Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Oh, you mean while you’re out on the field doing your job?” I ask him. “We’re fine, East. Don’t worry about us. Just go and have a good game. We’ll be here when it’s over.”
“I love that,” he says softly. “I love that the two of you are here and will be when the game is over.”
“That’s because we love you, silly,” Paisley chimes in.
“I love you too, princess.” He’s said those very words to her before, but every time it causes my heart to tip over in my chest. I know he means it. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He truly loves my daughter. Then again, maybe that’s just me. Maybe more of my heart is wrapped up in him.
We find our seats easily enough, and as soon as we sit, the blonde in the chair next to Paisley turns in her seat. “You must be Larissa.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Carol. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, you as well.”
“I’m Paisley.” My daughter holds out her hand, and Carol laughs.
“I’ve heard all about you, Paisley. It’s nice to meet you too.”
“You know me?”
“Easton couldn’t stop talking about you,” she tells her.
“Oh, yeah, he loves me.” She says it so nonchalantly you have to smile.
“You ready for the game?” Carol asks her.
“Yep. My East is gonna win,” Paisley tells her.
“Sorry,” I tell Carol. “She’s quite taken with him.”
“Is she the only one?” Carol smiles coyly. “Sorry, I’m overstepping, but I’ve known him for a while now, and he’s quite smitten.”
“He’s not the only one,” I admit, just as we’re instructed to rise for the national anthem. Once the players are announced and the first pitch is thrown, Paisley bounces in her seat, cheering for Easton and the Blaze.
At the beginning of the seventh innings, my daughter turns to me with a serious expression on her face. “Mommy, can East be my daddy?”
I freeze at her question, not knowing how to answer her. Carol catches my eyes and gives me a warm smile, letting me know she heard her. “Sweetheart, it’s not that simple.”
“But he loves us, and that’s what daddies do. They love you and your mommy.”
My sweet girl. “That’s true, but those kinds of things take time. Your biological daddy is in heaven, so that makes things not so easy.”
“Sure it is. I’m gonna ask him.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I leave it alone. It’s not until the bottom of the ninth, when East is standing just outside the dugout where we have a clear view, that I realize leaving it alone wasn’t the best way to handle it. Not when Paisley stands up in her chair and screams his name. He turns to face us, a smile spread wide across his face. I’ll give him credit, it doesn’t falter when she screams, “Will you be my daddy?”
The crowd around us falls to a hush while my daughter stands on her chair, hands on her hips, waiting for his answer. He blows her a kiss because he’s up to bat. I expect her to freak out, but she doesn’t. She sits back down and looks over at me. “Told you he loved us,” she says, then goes back to watching the game.
The crowd picks back up as if the scene never happened, and I breathe a sigh of relief, that is until the mean girls behind us start running their mouths.
“What kind of mother lets her kid think that Easton Monroe could be her father?”
“Pathetic.”
“She needs to teach her about life.”
On and on they spew hate.
“Like he would ever take them on,” one of them sneers. “Like he wants a ready-made family. As if.”
Paisley whips around and points her little finger. “My East says speak from your heart. Your heart is not very nice. He loves us. My Easton, me, and my mommy are a family,” she tells them.
I was hoping she hadn’t heard them. To prevent a bigger spectacle and cause problems for East, I gather our stuff, pick Paisley up, and we leave. We’re only missing half of the last innings, and she doesn’t need to hear this shit. I want to go off on them, but I’m trying to set an example for my daughter, and I don’t want to embarrass East more than we already have. I’m sure he’s going to regret asking us to the game.
Instead of sticking around, I send him a text.
Me: Hey, heading out early. You had a great game. Call me when you get home.
I get Paisley, who is crying big fat crocodile tears, in the car and calmed down before leaving the stadium. She falls asleep on the way home, which is a good thing. I need time to process what just happened. I carry P to her room, pulling off her shoes and shutting her bedroom door.