Page 6 of This Kind of Forever
Her lips part, and I try not to let the visual go to my head. “You visit Pops?”
“He didn’t tell you?” She shakes her head. “It’s not often, but I try to go a couple times a month. I figured someone should.”
She stiffens at the implication, and any ease to this conversation has officially been lost.Shit, shit, shit. That definitely did not come out the way I wanted it to. My mouth and brain seem to be operating at different speeds today.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, I?—”
“It’s alright,” she says, but it doesn’t feel alright. It feels like I’ve torn open a wound that barely had time to scab over. “I should get going. Lots to do. It was good to see you.”
“Foster, wait. I?—”
“Daddy!”
Little pink shoes slap against the tiled floor, and then Abbie skids to a stop in front of me, holding up a box of cereal. Or a box of sugar labelled as cereal, but it’s all the same to her.
Unaware of Hallie’s presence, my daughter waves the box at me. “Can I get this?Please.”
My eyes flick back up to Hallie, but all I see is her retreating back.Damn it. With a sigh, I turn my focus to Abbie.
Taking the box from her, I eye the packaging. “Does your mom buy this for you?”
She clasps her hands together, staring up at me with an angelic smile. She nods. “Uh huh. All the time!”
I almost scoff at that. Larissa shops exclusively in the organic section. She probably doesn’t even buy plain Cheerios, let alone whatever this is.
Arching a brow, I ask, “Are you lying, Abigail?”
To her credit, Abbie doesn’t break right away. This isn’t the first standoff I’ve had with her, and it sure as shit won’t be the last. But I take comfort in winning these battles now because I know it won’t be so easy in a few years.
Her shoulders drop. “Yes,” she admits. “But it looks so yummy! Daddy, please?”
I hand the box to her as I shake my head. “Nice try, dude. Put it back.”
With a frown, she snatches the cereal and heads down the aisle. I watch her push up onto the tips of her toes to slide the box back onto the shelf. Then she stomps back over to my side, her little arms crossed.
I nudge her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go pick something out for dinner. I think Mom’s coming over after her shift.”
Her eyes light up at that. Even though we split custody, Larissa and I make it a point to spend time together with Abbie when we can. The early days were a little rough, but now we have our routines and everyone is happy.
Abbie declares she wants pasta, so we head into the next aisle to find some sauce and the pasta shells. I begin to scan the shelves, looking for our usual brand.
“Oh, I want this,” Abbie says from behind me, still standing out in the main aisle.
I turn just as she sets her hand on a can of Alpha-getti. At the very bottom of the too-tall display. I suck in a breath, reaching out to stop her, but it’s too late.
Abbie tugs on the Alpha-getti, pulling it free. Which sends the rest of them crashing down.
All I see is a flash of blonde and lavender before Hallie swoops in and pulls Abbie out of the path of rogue aluminum as the cans careen to the floor. It’s like dominoes, one falling after the other. When they hit the ground, they start rolling, amplifying the mess. And the noise.
“Oops.” Abbie, standing safe at Hallie’s side, still clutches her can. She finds my eyes. “Sorry, Daddy.”
I sigh, taking a second to close my eyes. They pop open when I hear angry footsteps marching down the adjacent aisle. Then Gordon appears. His face is the colour of a radish, and his balding head shines under the fluorescent lights.
He looks from the destruction, to Abbie, to me. “I expect you to pay for the damages,” he clips. “We can’t sell dented cans.”
“I’ll pay,” I assure him. “And we’ll help clean up.”
The store manager only crosses his arms, supervising as Abbie and I start picking up the cans. An employee takes pity on us and brings a shopping cart over for the damaged ones to be set aside. Hallie jumps right in without a word, working to build the display back up to its former glory.
