Fuck.
“Daddy!” Hazel howls from down the hallway, and I scramble out of bed. Where are my pajama bottoms?
I barely get them tugged on when the door flies open and hits the wall. Jesus. “Hazel, what’s wrong?” Her eyes are bloodshot, and there’s vomit down the front of her shirt. Shit. Her bottom lip juts out and quivers before tears spill down her chubby cheeks. “Aww, honey, come here.”
Kneeling, I open my arms and she runs to me, sobbing. I hold her head to my chest as I check out the bed situation. Wide-eyed, Abby’s clutching the blankets to her chest. She mouths, “Sorry.”
Frustrated, I nod. It’s not her fault I didn’t wanna leave her bed last night. “Come on, Hazel. Let’s clean you up.”
I pick her up and whisk her out before she asks any questions. At some point, I’ll need to have a conversation about me and Abby, but I’m not quite ready to do that with my four-year-old. I’d like to ask her how she feels about me having a girlfriend long before we discuss the birds and the bees.
Assuming Abby wants to return to Charming when she gets back from Europe.
My gut sinks just thinking about it.
Her trip is around the corner. I’m a fucking idiot for not asking her about her plans sooner. I don’t know why I’ve had my head up my ass all semester. Hopefully, we can talk after I get my daughter cleaned up.
That takes a while because she threw up all over her bed, on the floor, and in the hallway.
How much food can one little girl vomit?
After I bathe Hazel and dress her, I set her up in the living room with some cartoons and ginger ale while I clean up the puke in my bedroom. Abby must’ve cleaned up the hallway. I stick my head in her room to thank her, but she’s on the phone, so I take a quick shower because I reek like sex and puke.
When I’m done, I throw on some jeans and jog out to the living room to check on Hazel. “How’s your tummy? Any better?”
She nods. “Can I have some toast?”
“Yeah.” That’s a good sign.
Abby wanders out in some duckie print pajamas. “Is she okay?”
“Better.”
She presses a hand to her stomach. “I was feeling sick yesterday too, but I figured it was the junk food at the stadium. I hope I didn’t give her a stomach virus.”
“She’s probably fine now that she’s thrown up.”
Abby lowers her voice to a whisper. “Did she see anything? In my bedroom?”
“I don’t think so.” Thank God. “That was a close call. I can’t believe I forgot to lock your door last night. I just need to get my ass up out of bed sooner.” Abby looks like she wants to say something, but the doorbell rings. “You expecting someone?”
“No.”
I hand my daughter her breakfast before I open the door.
“Nick!” Gemma’s mom Cynthia holds open her arms while I stand there, frozen. “It’s so good to see you.” Behind her are Gemma’s father Charles and sister Monica, who looks so much like Gemma, it’s jarring.
When Cynthia realizes I’m not wearing a shirt or expecting company, she looks away. “We’re so sorry for dropping by like this, but when I couldn’t get you on the phone, I wanted to check up on you and Hazel. We were down in Austin visiting one of my cousins over Thanksgiving, so we decided to stop by here on the way home.”
“It’s good to see you.” It is. It just always rips out my heart. “Come in.” I hug the women and shake Charles’s hand as they enter.
When Cynthia sees Hazel, she rushes to her and immediately starts crying. “Baby, it’s Grandma.”
Guilt immediately chokes me for not staying in touch better this fall. “She’s been sick this morning, so you might not want to get too close.”
“Nonsense,” she says as she sits next to my daughter and hugs her.
“Hi, Gwandma,” Hazel says.
