Chapter 64
Colby
I get down on a knee and smile at Beatrice at eye level. “May I have this dance, Bea Bop a Lula?”
Beatrice giggles and nods.
I press play on my selected song—“My Girl” by The Temptations—and pull Bea to the tops of my feet. As the old-school song plays, I dance around the room with Beatrice the same way I used to watch my dad dance with Kat. And my heart soars.
When the song ends, I pick up my nemesis and hug her to me tightly, and she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek without any prompting whatsoever.
“Thank you for the dance, little miss,” I say, my heart aching. “I loved it.”
“It’s a Daddy-Daughter Dance,” Beatrice says matter-of-factly.
“That’s right. We had our own little Daddy-Daughter Dance, just the two of us.”
Bea hugs me. “Daddy.”
My heart stops. Oh, fuck. Why didn’t I see that coming? “No, sweetie. I’m not your daddy. I love you like a daddy. But you should call me Colby or Bee, okay?”
Beatrice looks perplexed. “Daddy-dadda dance.” She pokes my chest. “Daddy.”
I feel like I’m having a heart attack. “No, honey,” I say evenly. “I’m Colby. I love you like a daddy. With all my heart and soul. Forever and ever. But you have a daddy in heaven.”
Now Beatrice looks mischievous. She grabs my cheeks in her little palms and nuzzles her tiny nose into mine. “Daddyyyyy.”
“Oh, boy,” I say, my heart exploding in my chest. “Now I’ve made it forbidden fruit for you, haven’t I?” I look toward the hallway, my heart pounding. God help me if Lydia overhears this conversation. “Hey, why don’t you call me Cheese, honey? That’d be funny, wouldn’t it? Or maybe Cheese Head?” I tilt my head from side to side and make a funny face, trying to sell it. “Look at me, I’m such a silly Cheese Head.”
But Beatrice ain’t no fool. She runs her hand along the stubble on my jaw and coos softly, “Daaaaaadddyyyy.”
Oh, shit. I suddenly feel like a felon. A very excited, gleeful, losing-my-mind felon. I shouldn’t feel elated right now. I know I shouldn’t. But tell that to my heart. “Dude,” I say. “Newman. Bumble Bea. Queen Bea. Bea Bop A Lula. Don’t get me into trouble with your mommy, okay? Please. We’re Bea-Bee, remember? You and me, kid. Because I’m Col-Bee. And you’re Bea-trice.”
Beatrice presses her finger into the cleft in my chin, flash-melting every molecule in my body. She whispers softly, “I love you, Daddy.”
That’s it. I’m toast. Gone. Done. Bury me. I love the sound of that and I can’t deny it. “I love you, too, my sweet baby girl,” I whisper. I close my eyes and nuzzle her little nose and breathe in the scent of the makeup on her beautiful little face. Oh, man, I’m being bad right now. But it feels so good.
“Daddy,” she coos, her little palm stroking my cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, Bea.”
I hear Lydia and Izzy in the hallway and suddenly snap out of my trance. “Crap.” I pull away from nuzzling Bea’s nose, panic descending on me. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you, honey. Seriously now, you’ve got to call me Colby or—”
“So how’d it go?” Lydia asks brightly, bounding into the room with Izzy and Ralph.
My mouth goes dry. I’m a cookie-thief caught red-handed with my hand groping the jar. “Great,” I choke out.
Lydia takes Beatrice from me and kisses her rouge-smeared cheek. “Was your Daddy-Daughter Dance with Colby everything you dreamed it’d be? Did you feel like a princess with your Prince Charming?”
Beatrice nods. “I had a Daddy-Dadda Dance.” She points at me. “With Daddy.”
My cheeks burst into flames. Oh, shit!
“Colby’s not your daddy,” Lydia says. “Remember? You’ve seen Daddy’s picture lots and lots of times.”
I choke out, “Yeah, I tried to explain—” But I’m cut off by a tug on my suit jacket.
“Ready, Colby?” Izzy asks. “We can’t be late.”
“Daddy!” Beatrice sings out, pointing at me, a smile dancing on her little rosebud mouth.
Oh my God. I feel like I’m about to choke on my tongue. I look at Lydia, a deer in headlights. “I told her,” I say lamely. “I told her to call me Colby or Bee or even Cheese.” Now I look at Bea. “Remember how I said you should call me Cheese Head, honey? Tell Mommy how I said that.” I do that same stupid thing with my head I did before, trying to sell Beatrice on the new nickname. But she doesn’t take the bait, again. Indeed, if a three-year-old can smirk, that’s what Beatrice is doing right now. And yet, I continue rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. “Or, hey,” I say. “How about you call me Cheese Doodle or Cheese and Macaroni? Cheese Puff? Cheese Fries? Do you like any of those?” But my comments elicit nothing but another smirk from my three-year-old nemesis. I return my gaze to Lydia, my heart in my mouth. “I tried to tell her, Lyd. I really did.”
Lydia touches my arm. “Honey, don’t stress it. Bea’s obviously enjoying the reaction she’s getting out of you.” She giggles. “And so am I. Oh my God, Colby.” She puts Beatrice down and Beatrice runs off with Ralph to her room without a backward glance at the “daddy” she just nonchalantly threw under the bus.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Lydia says, “Seriously, babe, if you stop giving her a freaked-out reaction, she’ll forget about it and move on. It’s classic Bea. She loves drama.”
“Rookie mistake,” I say sheepishly.
Lydia smiles. “No worries. Now go on and have fun, you two.” She kisses me on the cheek and whispers into my ear before pulling away, “Thank you for doing this for her. It means the world to her.”
“To me, too,” I whisper back.
Lydia returns to full voice. “Don’t keep Colby out too late tonight, peanut. He needs his sleep. He’s got his big fitness test first thing in the morning so he can get back to work next week. We want to make sure Colby is well rested so he passes his test.”
I wave Lydia off. “Bah. Izzy Gillespie and I can stay out all night. I did a run-through of the entire test with my buddy Dave the other day and knocked it out of the park. I’m back to my old self again and then some. I’ll slay it no matter how late I stay out at the ball.”
“Yeah, we’re going to stay up really late, Mommy,” Izzy says. She smiles defiantly. “The dance ends at eight.”
Lydia and I chuckle. Oh my God, this kid slays me.
“Yeah, Mommy, don’t wait up,” I say. “Izzy Pop and I are gonna party like rock stars. Come on, French Fry. We can’t be late.” I take Izzy’s little hand in mine and off we go toward the front door.
“Save some energy for when you get back home, Colby,” Lydia calls after me. “I want my turn to dance with you, too.”
I look over my shoulder at Lydia and smile when I see her lascivious expression. “It’s a date,” I say with a wink.
Out in the driveway, I get Izzy secured in the booster seat I bought this afternoon and say, “We’re going to have big fun, sweet pea. I can’t wait to redeem myself after the way I danced at the Climb & Conquer party on crutches. I’m going to show you some smooth moves tonight.”
Izzy laughs like I’ve just said the silliest thing in the world. “Oh, Colby. It’s not your dancing I care about.”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“What, then?”
I’m thinking Izzy is going to say it’s how much she loves me. That she’s thrilled to have the chance to spend some time alone with me. Or maybe even say something about how much she misses her real daddy. But she surprises me.
“I want all the girls to see how handsome you are and know you’re with me.”
I laugh, taken by surprise.
She continues, “When the other girls see you dancing with me, and how beautiful you are, they’re all going to wish you were their daddy.” She lets out a demonic little giggle that makes me guffaw. “But I’m going to tell them, ‘Nope. Sorry. You can’t have my Colby because he’s all mine.’”