Page 40 of Love Deep
I shrug, pull the card from where it’s nestled in among the leaves, and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans. Riley doesn’t notice. Why would she? I don’t think I’ve ever had flowers delivered before.
“Let’s get you to school,” I say. “We’re going to be late.”
“But, Mommy, who sent us flowers?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
We get into my beat-up Honda and head out.
“I think it was Fisher,” she says from the back, and myheart splutters. How would she know that? “The guy from the diner. I think he likes you, Mommy. And when boys like girls, they give them flowers.”
“Is that right?” I say.
“Yes, it’s true. I saw it in a movie.”
“Okay then.”
“Is he going to be my new dad?”
I grip the steering wheel harder. I try and keep my voice as neutral as I can when I reply, “You have a dad, Riley. Why would you think Fisher is going to be your dad?”
She shrugs. “I never see my dad. If Fisher was my dad, I’d see him more.”
“Oh, honey. Fisher isn’t going to be your dad. Yourdadis your dad. I know you wish you could see him more. Maybe I’ll try and set up a FaceTime with him this weekend?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding unenthusiastic.
Bill isn’t great at keeping in touch with Riley between visits. It’s not because he doesn’t love her. I know he does. But he’s busy and occupied. I just don’t think she’s at the front of his mind. Or at least, he doesn’t put her at the front of his mind.
Before he left, I warned him that he’d need to put structures in place. Routines. If he wanted to stay a priority for her, she’d need to be a priority for him. He assured me that he would, and in the beginning, it was fine. He called every Sunday morning. And he’d send her postcards. But as his new family grew, he started rearranging calls or missing them completely.
Seeing the disappointment in her eyes was heartbreaking. It’s still heartbreaking. All the hope that she’s going to speak to someone who loves her, and then he cancels. Sometimes, I think it would be easier if he cut all contact. At leastshe could heal. But this way, she keeps being let down. She keeps getting hurt.
Whenever I raise the issue with Bill, he has an excuse. I can’t force him to be more reliable for Riley. I can’t see it ever changing. I get that she’d want to trade him in for another dad.
We pull up at school and I park. As we get out of the car, someone calls Riley’s name, but she doesn’t look up like she normally does.
“But if you married Fisher, then would he be my daddy?” she asks, as she turns to look at me.
It’s like an arrow to my chest. I wish I could give her that. Hope for a new daddy. A better, attentive, more present father. But I can’t. Certainly not with Fisher. But realistically, I can’t see myself ever being married to anyone. I’ve managed this long.
“I’m not going to marry Fisher, sweet girl.” I pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”
She pulls away and nods solemnly at me. “I am sad. I want a dad. Everyone has a dad except me.”
“I get that,” I say to her, and I pull her in for another hug. “It’s so hard,” I whisper against her pretty, soft hair.
Someone calls her name again.
“I’d better go, Mom. You need to get to work.”
I smile. She’s such an empathetic kid.
“I love you bunches,” she says.
“Love you double,” I reply, as I hook her backpack onto her arms.
She heads off over to the playground. Soon, she’s smiling and playing her favorite clapping games with her three best friends, and it makes me feel slightly better that she’s bounced back. For now.
