Ah, shit.
Stick a fork in me, I was done. Completely, positively, irrevocably in love with him. That too-full feeling closed in on my heart, and my eyes pricked. I turned to face the coat closet just to catch my breath. Oh God, I wanted to keep him.
Bundled and packed, we set off on our zoo adventure. Or as Bailey called it, the “phoooo” with a sprayed exclamation point. I would not be sad when she learned a new sound.
The Lincoln Park Zoo was packed with families. Today was one of the first days of the year that we could spend time outdoors without freezing our fingers off. We wandered over to the lions—“Kitty!”—and then to the seal enclosure. The seals did tricks: clapping, diving, and barking, but there were too many people lined up against the railing to see.
“Up,” Bailey demanded, tugging on a lock of my hair.
“No.” I shook my head.
Colin looked at me in question.
“She wants to sit on my shoulders,” I explained. “I tried that only once. It was the Fourth of July, and she was wrapped around me like a cobra”—I mimed a choking motion with my free hand—“and then a BOOM went off”—I mimicked the struggle—“and, well, never again.”
“I can try,” he said.
I looked at him dubiously. Not that the guy wasn’t tough, but he’d never seen her go full turbo. As if sensing her impending triumph, Bailey wriggled furiously.
“Fine.” I handed her over with a sigh.
He lifted her and—BAM!—tiny elbow to the eye.
“I’m sorry,” I said, though I couldn’t sound too sorry. I had warned him.
“She does have an arm on her,” he said but managed to wrangle her onto his shoulders.
Bailey squealed in what I guessed was both excitement and fear of her new height. Her legs crossed tightly around his neck, and her arms wrapped around his forehead, leaving only a slit for his eyes.
I bit my lip to avoid laughing. “Having fun yet?”
“I’m okay,” he wheezed.
He wasn’t the only one. Around us a sea of men held children on their shoulders or in their arms. Fathers, one could assume. Though in our case they’d be wrong. How many of these men were the biological fathers of these children, and how many were just father figures? Because that’s what Colin was to Bailey, a father figure, even if it had only been for a short time.
This was a side of men that had been unfathomable during my monthly date nights at the club. How many of these men had once been, or even now were, the guys at the club? How many of them were like Andrew, with a horrible mistake in their past? For that matter, did Colin have a mistake like that in his?
There was nothing for it but to wonder. The smiling faces and caring gestures painted only happy portraits. I wanted to believe in it. Here, amid the laughter and shouts of children, I almost could.
Before the show was over, Bailey grew fidgety, and we wandered over to the children’s section. She let out a shriek. I followed her reaching hands to the carousel.
With a groan, I wondered how I could get out of this without a screaming fit. Even if I let her have a ride, she’d only want to go again and again.
It turned out that Colin had the answer to that. When he left to go get tickets, I figured he’d get two, one for me and one for her. He came back with twenty.
“What are we going to do with twenty tickets? That’s ten rides.”
He shrugged. “If she doesn’t want to, we can save some for later.”
Of course she wanted to. By the third ride I was ready to throw up, so Colin offered to take her. While I had firmly insisted she pick an animal to ride and stick with it, Colin helped her bounce from horse to zebra to otter in the minutes before the ride started. She chattered endlessly to him while he danced attendance.
Good Lord, was that how he and I looked together? For all his trouble, that man needed to get laid way more often.
They went round and round and round, until both Colin and Bailey had turned a sickly green. Turns out when you gave her exactly what she wanted, she didn’t want it anymore. She was her mother’s daughter.
Two hours and a detour through the petting zoo later, it was past time to leave. Despite the brisk air, the smell of sweat and tiredness trailed us. Bailey was coated with sticky residue from a slush drink and peppered with salt from a soft pretzel. I might as well have tried to scrub off the city’s graffiti for all the good the baby wipes did.
Bailey cried all the way to the car. Actually the parking lot was filled with screaming children. There was probably no better torture device invented for children than a superfun outing. No matter what, it always ended in tears.
Chapter Twelve
At home I gave her a rushed dinner and warm bath. And the very good, somewhat unexpected benefit to the whole excursion was that she fell asleep almost immediately. I was still gross and exhausted, but it was freeing, nonetheless, to have her down so early.