state. One is a private school and the other two are public magnet schools.”

“I don’t even know what Montessori or magnet school means.”

“Tomorrow, bring Jolie here while you visit schools and go to practice. I’ll keep Cannon and Colby home so they can play together. I have to pick them up early anyway for an appointment,” Brooke offers .

Reed gets up and lays one hand on my shoulder. “Great idea. They seem to be having a good time.”

I look out, and Cannon is holding her hand as they slide down the long inflatable slide.

“Does Carly wear dresses all the time?”

Reed spews his beer. “That’s a big fat no. She has two or three, and she throws a fit every time we make her wear one.”

“Good to know it’s not just me.” I explain how Jolie’s mother dropped her off with a suitcase full of dresses. No shorts, pants, t-shirts. Just dresses and nightgowns.

Brooke furls her lip to one side. “Weird. Maybe Jolie only wants to wear dresses.” She twists her lips and then strums her fingers against her cheek. “But in exchange for me babysitting and helping you as much as I can, you’re signing up for my dating app.”

“Dating. I have a brand-new kid. When am I going to have time to use a dating app?”

Reed grins from ear to ear, knowing I’m not going to win this one.

Brooke pulls up the app on her phone. “It’s easy. Be as specific as you want. It will give you less matches, but you’ll only be paired with people with your requirements. And don’t put 36-24-26 and five-foot-seven in the description. Reed went out with plenty of girls like that and yet, here he is.”

“Damn right. Can you imagine a guy filling out a list of wants and saying I want a girl who reads romance, wears clothes that hide her body, preferably my coach’s daughter, and has a son? No but all those things were perfect for me.” Reed bends over giving his wife a chaste kiss .

“Fine, but I’ll make it, so I don’t have a match.”

Brooke hints at a laugh. “It will be a good test of our app.”

I focus my attention on the app and the second section asks what I want in a match. And all I can think of is the redhead from all those years ago. Plus, that will narrow down the results.

Confident

Red Hair

Curvy

Loves to dance.

Loves to experiment.

Wants a ready-made family

Wants to live in an old, small house

There can’t be a woman in Atlanta like this.