Kai
“Dad, why do you keep looking at your phone?”
Startled out of my thoughts by Amari’s question, I glance over at her as she colors.
“I’m not,” I say, a little embarrassed that my daughter saw how many times I picked up the phone and put it down. Blakely’s text message from last night replays in my head.
Beautiful: Have a good night. Happy birthday.
I hate to admit it, but I always reread our text messages. Eventually, I won’t have to reread them to feel closer to her, because she’ll be in my arms. I know it sounds pathetic, but I can’t move on. I’ve been holding onto hope that one day I’ll be the man she wants. I tried moving on, going on dates, andmeeting new people. But with every date I went on, something never felt right. Until I stopped forcing myself to move on and realized it’s Blakely I want. It’s always been her. She saw something in me that no one else saw. And now, all I want is for her to see the man I’ve become. The man she knew I always could be.
I just need to get rid of that one problem that is standing in our way. I told Blakely when we first found out that we were pregnant that I wanted to give her the life that she deserves. A big house that she can come home to and raise our children in. I don’t want her to worry about anything. If she chooses to be a stay-at-home mom, I’ll support that. If she chooses to have five more kids—or none—I’ll support that, too. Iwantto support and provide for her.
And that means I need to win her back.
"Yes, you are. You pour the pancake mix onto the pan and then lift your phone up and stare at it. Then, you set it back down once the pancake is done. Then,—”
"Okay, miss smarty pants. I get it.” I set my phone down and flip the pancake over. Since Amari spent a lot of time at her grandma’s house during her early years, she’s used to her grandma making pancakes every Sunday. She now requests them every Sunday, regardless of where she’s at.
“Is itbeautifulyou’re talking to?”
“Maybe.” Blakely is still saved in my phone asbeautiful. It’s been like that since the day she gave me her number. I remember it so vividly. It was the first night I asked her to sneak out with me. I wanted to spend more time with her. It wasn’t the best decision to ask her to sneak out, but it’s one I don’t regret. I was young and selfish and only thought about what I wanted. To my surprise, she agreed to sneak out, and we continued to sneak out until…
Well, until we had Amari.
“Have you kept our little secret from your mom?”
“Yes,” she says, grabbing another crayon from her enormous pack of ninety-six crayons.
When Amari was old enough to use my phone and read the names saved to numbers, she asked why her mom’s name was in there asbeautiful. I told her the story of when I first put her name and number in my phone. She was very young, and I don’t think she comprehended anything from it. After I told her about my history with her mom, I put my finger to my lips to indicate it would be our secret. At the time, I didn’t want Blakely to know. I was never sure if Amari had told her or not.
“Okay. Here are your pancakes.” I set the plate of stacked pancakes on the table.
I watch as she sets up her plate. She takes a pancake and places strawberries and bananas on top. Then, she grabs the syrup, drizzles it all around, and drops spoonfuls of whipped cream on top—just like her mother did when she was young. I’ve seen her do it to this day, too.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask her.
“Let’s go to the aquarium,” she says, her mouth full.
“Again?”
She nods while taking another bite of her pancake.
We go to the aquarium at least once every few months.
She nods again with her eyes wide. “They might have new fish.”
Chatter and laughterfill my ears as we walk into the aquarium. The first time Amari came to the aquarium, shewasn’t even one year old yet. I had taken her and Blakely here for a day date. It was something I did to win her over again. More like again and again. I knew she needed me to be more present as a family, and this was an idea I had. But I didn’t think Amari was old enough to remember. She says she doesn’t remember, but she always wants to come here. Deep down, I think she remembers.
“Where’s mom?” she asks as we walk over to the butterfly exhibit. This is Amari’s favorite part.
“She should be here soon.” Once I decided to appease Amari, I asked B if she wanted to join us. We’ve always tried to do things as a family. Since the time that we split, we’ve always made sure we coparent together in the best possible way for Amari. The way we were both raised without our dads has everything to do with it. She didn’t want that for her daughter. She’s never come right out and said it about me being raised without a dad, but I know it’s part of the reason, too. Even when I was fucking up. She was always there, trying to get us to spend time together. Back then, I thought she did this because she didn’t trust me alone with our daughter and, of course, I would start an argument about it. That girl has always been so patient with me. That’s why I know I need to get her back and give her what she deserves.
“Hi.”
I look over my shoulder and see B standing there with her short, dark brown hair that she wanted to cut to give herself a change. I wish she kept it long to match Amari. Amari has the same dark brown hair. We’ve only ever given Amari trims since she was born, so her hair runs down to the middle of her back. I love how those two would always match. Amari is her mother’s little twin. Everything that B wanted. A little version of her.
“Hey,” I say as I turn around. I stop dead in my tracks as I see who’s behind her. It’s him.Dr. Davis. Mr. Fucking Surgeon, I say sarcastically in my head. Of course she would bring him.I don’t know why I thought differently. I reach in for a hug and squeeze her a little tighter as both my cheeks rise at Liam behind her. After our hug, I raise my hand up to Liam. “Hi,” I say monotone.
