across her middle to keep her dress from falling down. He, of course, looked attractively windblown, which meant he’d come over in his new BMW convertible, and casually elegant in khakis and a polo she didn’t recognize, which probably meant his socialite girlfriend was now dressing him. Natalie, whose Sunday-school dress bore evidence of every crayon and snack she had touched that morning, had her arms around her father’s hips and her head buried in his stomach. Ava, who had managed to shed her Sunday dress and everything else except her underpants and one frilly sock, had had to settle for clasping her chubby arms around his thigh. Darcy rubbed her sausage body against his pant leg like a cat. Her long dachshund nose sniffed the air around him happily, despite the fact that Zachary had never wanted, fed, or cared for her.
The excitement on their faces made Brooke want to cry. So did the irritation on his.
“You didn’t answer my text.” He looked her up and down dismissively.
“We were in church,” she replied quietly and she hoped, with more dignity than her half-dressed state might indicate. “I had my phone off.”
“I guess you didn’t check messages on the house phone when you got home, either.” His words were clipped.
“We just walked in a minute ago,” she said although the truth was she probably wouldn’t have checked since there was so rarely a reason to. “What do you want?”
“I came to pick up the girls.” Given how little time he’d been spending with them, Brooke was not the only one who started in surprise at this. “If you can pack them each a small bag and their school uniform, we, I mean, I can drop them off in the morning.”
There were more shrieks of joy, but the girls didn’t let go. Which just went to show that while they both might have gotten her short, chunky build, red hair, and freckles, they had grasped certain truths about Zachary that she had not; namely that their father was someone they would have to make noise to attract and then cling tightly to hold on to.
He started to move toward the living room with the girls still attached, which produced a straight-legged, clunky, Frankenstein-monster sort of gait. The girls giggled as if he were playing the game he used to where he pretended to not even know they were there as he moved from room to room, but Brooke could feel the desperation in how tightly they’d locked their arms around him and the hysterical note of their laughter. She hurried after him, praying—as she hadn’t been able to find the energy to do in church—that he wouldn’t hurt their feelings or disappoint them yet again.
“So what made you decide on today?” Brooke asked as she pried first Natalie and then Ava off of him. Last weekend, which had been his scheduled weekend, he’d called barely ten minutes before she was supposed to have them waiting down in the lobby, to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it; something that had happened so many times in the last six months that she was more surprised when he showed up than when he didn’t.
Zachary hesitated and she could practically see his brain ducking and dodging, considering and rejecting possible answers. Which meant he feared the truth might prevent him from getting what he wanted.
“Go pack your bags, munchkins,” he said, spearing the girls with a false smile that matched the jolly tone. As if he actually expected a five – and seven-year-old to pack an overnight case with everything they might need without assistance.
“Yes,” Brooke added. “Go get started and I’ll be there in a minute to help you finish up.”
They raced to their rooms without further prompting, which was something that she’d often dreamed of but which was almost frightening when it actually happened.
“What’s going on?” she asked when the children were out of earshot. Her arms were growing tired from holding up her dress, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him for so simple a
The excitement on their faces made Brooke want to cry. So did the irritation on his.
“You didn’t answer my text.” He looked her up and down dismissively.
“We were in church,” she replied quietly and she hoped, with more dignity than her half-dressed state might indicate. “I had my phone off.”
“I guess you didn’t check messages on the house phone when you got home, either.” His words were clipped.
“We just walked in a minute ago,” she said although the truth was she probably wouldn’t have checked since there was so rarely a reason to. “What do you want?”
“I came to pick up the girls.” Given how little time he’d been spending with them, Brooke was not the only one who started in surprise at this. “If you can pack them each a small bag and their school uniform, we, I mean, I can drop them off in the morning.”
There were more shrieks of joy, but the girls didn’t let go. Which just went to show that while they both might have gotten her short, chunky build, red hair, and freckles, they had grasped certain truths about Zachary that she had not; namely that their father was someone they would have to make noise to attract and then cling tightly to hold on to.
He started to move toward the living room with the girls still attached, which produced a straight-legged, clunky, Frankenstein-monster sort of gait. The girls giggled as if he were playing the game he used to where he pretended to not even know they were there as he moved from room to room, but Brooke could feel the desperation in how tightly they’d locked their arms around him and the hysterical note of their laughter. She hurried after him, praying—as she hadn’t been able to find the energy to do in church—that he wouldn’t hurt their feelings or disappoint them yet again.
“So what made you decide on today?” Brooke asked as she pried first Natalie and then Ava off of him. Last weekend, which had been his scheduled weekend, he’d called barely ten minutes before she was supposed to have them waiting down in the lobby, to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it; something that had happened so many times in the last six months that she was more surprised when he showed up than when he didn’t.
Zachary hesitated and she could practically see his brain ducking and dodging, considering and rejecting possible answers. Which meant he feared the truth might prevent him from getting what he wanted.
“Go pack your bags, munchkins,” he said, spearing the girls with a false smile that matched the jolly tone. As if he actually expected a five – and seven-year-old to pack an overnight case with everything they might need without assistance.
“Yes,” Brooke added. “Go get started and I’ll be there in a minute to help you finish up.”
They raced to their rooms without further prompting, which was something that she’d often dreamed of but which was almost frightening when it actually happened.
“What’s going on?” she asked when the children were out of earshot. Her arms were growing tired from holding up her dress, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him for so simple a
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