Her nose wrinkles. “That’s a silly name for a clock.”
I laugh. “Maybe Abby can tell us the story behind that. Did I show you this photo?” I read her the caption. “‘Sitting on that bench in Notting Hill. Have you seen the movie?’”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s asking me if I’ve seen the movie that was shot there.” Abby set up a private Instagram so she could share her photos with me. I broke my social media ban and made a private account to respond to her posts. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really enjoying how we use it.
We talked a lot about it beforehand because she didn’t want to trigger my anxiety since she knew how I felt about Gemma’s social media, but this seemed like a fun way for her to share her trip with me.
“This is the Kingston Christmas Market she was excited to see.” I stare at Abby’s beautiful face. I feel like she’s smiling just for me. “And these are pics of her journal pages where she’s writing about her trip.”
That’s why I took her to the bookstore. I wanted to buy her some journals and pens to show her I support her trip and this great adventure. Her ex never supported anything she did, and I aim to be the exact opposite even if it takes me outside my comfort zone sometimes.
“Can I see more?”
I kiss the top of Hazel’s head. “Sorry, gingersnap. I need to go pick her up from the airport.”
“Why can’t I come?” She juts out her lower lip.
“Because we’ll be getting home late, but you can see her in the morning. She’s really looking forward to seeing you, though. I spoke to her a few nights ago, and she said she got you a little present.”
My daughter’s eyes light up. “I love presents!”
Sometime in the last few days, Hazel started saying her Rs correctly. I can’t wait to tell Abby. There’s so much I want to talk to her about.
I try to refresh my screen, but there are no new posts from yesterday, which unnerves me because Abby has been posting daily. She texted two days ago to say she was really tired and fighting a cold. She’s bummed she won’t make it to Jane Austen’s house, but that requires a train ride, and she doesn’t think her stomach can handle it.
She’s been fighting stomach issues ever since Hazel caught that bug just after Thanksgiving. I hope it’s just stress and nothing more serious.
The doorbell rings, and I let Cynthia in and kiss her cheek. “Thanks for watching Hazel tonight.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m so happy this is working out.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” When Gemma’s family stopped by last month, Cynthia and her husband told me they wanted to help out more, so they’re renting an Airbnb in Charming for the next month so I can focus on the playoffs. Part of the reason she was always upset when we spoke on video chat was because she missed us, and this will give her time to bond with Hazel.
I hug my daughter. “Be a good girl.”
“I’m always a good girl.” She looks at Cynthia. “Right, Grandma?”
“Right!” Cynthia laughs.
It’s a relief to have family looking after Hazel. This year, for the first time, the playoffs have expanded from four teams to twelve, so if we win our bowl game this week, we still have to play a semifinal round next week to determine who plays in the championship game at the end of January. It’s a hell of a lot of travel.
I grab the bouquet of roses out of the fridge, then the placards I wrote. As I’m making my way out the door, Cynthia calls my name. “I can’t wait to spend more time with your girlfriend. She seems like a sweetheart.”
Hazel nods. “We love her.”
I smile. That we do. “Thanks, Cynthia.” It means a lot to me that I have her blessing. Obviously, I’d date Abby without it, but knowing Cynthia and Charles support me no matter what has unburdened something inside me.
By the time I hit the road, I’m starting to worry because I haven’t heard from Abby. I figured she’d text when she changed planes in New York. A million worst-case scenarios filter through my head. But when I realize I’m being negative, I flip on the radio and try to change my thoughts. While I haven’t had a therapy session yet to deal with all of my personal baggage, I’ve been listening to podcasts on grief and anxiety, and it’s helping me get perspective.
When I reach the San Antonio airport, I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans and make my way to baggage claim. I check my phone again but don’t have a signal. That could be what prevented Abby from messaging me, I realize. I try to calm my ass down as I watch people retrieve their luggage.
Finally, travelers from Abby’s flight gather by the carousel.
My heart is in my throat as I watch people descend the escalator. I don’t know why I’m nervous. As I check the placards for the tenth time, I roll my eyes. Yeah, I’m doing something kinda goofy and romantic, but I just want to make Abby happy, and I think this will put a smile on her face.
When I spot her, I swear my heart stops. I can’t help the huge smile that spreads on my face. Abby’s so damn beautiful. She doesn’t see me yet, and I take her in. She looks like she’s lost weight. From the pics and video clips she posted, she went all over London.
