Simon
Three months later
Hayden swings our hands together as we head down the tree-lined block in the east 80s, on the way to her first day of kindergarten. She skips, and to say she’s eager to start school is an understatement. My girl is fearless, and it’s one of the things I most admire about her.
“And if the teacher asks how you spent your summer, what will you say?” I ask.
“So much stuff! I learned how to fence, and I became awesome at it,” she declares, and that’s sort of true. Surprisingly, she’s stayed with the sport, attending lessons and classes a few days a week. Taking her to the club is one of my favorite things to do, partly because she enjoys it so much, and partly because Abby joins us at nearly every class and we watch her progress together. Abby cheers her on and gives her tips, and then we lean closer, talking about how great she’s doing. I’m sure if anyone paid attention to us, they’d gag over how adorably in love we are.
Let them.
Fucking let them.
“That’s true,” I say. “You’re a regular pirate musketeer sword fighter. What else?”
“We went to London and saw the big jewels,” she continues, and that trip was fantastic, too. The three of us rode the London Eye, visited Big Ben, checked out the museums, and admired the crown jewels.
“And we were all perfectly fluent in the language,” I tease.
“Except they talk funny over there. But funny good,” she says as we near the school entrance. “Oh wait! There was one more thing that happened this summer. The baby eagles left their nest. We watched the eaglets become eagles.”
“We sure did,” I say, and that was yet another thing the three of us did together. Funny, how the eaglets in the poplar tree became matchmakers for Abby and me. Checking out “Eagle TV” every day, trading texts—experiencing little moments of those hatchlings growing into badass birds of prey—played a part in the two of us falling in love.
Eagles and zebras, French braids and restaurants, angel food cake and language lessons, and so many stolen moments that turned real.
At the school, I give my daughter a big hug goodbye, then I wave as she heads through the doors. As I walk away, I check the time.
Abby’s at work and won’t be free until lunch, so I duck into a coffee shop and use my phone to catch up on a few small business items that need my attention. As I enjoy a coffee, I answer an email about a new project I’m dabbling in—dabbling is the way I like to work these days. A few hours while Hayden’s in school is all I need to satisfy the business itch.
When I wrap up the email, I call it a day. I wander up Lexington for an hour, then back down, enjoying the September morning that rolls into noon, when I meet the woman of my dreams for lunch at a sidewalk café on Seventy-Eighth Street, with a chalkboard menu out front.
She greets me with a kiss, soft and delicious, which leaves me wanting more. Somehow, I manage not to turn it R-rated.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her.
“As do you. So give me all the details,” she says as she sits down. “How was the drop-off? Was she nervous? Or fearless?”
“Guess.”
“Fearless, of course,” she says, beaming.
I tell her everything, and then we talk about her morning teaching and her lesson plans for the rest of the week. When the meal ends, I walk her back to work, giving her another kiss that I hope leaves her longing for kisses later tonight that don’t stop.
“Can’t wait till bedtime,” I whisper.
“Me, too.”
That’s because we live together now.
We’re not the Brady Bunch family. Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we’re tired. But you know what? Somehow, it’s all working out, and I’m the happiest guy in the world with the two ladies in my life—the girl I love madly and the woman I adore to the ends of the earth.
They are my everything.