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The large windows lining the back of my daughter’s preschool classroom cast plentiful light over the multi-colored walls. Bean bag chairs crowd one corner for reading, one section of dollhouses, another large table with Legos and building blocks, several empty tables for arts and crafts, and one section of small play kitchens. That’s where my daughter is. Mrs. Wordsworth continues to call Kara over as she shows the woman her back, intent on stirring air in a pan on the stove. Julie’s mom stands beside me as she also waits for her daughter to be delivered to her. I love this preschool, but I don’t know how my mom puts up with this chaos each and every day at pick-up.
Julie’s mom tells me about a play date our daughters had. I’m halfway listening but growing increasingly annoyed at Kara ignoring me. I break protocol, and in a you-had-better-listen-to-me-now tone, I raise my voice above the pick-up cacophony, “Kara.”
She waves her pudgy fingers at me and gives me a cute smile and all of the frustration melts a little.
Kara puts up her toys in the yellow bin, grabs her coat off the hook, and rambles toward me.
Julie’s mom tugs at my coat jacket and asks, “Is Kara available for a play date today?”
“Oh, my mom’s sick. I need to take her dinner.”
“What’s wrong with Cindy?”
“It’s just a bad cold.”
“I hope it’s not the flu. We could still have a play date this afternoon, and I could help you cook—”
Julie’s mom’s voice gets cut off by Kara shrieking, “Deelah!”
I whip around and scan the chaotic hall. Kara sprints past me, as a blonde woman runs down the hall and out of the building with Kara in hot pursuit. The woman looks like Delilah, but it can’t be her. Kara’s wrong; she’s just wishing. But she’s also out the door onto Brooklyn’s city streets, so I charge down the hall, skirting the short minions crowding the hallway. If I knew anyone’s name, I could call out for someone to grab her.
As I step outside, heart pounding, I glance left then right, searching for Kara. When I get hold of her, I am going to let her have it. Chasing a stranger? In New York? I grit my teeth, working to control my rising anger and fear when I catch sight of the blonde woman bending on the sidewalk hugging my daughter. I take the steps two at a time then come to a harsh stop.
I blink. It is Delilah.
Her honey-blonde hair cascades around her shoulders and shimmers in the daylight. She’s bent down around Kara, hugging her tightly. My chest contracts, making it difficult to breathe. I stand behind them, patiently waiting for Delilah to look up. When she does, her blue eyes glisten.
She slowly rises, and as she does, Kara sidles up to her and wraps her arm around her jeans-clad thigh. Someone bumps me from behind, a reminder we’re standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk right after school dismissal. I reach out to guide her out of the way, next to the black iron fence that runs along the front of the preschool. As I move the two of them, a need to protect my daughter fills me, and I reach down and pull her to me, so she stands with me.
“What are you doing here?”
Her expression is tentative, possibly fearful. I don’t mean to frighten her, but I’ve already put my heart on the line. She told me how she feels. She doesn’t have any business showing up at my daughter’s school.
She rests her hip against the fence and, looking past my shoulder, raises her arm and points. “Are you with that woman?”
“What?” Anger and annoyance surge. “What woman?”
She lifts her arm and points to the school entrance. The mother of Kara’s classmate stands with her daughter, watching us near the school entrance. “With her?” I am incredulous.
Delilah smacks her palm across her forehead. “Oh, Mylanta. Of course, you aren’t. I just saw...”
I reach out for her wrist and squeeze until those blue irises gaze directly into mine. “I asked you. To marry me, and you thought—”
“Ridiculous, right? My head sometimes floats off, and whatever I’m feeling inside free-flows. I shoulda known. But it’s not that crazy because you are you, and like Ashley said, you could basically have anyone.”
I touch her shoulder to stop the rambling. “It is crazy. Crazy for you to think that.”
She bounces up and down on her heels, her expression a mixture of tentative and hopeful. “Look, I decided to move back to New York. I want to give us a chance. If you want to, that is.”
