TYLER

If I’d thought shopping with one woman was difficult, I was wrong.

Try shopping with three of them.

I sit outside yet another endless fitting room, holding at least ten different bags of all shapes and sizes. Pink and purple, fluffy and bright, shiny and bold—no matter what style, the only thing these bags do for me is steal my man-card.

It’s been difficult for me to focus on much of anything this shopping trip. After Maggie had disentangled herself at the apple orchard, we’d packed the girls into the car—trying desperately to keep the peaceful moments going between all parties—and headed to the mall.

The shopping trip thus far has been a whirlwind of Maggie leading the girls from one store to the next and trying on everything from shoes to tiaras. I’ve mostly nodded along and prepared a few standard responses. You look beautiful worked well until Jess noticed I’d recycled it at three different stores and snapped at me for not paying attention.

She isn’t wrong; my mind is occupied with the fleeting moments shared with Margaret at the apple orchard. What did that mean, she’d try? Had I hurt her so badly she couldn’t see the love I still have reserved solely for her? I’d laid my soul bare with the truth: I am falling fast and hard for Margaret Marshall. She might feel it’s too soon, but I can’t help it.

When I’d stepped foot into Harp’s Haven, I’d wondered if I’d see her. If I’d find Margaret married with kids, a happy little household that would torment me for years to come. In the years following our breakup, I’d blocked her out of my life on purpose.

I hadn’t kept tabs on her whereabouts, thinking it would make for a cleaner break on both ends. I’d hadn’t stepped foot back in town, and every time my mother tried to mention her over the phone, I’d shut the conversation down.

It hadn’t worked for a second. Probably, the best situation would’ve been for me to find Margaret happily married. That way, I couldn’t hurt her any more. But when I’d found her as a single parent like me, everything crashed back like a tornado. The feelings I’d banned resurfaced, hurtling over me and dragging me under with a vengeance.

I’d only realized the truth after seeing her: I have never stopped loving Margaret.

“Dad?” Jessica’s voice held a warning note to it. “What do you think? If you say: you’re beautiful, honey, one more time, I’m going to be upset.”

I surveyed Jessica, this time wearing a red dress. To me, it looked just like everything else she’d tried on. I struggled for a second, stammering with an appropriate response, but when I moved my glance to her face and saw the hope there, manifested in a bright smile, it wasn’t difficult to be sincere.

“I think that dress is you, Jess,” I say. “You have to buy it.”

“Maggie already bought it,” Jess says with a coy smile. “She said I needed to have it.”

“Well, you do,” I tell her, standing. The bags crinkle with the motion, tissue paper scratching every which way. “Now let me give Maggie a piece of my mind about buying you all of these things. I told her I’d pay for it.”

“Dad, no—” Jess grasps me hard and pushes me back. “Stay out, please,” she begs. “You can give her money later. I already told her you would.”

“But—”

“We’re running next door,” she says. “Please don’t come with us.”

I sit, stunned, as Jess runs back to Maggie’s side, tugging on her shirt and pointing to the bright, unicorn-vomit-themed store next door.

“Is this what it feels like to have a teenager?” I ask dully as Margaret steps outside the store to check on me. The girls are already buzzing over the mannequin in the window next door to us.

“Nah,” she says with a smirk. “This is what it’s like to have girls.”

“Does it ever get better?”

She gives me a squishy face, pointing at herself. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

I laugh, waving her on to the next store and huddling back against the railing. Despite my armload of bags, I can’t find an ounce of annoyance in my bones. I find myself watching Jess, lit up like a Christmas tree, as she holds one shirt after another up and waits desperately for Maggie’s opinion on it.

A single shake of the head or a nod from Margaret is enough to send Jessica into a tizzy of agreement.

It dawns on me that I’ve never seen Jessica this excited about shopping...ever. Her mother takes her now and again, but Jess has never been thrilled about going. For Anastasia, it’d simply been something to do until she had to return Jess to me.

And now that I think about it, Jessica usually didn’t come home with anything. I’d seen the bags in Anastasia’s hands when she dropped Jessica off, but Jess never seemed to acquire anything new. Those bags—none of them had ever belonged to Jess. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time.

I feel a burning behind my eyes, a new frustration building inside my chest, and set the bags down. I rub my temples, trying to keep calm. Even the few short hours Anastasia spent with our daughter weren’t about Jess—they were about Anastasia. I probably hadn’t noticed Jess’s lack of bags because I’d just been relieved she’d gotten time with her mother.

I watch Jess with a new perspective, seeing she’s positively thirsting for attention from Maggie. So much that Mila can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. While Jess tugs Maggie in one direction, Mila wanders off to look at sparkly shit in a different section entirely.

Jess is clinging to Maggie, and the image breaks my heart. Maggie is everything a mother should be—warm, loving, tender, selfless—and the fact that she’s spent about two hours with my daughter and has given her more attention and love than Anastasia ever has before, breaks me.

I fluctuate between violent bursts of frustration and wild despair. My fingers flex over the straps of the bags as I pull them back to my sides. I can’t force Anastasia to love Jessica. Normally, I’m confident in my resolve to do the best damn job I can raising Jess alone, but today, it’s feeling like it’s not enough.

By the time the girls are through, my arms are loaded with bags, and the smile on my face is a forced one. Inside, there’s a new heaviness. A new weight that I fear will never leave. I hadn’t known what Jessica was missing before. Now that my eyes have been opened, they’re impossible to close.

“Can I have a Cinnabun?” Mila asks, tugging on her mom’s arm.

“Sure,” I say absently, not noticing Maggie’s frown.

Jess is clutching Maggie’s other hand. “Cinnabuns are so unhealthy.”

“Be a kid for once,” Mila says. “Who cares?”

“I want to be healthy,” Jess says. “I want to live forever.”

“Me too, but Cinnabuns make me happy.”

There’s a fight breaking out beneath our noses, but I can’t seem to comprehend it, and neither can Maggie. She’s too busy watching me.

“Here,” I say, forking over some money to the girls. “Get whatever you want. Treat day on me. You, too, Jess.”

“Is everything okay?” Maggie murmurs as we settle in line behind the girls. “Did we shop for too long? I’m really sorry—you could’ve said something.”

“No,” I tell her, meaning it. “You were great. Really. Thank you for everything in there with Jess. She really loved it.”

“Oh, I had a blast,” Maggie gushes. “The girls didn’t fight once; they even got matching sweaters. Can you believe how good this day has been for them?”

She nudges me, but even her touch isn’t enough to shake the fog.

“Seriously, Tyler, are you okay?” She tenses, leaning closer. “Is this about before? I meant what I said—I really will think about it. It’s not that I don’t want to try, but I have Mila to think about, and—”

“I’m not upset,” I tell her. “At least, not about you. Thank you for today.”

“Okay,” she frowns. After a long pause, she adds, “You can talk to me about what’s bothering you if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” I offer her a sardonic sort of smile. “I’ll think about it.”