Page 28 of Ice Darling
“Yes, but I’ll ask her to take you there before she leaves.”
“Why can’tyoutake me?”
Because I don’t want to see Cordelia Davenport. I do very strange things when I’m around that woman.
I still don’t know what possessed me to grab her by the belt loops and pull her close.
Whipping out my keys, I tell her, “Come on, pumpkin. I have to get back to work. Finish your ice cream in the car.”
Later that night, I bring up the matter of Mom taking Gordie to the garage.
“Why don’tyoutake her?” Mom asks just like Gordie did earlier.
“I’ve…got practice,” I fib.
“Didn’t Max give the team a week off for winning the playoffs?” Mom arches a brow.
I glance aside.
Mom looks stricken. “You’re not avoiding Cordelia Davenport, are you?”
“No, I’m not. I’d just rather not see her.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.” I scrub a hand down my face. “And please don’t do anything like that again. Cordelia and I were very uncomfortable being set up. She doesn’t like me romantically”—or as a human being—“and the feeling is mutual.”
“But…why did you have her in your lap then?”
The memory of holding her close singes my mind, and I wave it away. “It was an accident.”
“Son, I saw the way you were staring at her. You haven’t looked that intrigued by a woman since you moved here.”
“Please, Mom. I’ve told you before. I’m not interested in dating. Don’t do it again.”
Mom sulks, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. I note that she doesn’t offer any promises to stop the matchmaking, but at least, I’ve made myself clear.
After Mom leaves, I get Gordie ready for bed, read her a story, and then rub her hair as she drifts to sleep.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, pumpkin.”
“I’ll be with you forever, right?”
“Yes, pumpkin. It’s you and me forever.”
She settles into her pillow and drifts off.
“We’re going to be okay, just the two of us,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Her deep, peaceful breathing is all the answer I get.
The next morning, I wake early and make pancakes, bacon, and orange juice, just in case Gordie needs a little pick-me-up before school. The first day without Miss Truman may be tough for her, and I want her to know that I’m here.
Gordie eats all the food and happily accepts the lunch box filled with mashed potatoes, mini sausages cut like tiny octopi, and a fruit bowl.
I drop her off at school, and she waves happily to me before bouncing inside.
