Page 67 of Room for Us
I’m panicking about introducing Daphne to Zoey, who made me swear to treat her like nothing more than the proprietor of the inn where I’m staying. Someone I feel nothing for, or at the most, platonic feelings. Exactly the opposite of what I do feel. Of what I felt last night when she came all over my face, when she rode me in the dark, her breasts bouncing over my face, and fell asleep after with her nose nestled beneath my ear.
I must make a noise, because Zoey says, “Oh my God, are you nervous? You can’t be nervous, because then I’ll be more nervous!”
“I’m good,” I lie, plastering on a smile. “Just excited to see the kid. I’ve never been away from her this long.”
She sees right through me. “Get your shit together, Hart!”
Just like that, I laugh and forget why I was freaking out in the first place.
I forget even when the car pulls into the driveway and stops a few feet from us. We stand up as the back door opens and Daphne comes barreling out, straight into my hug. Her skinny arms around my neck, her strawberry scented hair in my face, I forget everything but how happy I am to see her, to be here and nowhere else.
I forget it all, until I hear a voice...
“Nice to meet you, Zoey! I’m Britt, Ethan’s girlfriend.”
… and I look past my daughter’s shoulder at the woman standing by the car. Britt smiles brightly as she shakes Zoey’s hand. She’s wearing high heels and a pencil skirt, a stark opposition to Zoey’s jeans and casual blouse.
Britt is a peacock at a picnic—exotic and absurd—and I blink, hard, hoping she disappears.
“Surprise!” she says instead, sweeping toward me just as Daphne moves back. She slips into the space left by my daughter and without another word, kisses me. My reaction time slowed by shock, I barely manage to turn my head. Her lips, sticky with gloss, find the corner of my mouth.
Near the trunk of the car, Zoey pauses while unloading luggage. Staring at us. At me. Her face frozen. Eyes blank. Then Daphne’s beside her, chatting a mile a minute while helping her remove luggage. The tableau shifts. Zoey unfreezes, tentative smile becoming genuine.
I step back fast from Britt.
“What are you doing here?” I ask stiffly.
My ex-girlfriend’s smile falters, then brightens again. “Let’s talk inside.”
“Come on, Dad!” yells Daphne. “A little help?”
“Later,” I tell Britt and rush to grab the rest of their bags.
I don’t find out what the hell is happening until I’m alone with Daphne in the Lilac room, which she chose because of the wallpaper. Purple, her favorite color. Naturally, she’s offended when I ask why Britt is with her if we’re not together anymore.
“You didn’t tell me! How was I supposed to know?” She plops onto the bed with a sigh of exasperation. “It’s not like I’m stoked she’s here or anything. This was supposed to be our weekend.”
“So what happened, then?”
She inspects her fingernails, painted a glittery blue. “I guess she called Mom and they had a long talk or whatever. No one explains anything to me, Dad. All I know is that when it was time to leave for the airport, Britt was there.”
My mind races. Janice regularly blasts me with her unfiltered opinions on my love life, but she’s never overstepped like this.
“I thought your mom didn’t like Britt,” I say, so confused I can feel the beginnings of a tension headache.
Daphne shrugs. “I don’t know, okay? Hey, are we riding horses today? Getting up at four in the morning was bruuutal. I want to sleep for a bit.”
“Sure, kiddo,” I say absently. “We’re riding tomorrow, anyway.”
She mumbles a response, already shimmying up toward the pillows. I grab the afghan from the foot of the bed and tuck it around her.
“Sleep tight.”
She’s already out. Same as when she was little—zero to sixty and back again. I can’t count the number of times she’s fallen asleep mid-sentence.
Despite the mess of Britt’s arrival, I smile at the sight of my daughter’s face in repose. And this time, when I think about how much she reminds me of Charlotte—in looks and temperament—it doesn’t hurt like it used to. The opposite, actually. It brings me comfort.
As for Britt, I’ll send her home. Pay for her flight, whatever I have to do. And then everything will be as it should be.
