So he continues, “She got all excited when I called her a kid in front of him.”
I manage to move robotically and make my way to the fridge, snatching my own beer. It’s probably best we change subjects because I have no idea what to say about what just happened. Clearing my throat, I respond, “She’s got good taste. He’s a cute guy.”
“What?” Paul snorts. “You’re not bothered by this?”
Rolling my eyes, I twist the cap off my beer and take a quick sip. “Why would I be?”
Paul shrugs, his expression changing with his thoughts. “I don’t know. Because she’s our little girl and he’s . . . a guy . . .”
I give him a pointed look, waiting for the real issue to come out.
“With a penis,” he finishes.
I can’t help the laughter that explodes from my mouth. “Boys do have those pesky things, don’t they?”
“Are you laughing at me?”
I look up to the ceiling in thought. “Yes,” I chuckle. “Yes, I am.”
Paul purses his lips in annoyance.
“It’s not like they’re doing anything. There’s nothing wrong with her having a crush on an older guy.”
“Wow,” he surmises. “I thought I was the cool parent.”
“You are,” Neena chimes in as she enters the kitchen. “What are we talking about?”
“Wait. Why am I not the cool parent?” I fake offense.
Neena shrugs. “You’re just cool in a different way,” she replies, stealing a cucumber from the salad on the counter, just like Paul did a few moments before. I’m starting to see she’s a lot like him.
Paul does an obnoxious, silent mocking laugh, directed at me. I flip him the bird when Neena isn’t looking. “You know, if you want to be cool like me, I could give you some lessons.”
I pretend to gag. “Thanks, but I’m good on my own.”
“I wouldn’t charge much,” Paul continues.
“Is that so?” I ask as I slightly pull the oven door open and peek inside.
“What should my fee be, Neena?” he asks.
When I turn back, Neena has her mouth twisted in thought. Then her brows perk up. “A date.”
I’m holding my breath as Paul and I awkwardly make eye contact. I cannot have her thinking we will date. “I’ll make you a cake,” I finally answer.
They both twist their mouths. Neena opens her mouth to speak, but for fear she’ll mention Paul and I dating again, I speak before she can.
“Your dad wants to beat up Mills because you like him,” I announce nonchalantly.
Cue matching father-daughter facial expressions. They both look like they want to die of embarrassment.
“I didn’t say beat him up,” Paul clarifies, looking to me. “And thanks for throwing me under the bus, by the way.”
I raise my hand and pull down twice, bellowing out an obnoxious, “Honk-honk.”
“I don’t like him,” Neena protests, her face bright red.
“There’s nothing wrong with you liking him, Neena,” I clarify. “Paul is just having a father moment. This is classic.”
Neena smiles faintly as she meets Paul’s gaze. “Please don’t say anything to him.”
Paul throws his hands up. “I never said I was. Your mother is embellishing. Big time.”
Her smile slowly fades and she plops down in her seat at the kitchen table. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” she sighs sadly. “I’m just the ugly sick girl. He’d never like me.”
As a mother, who loves her child so fiercely, and who sees all of her beauty, inside and out, that statement just crushed me. On instinct, I move to approach her, comfort her, but Paul holds his hand up, stopping me. I want to be angry with him for it, but when he kneels down in front of her, my heart melts a little.
“Look at me, Neena.” When she does, he tells her, “You are so damn beautiful. I know I’m your father and you think I’m just telling you this, but it’s true. Inside and out, kid. Beautiful. I’ve been to a lot of places, seen a lot of faces, and none in this world are as beautiful as yours.”
“I have no hair. Guys like girls with hair.”
“Guys like girls that are awesome, and you’re clearly that. Even without hair, you have killer eyes, like your dad,” he adds with a wink, “and you’ve got your mother’s head-turning smile.”
He knows damn well she has his awesome smile.
Standing, he looks down at her. “And Mills is a lucky bastard if a girl like you wastes even a second thought on him.”
Neena nods and perks up. It’s not her style to feel sorry for herself, and I wonder if maybe she’s starting to get depressed. The doctor gave us a prescription for anti-depressants, just in case. I just didn’t think she’d need them. And maybe I’m misreading her reaction just now.
“Can we eat?” she asks. “I kind of want to go to bed early tonight.”
“Ten minutes, sweetheart.”
As we eat dinner, Paul and I try hard to keep things light, to make her laugh. She works just as hard to keep up, but it’s not difficult to see her heart isn’t in it. When she kisses us good night, I hold her and squeeze her tight.
“I’m okay, Mom. Really. I’m just tired.”
Letting her go, I bend and kiss her forehead. No fever. I try to hide my sigh of relief, but she snorts and shakes her head.
“No fever.”