Page 24 of A Game Plan for Love

I’m going to wash it, then hide it on the top shelf of my closet until she forgets she owns it.

“Do I look pretty?”

She twirls, pink tulle whirling, and nearly knocks her smoothie out of my hand. I fumble to keep it balanced in my grip with our bags.

“You look gorgeous, but we need to go or I’ll be late for work.”

Nora quickly kisses each of her stuffed animals goodbye, and I rush her into the car. There’s no one more in this world I love than my daughter, but she’s testing my patience this morning. She hops into the booster seat, feet kicking as I buckle her in.

There’s approximately thirty seconds of blissful silence before Nora starts her onslaught of questions.

“Can we check the mail today? When will my tooth fall out? Can I get another sticker book?”

I volley her questions with answers—or deflections when she asks for Pizza Rolls for dinner—the entire drive to summer camp.

“Your package should be here at the end of the week.”

If I had known ordering her bulk stickers would have led to her checking the mail every day, I would never have told her how the post system works. I told myself I would always answer Nora’s questions, even if it was an uncomfortable or difficult topic, because knowledge is power and I never want Nora stuck in a position where she doesn’t understand and it hurts her.

The choice has led to many weird conversations in public when she’s curious. Imagine explaining to a five-year-old about viagra because a couple decided to have an epic fight in the cracker aisle of the grocery store.

“What country is it coming from?”

Uh…the Amazon warehouse?

“I don’t know,” I dodge, “We’ll have to wait until it arrives to find out.”

She groans, unhappy with my lack of knowledge, but quickly changes her tune when Pink Pony Club shuffles on. “Up. Up. Up!” she demands, not satisfied until the speakers are ready to burst.

We pull up to GameChangers, a sports and childcare program, right as the song ends, and it’s like the universe is sayingToday is your day. Go get ‘em, girl,because now we don’t have to awkwardly linger in the drop-off line until the song ends.

Sawyer, Henry’s wife and an employee at the non-profit, appears at the driver’s side window, waving and smiling brightly.

“Hi, Addie. Hi, Nora,” Sawyer says, helping me with Nora’s things as I unstrap her from the booster seat, evading being stickered as best as possible.

She’s a pro, and I’ve shown up to work covered in glitter stickers more than once. My cheeks heat when the memory of the last time pops into my mind.

I haven’t seen Declan since the end of camp last week, but I’ve thought about him every day—an unhealthy amount.

He was professional at training camp, but his energy—the lightness in his smile and posture—returned after I gave him the care package. A small voice in the back of my mind likes to tell me I’m the reason, but she’s insane, which is why she’s been banished to the delusional land. It’s like Disney World, but instead of ‘It’s a Small World’ and ‘Jungle Cruise’, you have ‘It’s a Delusional World’ and ‘Crazy Cruise’.

“We have new paints in the craft room,” Sawyer says to Nora, who releases an excited squeal, hugs my leg, then darts into the building with the other children.

I turn back to my car, but Sawyer steps into my path. Nathalie, Deon’s fiancée, magically appears at her side. They’re both smiling at me like they’ve struck gold.

Outside of casual greetings in the family room after games and dropping Nora off for camp, we’ve never interacted, which is why this is incredibly weird.

Why aren’t they saying anything?

They’re like the dolls from that horror movie. Staring and smiling.

“Did I forget to pay Nora’s fees, or do I need to sign something?” I ask, bouncing on my feet.

Henry and Deon are wonderful people, but I’m beginning to think their partners are…odd.

“Thank you,” Sawyer says, throwing her arms out and pulling me into a tight hug. “We owe you.”

Nathalie joins in on the embrace, holding Sawyer and me. “For what?”

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