Page 119 of The Best Men
“You kissed that man goodbye.”
Surprised, I lean back and check my daughter’s expression. She stares at me with Bridget’s wide brown eyes.
“Yes, I did,” I say carefully. “Asher and I are close, Rosie. And sometimes men kiss each other. Sometimes men even have boyfriends. A man can have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, just like a woman can have a girlfriend or a boyfriend.”
We have a picture book about this at home, of course. Bridget bought it when Rosie asked why Alba had two mommies.
“Mommy kisses Morgan sometimes,” Rosie says.
“Yes, I’m sure she does. She loves him. And when you love someone—and you have their permission—you can kiss them.”
“Okay,” she says.
This is going pretty well, but I brace myself for another question. And then it comes.
“Can I get frozen cheesecake on a stick?”
“Wait, what?” My mind scrambles to make sense of that question. But nope. I got nothing.
“When Darcy went to Disney World, she ate cheesecake on a stick. Are we going to do that?”
“Uh, maybe? If we see it, and if we ate a good lunch.”
“Okay,” Rosie says simply. “Neat.”
I close the door. Then I climb into the car and start up the engine.
See you later, Miami. It was nice knowing you.
39
NEVER SAY NEVER
TUESDAY AND BEYOND
MARK
“Can we go back to the pool, Daddy?” Rosie asks as I sign the dinner bill Tuesday night.
“Nope,” I say with weary firmness. “It’s already past your bedtime.” Daddy needs a twelve-dollar beer from the mini bar, a massage, and a break. “Tomorrow we’ll hit the pool, though. We’ll do all your favorite things one more time.”
“Even the teacups? Even if the line is long?”
“Yup. I promise.”
I’d bought four-day passes to the parks when three would have been plenty. Disney World is killing me. The lines. The crowds. The heat. But Rosie is having the time of her life. I’ve taken approximately one thousand photos. And I know I’ll look back on this trip fondly.
Someday. After my feet recover.
Rosie is tired, too, and she doesn’t put up a fight when I get her into her nightie up in our room. I skip bath time, though, because pool water totally counts, right?
Right.
“Good night, cupcake,” I say, kissing her forehead as she snuggles under the comforter.
My phone bleats with a text.
Her head pops off the pillow. “Is that Mommy?”
