Walk the Dog

by Isabel Jolie

  Within minutes, I have the table set, food out of the bags with serving spoons, and I shift to Mason. Cold, dark green orbs track my every movement. Other than squirming to get down, Kara seems somewhat content in her daddy’s hold, but Mason’s tormented countenance troubles me. Kara doesn’t need to pick up on it.

  I stand next to Mason and stroke his shoulder and bicep until the muscles beneath his shirt relax, then I loop an arm around Kara to shift her from Mason’s hip to mine. His jaw muscles ripple, as if he’s grinding his teeth.

  “Let’s get Kara seated so we can eat.” I say it softly, searching for some sign he’s okay. He’s rattled, but he’s got to get his feet back on the ground, for Kara’s sake.

  He blinks, like he’s coming out of a fog, and releases her to me. I get her set up in her booster chair, a plastic contraption that sits her higher to the table, and buckle her in. “Did you eat, honey?”

  “Mommy gave me popcorn!” She says popcorn with a high pitch and with the same enthusiasm I used to say cotton candy when I was a kid.

  I open the container of angel hair pasta, some Leigh found in the kitchen for me, and ask if Kara would like marinara sauce too. I urge her to stick her finger in the sauce to taste it, and she giggles because she’s breaking a rule. I explain it’s take-out, and our manners can slide when it’s take-out. As I pour the sauce she declared yummy onto her food, I glance back at Mason. He’s still standing in place, but the harshness has softened.

  I guide him to his chair then take a moment to knead his hard shoulders and press a soft kiss below his ear. As I step away to my chair, he loops an arm around my waist and pulls me close. A soft, “Thank you,” escapes.

  At bedtime, Mason and I surround Kara with each of us on one side as we take turns reading books to her. Kara holds my fingers but snuggles against her daddy, her body partially lying on his. I pick up a well-worn copy of Goodnight Moon and hold it up as a suggestion for our next book, and she gives her approval.

  Then softly she says, “No Lion King. The daddy gets hurt.”

  She’s such a sweetie. I brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. Mason’s eyes glimmer in the lamp light. It’s one thing to have an illustrated book where a character gets hurt. It’s quite another to watch the movie in action with dramatic music and vivid, moving color. And for his baby girl to take that in, I know he’s got to be swimming in a well of emotion.

  When she succumbs to sleep, I squeeze her precious little hand and lay a soft kiss on her forehead, then lean over further and press a kiss to Mason’s jaw. As I leave Kara’s bedroom, Mason lies on the bed, eyes closed, one arm possessively draped over his daughter. His concern and love are so apparent, it warms the soul and twirls about nostalgic memories and feelings. I swallow back my emotions and pull the door closed as tears glide down my face unchecked.

  Minutes pass, and I sit on the brown leather sofa, wrapped up in the fuzzy princess blanket. I’m stroking Belle’s image when Kara’s bedroom door opens. Mason slumps down on the sofa beside me and pulls me next to him. I snuggle into his side, much the way Kara did tonight in bed.

  Mason threads his fingers through mine and exhales. “Dee, you have no idea how scared. How many scary scenarios crossed my mind. Fire. Her falling. Scissors. She’s barely four! How could she leave her alone?”

  On my cab ride over, I had similar thoughts. I also called Jackson, since he’s a lawyer, to learn more about Mason’s options. “Has Amber done this before?”

  “Never. But she’s never had the chance.” He gazes out the window into the night. “Amber wouldn’t even hold Kara in the hospital. She was afraid she’d grow attached. She was determined to not give up her dream. Probably would’ve had an abortion, but she found out too late. Her plan was to place Kara up for adoption. As you know, I told her no. I told her she could still pursue her dreams, and I’d raise Kara. For years, she wanted nothing to do with her. But I’ve pushed and pushed.”

  “When did she start spending time with her?”

  “Recently.” He rubs his forehead hard, as if he’s trying to remove a memory. “I always sent her pictures. For years, Amber wouldn’t respond. This past year, she thanked me. Then, a couple of weeks ago, she finally called. I wanted Kara to have her mother.” His voice cracks, and I lean over and place a soft kiss on his neck, the only place I can reach.