“What about your parents?”
“I decided I want to live in New York. I’ve accepted the promotion.” Her fingers graze the stubble on my jaw, and her blue eyes capture mine. She mouths the words, “I love you, Mason.” She glances down to Kara, who is watching both of us. It’s clear she’s not missing any of this. “Are you...can we try?”
This gorgeous woman who I flew across an ocean for is nervous and unsure of herself. She doesn’t need to be. I’m in love with her. Of course I’m going to give this a go. But she didn’t say she’s back here for me, and it’s not like I’ve forgotten the pain when she turned me down. She and I need to talk.
Her fingers are still against my jaw as she awaits my answer, and I reach for her hand and press a kiss to it. “I think we should consult the 8-Ball.”
“What’s an 8-Ball, Daddy?” Kara yanks on my shirt to get my attention.
“It’s a plastic ball with a dice inside, filled with alcohol and blue dye. There are answers on each side of the dice, instead of numbers, like the dice we play with.”
Kara looks at me like she thinks I’m pulling her leg. “You’re being silly.”
I smirk and pull her up onto my thigh. Yeah, I’m being silly, but I need to buy time to get back to my apartment and have an adult conversation with Delilah.
“If you want to consult the 8-Ball, we can. Or the tarot cards. But I recommend we decide for ourselves. Let the fates decide something else, like whether there will be a white Christmas.”
“Why don’t we talk about it back at the apartment? How about we go home, and I’ll make hot chocolate?”
Kara squeals, “Yes! And, Deelah, you wanna play Candyland? Or color?”
“I’d love to.” I take her hand for the short walk back home.
Kara rambles on, telling Delilah about how she’s hung up each and every piece of art she completed with her over FaceTime.
The sun has dropped below the skyline, and the city streets are transitioning to dusk. Holiday lights and decorations line the street and grace almost every store window. Christmas music blares from a store or possibly through an apartment window. Walking with these two, one on my hip, one tucked into my side, feels right. I know it. But when we catch each other’s gaze, it’s loaded. Loaded with questions. We need to talk.
As soon as we arrive at the apartment, I set Kara up on the sofa with hot chocolate and her favorite cartoon in lightning-fast speed. Today, she’s in for a treat. I plan to let her watch several episodes. Delilah moves to sit behind Kara, but I grab her hand and tug her to the kitchen. Once we are in the closed-off room, I pick her up, set her on the kitchen counter, and step between her thighs and press her to me and kiss her the way I’ve been dying to the whole way home.
When she pulls back, lips red and slightly swollen, I think of other places that are going to be flushed and rubbed raw before morning. I have missed this woman more than I ever thought possible. But we need to talk.
“So, no 8-Ball?”
I shake my head. “But we do need to talk. I need to know you are in this. That you are serious about this.” My index finger taps her chest and mine.
“I am. Mason, I promise, I am. I’m in love with you. And it’s scary as hell, and I’ve never been through this, so I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know how I’ll feel a week from now or a month from now. And, logically, I know relationships take work. Right now, it doesn’t feel like work. I want to be with you. There’s no way it’s going to always be easy, but I want to try. I need to try. I don’t want to have to wonder about what might’ve been.”
She licks her crimson lips, and I go in for another kiss. She places a palm to my chest and softly pushes back.
“You asked me to marry you.”
I nod, ever so slightly. “I did. And you said no.”
“Yes.”
“Wait, are you saying yes now?”
She smiles big enough to flash her pearly white teeth and shakes her head. “No.”
“It’s too soon,” I agree. It hurt like hell, but that day in the park, she gave the best answer.
“Yes, it’s too soon. But...”
I tilt her head up to me and kiss her once again as Kara’s fingers tug at my jeans pocket, alerting me to her presence. I lower my hand to touch Kara’s shoulder to let her know I see her while I ask Delilah, “But?”
“I’m here. I’m all in. Heart and soul.”