She hands it over. “It was under the seat. Must have come out of your pocket on our way to the beach.”
“Does that really work?” Sloan asks, stepping in closer and crinkling her nose as she watches me put on the cap and try to fix the hair sticking out from under it, using the window as a mirror. “Do people really not recognize you just because you put on a hat?”
I reach in my breast pocket and pull out my shades. “I wear these too.” I grin. “Turns out, I’m a pretty average looking dude.”
Kenley makes a funny sound, like she thinks I’ve just said something ridiculous, but she doesn’t voice it.
Meanwhile, Sloan is still studying the results of my disguise. “Hm. I’m not so sure,” she says, finger pointed and making circles at the general direction of my face. “I can still tell it’s you and I’m not even a fan of your music.”
“Ouch.”
She laughs. “Sorry, I just meant, you know...” she tries to explain.
“That I’m old and my music isn’t cool. Yeah, I know what you meant,” I tease her back.
“No!” But she’s laughing too hard now to be believable.
“Come on. Let’s get that ice cream before I act my age and suggest we get you some breakfast instead.” I usher her away from the truck and down the sidewalk leading to the front doors.
Sloan doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s quick to skip ahead, still giggling as she goes.
I shake my head, chuckling to myself when I feel Kenley slide her palm into mine, and turn toward her.
“Thank you,” she mouths the words.
I nod. I can’t even say ‘you’re welcome’ because that would make what I did special or extra or out of the ordinary, and it wasn’t. From here on out, it’s what I want her to expect. What I want her to know as normal.
Her gaze moves from mine to look forward. Sloan’s just a few steps ahead, but she keeps turning back to check on us too. It’s crazy how much she looks like her mama, and I can’t help but smile, taking in the sight of them both.
As soon as we’re inside, Sloan slows her steps and stays closer to us. It’s a fucking mad house in here.
“I’m going to call you ‘Dad’,” Sloan whispers. “That way even if people do think you look like you, they’ll think you can’t be because you don’t have a kid.” She grins, like she just came up with a foolproof disguise, certainly one superior to my hat and sunglasses. It is kind of brilliant.
“Sounds like a plan.” I try to look at Kenley without making it obvious. The last thing I want is for her to have second thoughts about removing the boundaries she keeps around her kid andletting me in. But she doesn’t seem bothered by our little scheme to hide my identity at all.
“You going to call me your husband?” I tease under my breath.
“Not for ice cream,” she deadpans. “A ring, a real proposal, and some vows...maybe.”
“Oh, yeah?” I can feel my whole face light up at the thought.
She just shakes her head and laughs. “Let’s just go with the ice cream for now.”
“Okay,” I agree, letting her lead me down the freezer aisle. “For now.”
“Dad!” Sloan calls out, louder than ordinarily necessary. “Can I get two?”
“No.” I know it’s all pretend. I know it is. Butgoddamn, I already feel like it’s real.
“Can we get a bottle of fudge?” she tries again, and I look to Kenley to make the call. Seeing as she’s the only true parent here.
“Will my answer affect your ice cream choice?” she asks, clearly having the insight required for this conversation which I stupidly thought was just about consuming as much sugar as possible.
“Yes.” Sloan steps back from the freezers far enough to point into two separate sections. “If we’re getting fudge, I want cookies and cream. But if not, then I’m getting the lemon sorbet.”
“We can get fudge,” her mom concedes, and Sloan literally does a little happy dance. Watching her, I almost forget the events that led us here this morning.
Kenley must have a similar reaction, because she suddenly looks as if she’s been drained of her life force, her shoulders go limp, her knees lock and her face tightens as if she’s fighting back feelings she knows all too well because she’s fought them off a million times before.