  Still holding him, I tell him, “I called a friend on the way over. A lawyer. He suggested you report this to the police so you have it on record.”

  Mason recoils but keeps me tucked into his side. “I’m not filing a police report. Too many unknowns. Social services could take her away while they investigate. I can’t risk it.”

  “Jackson’s specialty is corporate law. He suggested you retain a family practice lawyer. He said it’s important for you to get full custody so you can control how much contact and what kind of contact Amber has in the future.” I’m speaking in a low, quiet, calm tone, but Mason reacts as if I’m shouting, squinting and jerking back, shaking his head.

  “No. I don’t need to get lawyers involved. Amber wants as little as possible to do with Kara. I’ve been the one pushing for their relationship. I won’t push anymore.”

  I don’t argue, although I don’t agree. But there’s too much emotion to push on this right now. Sometimes life throws curveballs that require a good night’s rest and a stable heart before we can catch the ball and spin it back out into the universe.

  Mason tugs my hair and in a gruff, broken voice says, “Thank you for being here.”

  I place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “Any time.”

  He exhales. “About that, before Amber did that, it hit me I let you into my daughter’s life. She’s my world. I’m not sure I’m making the best decisions right now.” My chest constricts, making it a bit harder to breathe. He runs his thumb across my knuckles. “You make me happy. I love spending time with you. You fit into our world easily. Make it better. But it’s not just me. And it’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to ask you to make a commitment so early on. But I can’t let you get close to her and then...” He stops speaking, but he’s said enough.

  I reach up and angle his head to mine, forcing him to look me in the eye. “I can’t promise us forever. But I can promise you I’ll be there for Kara for as long as you want me to be in her life. I didn’t know I could love a little kid. Not now, at this stage in my life. But I do. I was so scared in the cab ride over here. All I could think about is what she needs, and what you need.” I hated the sense of helplessness. I called Anna and had her put Jackson on the phone. Probed him with questions about legal rights and what we should do, gathering information for Mason because it felt like the only action I could take while stuck in the back of a cab in Friday night city traffic.

  Mason’s strong arms wrap around me in a cocoon, holding me close. His heart reverberates, and I press closer to the sensation. “I’m falling for you, Delilah.” He runs his fingers through my hair and repositions me on his lap. “But I get the feeling I’m out of my league here.” His thumb lightly runs over the earring in my ear, a gift from my parents. “I don’t think I can afford to give you the lifestyle you’re used to on what I’m going to make as a veterinarian—”

  “Mason, if you think I care about money, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t need you to provide for me.” His brow wrinkles as his thumb and index finger caress my chin.

  I run my fingers over his stubbled jaw and gently pull until his eyes meet mine. “I’m falling for you too. I’ve never been in a real relationship before. Nothing serious, at least. I’m probably going to mess up. But if you’re okay with being with someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, someone who has a whole lotta shit to figure out...I want to be with you. And I want to be there for Kara too. I’m falling for both of you.” I hold my breath. I need to tell him about New Orleans. About my obligations. What I’ve been putting off. What I can’t put off forever. But he’s not responding to me. He may not want this. Me. I’m a lot to
take. I get that. And I definitely don’t have my shit together. He’d probably prefer someone who is buttoned up and organized and even-keeled and...

  His strong hand cups the back of my neck, and he pulls our heads together, forehead to forehead, while his other arm loops around my back to hold me close. We sit there, holding each other. I close my eyes while breathing in his earthy, clean scent. The tender moment stirs deep, and novel emotions rise as I hold him and revel in the sensations rippling through my core.

  He places a soft kiss on my forehead, then trails light kisses from my cheek, to the sensitive skin below my ear and down my neck. He lifts me off the couch and pulls me into his bedroom, taking care to close the door softly, then lifts me up and carries me across the room. He sets me down on the bed and unbuttons his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. His movements are slow and precise. Measured. With gentleness and care, he discards my clothes. There is a heaviness in the air, a seriousness. Neither of us speaks, but we swim in each other’s eyes.

  I love this man. I love how much he loves his daughter. How he stepped in to take care of her when it would have been so much easier to put her up for adoption. How he cares for every living being in his path. How he studies a problem and finds a solution. I love how much he wants his daughter to have what he didn’t have, and how much it’s breaking him that he can’t give her her mother. I love those jade eyes, an ever-changing hue I have yet to pinpoint, and I love how I get lost in them. These may be fleeting emotions, or they may be as permanent as the sea, but for now, my love for this man is deeper and more intense than anything I’ve experienced in my life.

  When he spreads my legs and lifts my hips and thrusts deep inside, he fills me, physically and emotionally. His tongue caresses mine as our bodies join. Tonight, we are making love. Comforting each other. Reveling in the newness of something that feels right. He brings me higher and higher until I detonate, shuddering around him as my orgasm rips through me, leaving me bare and vulnerable, clinging to him as if he’s my lifeline.

  A nagging worry gnaws at my newfound bliss. Guilt. My life here is temporary. We are temporary. But as I snuggle into his side, I tighten my hold on him and will my negative notions away, to be dealt with another day.

  Chapter 13

  Mason

  Saturday morning, I wake with a hard-on and my hand cupping her full breast. I have less than sixty seconds to revel in my position before I hear soft tapping on the bedroom door and my baby girl questioning, “Daddy?”

  I leap out of bed and grab my boxers from the floor. Delilah’s golden hair drapes over the pillow, and the sheet falls below her waistline. She’s gorgeous, but there’s no time to appreciate her. I pull the comforter up to her shoulders and charge to the door, thankful I locked it after my last trip to the bathroom last night.

  I open the door, and an inquisitive face peers up at me. “Why’s the door locked?” My door is always open, but with a glance back at Delilah, I realize that’s a part of my routine that’s going to be changing. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

  I scoop my baby girl up into my arms, closing the door behind me before heading to the kitchen to get coffee started. Kara’s arm points back to my bedroom as I’m carrying her away. “Did you have a sleepover?”

  I flip the kitchen light on then set her onto the counter and set about grinding the coffee beans. I learned a long time ago that sometimes silence leads to an easier question.

  “Can I play with Delilah today?” she asks as she kicks her feet back and forth against the counter.

  After I press brew on the coffee machine, I squeeze Kara’s cool bare foot. “If she can.”

  She beams a smile up at me, and my heart warms. “Yes. We can paint. And she can teach me to do the yoga.”

  I kiss her nose. “I’m not working today, so we can do whatever you want to do.”

  “Yay!” There’s a slight pause as I pull down the coffee mugs before Kara drops her bomb again. “Did she sleep over?”

  There’s a sadness to her tone that has me twisting around to face her. “Yes, baby. She’s my girlfriend. We’re going to be spending more time with her. Is that okay?”

  She toys with the edge of her nightgown. “Yes. Can she sleep in my bed next time?”

  “You wanna to have a sleepover, pumpkin?”

  She nods. “I’m not sure what age kids start doing sleepovers with friends. Let me ask some of your friends’ parents and see what they say, okay?”

  “Why not Deelah?” she asks with her adorable little girl plea. I grin as I pour my coffee.

  “You want a sleepover with Deelah?” She nods. “Tell you what. Why don’t we ask her?”

  She leaps forward off the counter, and I barely catch her in time. “Kara! Careful.”

  “Aw, Daddy. I can do it.” Before I can respond, she’s running out of the kitchen.

  I follow, a little too slow pre-coffee to anticipate where she’s going. As I round the corner, I glimpse a flash of Kara’s nightgown heading into our bedroom—my bedroom. Not our bedroom. Not yet. Maybe one day.

  I enter the bedroom as Kara jumps up and down, using the bed as an indoor trampoline, and Delilah ever so slowly reaches for my pillow and slides it over her head.

  Airborne, Kara squeals, “Deelah! Wanna sleep over? In my room?”

  I catch Kara in mid-air and toss her away from the bed as her peals of laughter cascade through the bright sun-filled room. Delilah lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks out.

  “Morning, beautiful. Sorry about this one here. Want me to bring you some coffee?”

  She smiles and nods, but the pillow stays on top of her head and the comforter remains near her shoulders. I step into my closet and pull out a pair of my sweats and one of my smaller t-shirts and throw them onto the bed. “Feel free to wear anything of mine you want.”

  “Where are her clothes?”

  I toss Kara in the air a few feet out in front of me and step forward, clearing us out of the bedroom, and continue doing the toss-catch game as I explain we had to rush home last night, and she didn’t have time to pack clothes.

  “So next time she’ll pack clothes?” Kara asks as I set her back up on the kitchen counter.

  I grin as I take out a second coffee cup for Delilah. “Yes, next time she’ll pack clothes. And when your friends come over, we’ll be sure they pack clothes.” I supply the next part more to get her brain thinking about future sleepovers with her friends.

  Delilah rounds the corner into the kitchen, her hair pulled into a giant pile on top of her head. She’s wearing my sweats and a plain white t-shirt, and they swallow her, yet with her bare feet and shiny red nail polish, she’s adorable and sexy.

  I reach into the refrigerator for the soymilk, finish Delilah’s coffee, and pull her body into mine when I deliver her mug. Her hair still smells of flowers, and I relax into her as I kiss her forehead. Delilah stands on tiptoe and places a kiss on my neck.

  Kara smiles at us then holds her arm out into the air. “Deelah, wanna watch cartoons?”

  “Absolutely.” Delilah scoops Kara up onto her hip and carries her into the den as they debate exactly which cartoon they should watch. It was close between Paw Patrol and Doc McStuffins, but I hear Delilah mention she likes the Doc, and after a squeal from Kara, TV sounds fill the now empty kitchen. I open the fridge and set about making pancakes for breakfast.

  I’m lost in the world of flipping pancakes when two arms slip around my waist and Delilah’s lips touch the back of my neck. When I twist in her arms to face her, I place a soft kiss on her lips. I want more, so much more. But it’s got to be restrained, given we have a child in the next room. Delilah must be thinking the same thing, as she steps away from me and rests her back against the counter.

  “Sorry about this morning.”

  I tilt my head. “Huh?”

  “I didn’t realize she would wake so early. You could have kicked me out. I would’ve been okay with it. I know she’s just a kid, and it’s got to be
weird to have me here in the morning.”

  “Uh-uh,” I break in. “Not weird at all.” Perfect, actually. “I told her you’re my girlfriend and you’ll be over. A lot.” Blue eyes meet mine. I hold my breath. This is the girl who told me she doesn’t like compound words. But surely things have changed now.

  Her eyes widen, and she presses her lips together in a flat line. I pause, waiting for her response. We didn’t talk specifics last night but...

  “Okay.” She reaches up and pulls me down to her for a deep, slow kiss that has my heart speeding up and blood rushing to my cock. For once, I’m glad my kitchen doesn’t open into the den like so many do in open floorplans.

  It’s hard to describe the sense of peacefulness Delilah brings with her. Kara and I, we were happy before. We had a rhythm that worked for us, and my baby girl giggles and laughs as much as any kid. But there’s a brightness and energy to Delilah that warms the white walls in our apartment. She’s like a pair of Maui Jim sunglasses infusing the world with opalescence. And I am fully aware these thoughts are those of a cheeseball, and I don’t care. Not at all. Kara adores her and seems thrilled to have her around. Last night’s events with her mom seem to be forgotten. Kara’s beaming and giddy. All the happiness I see in my daughter is what I’m feeling on the inside.

  After breakfast, we all bundle up to head to the park. It’s a chilly early December day, but the skies are blue, and red and green holiday decorations appear on every street and in most store windows. I hold Kara’s left hand and Delilah holds her right, and we swing her along, down the city sidewalks until we reach the park entrance. We’re the picture of the perfect family, the family I yearned for when I was a kid. The mother, father, and child. It doesn’t matter that Delilah isn’t Kara’s biological mother. But having someone in that role for Kara is something I’ve always wanted for her. Maybe I should have tried to date years ago. It’s almost as if I was trying to hold this spot for Amber, should she change her mind, even though she couldn’t have been more clear about her wishes.