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“I love your place,” he says, turning to look at me and I can see he is genuine. “It’s veryyou.”
I wonder what he means by that, but I don’t have a chance to ask because Josie is practically speed-crawling toward him.
“Mah-cooooo!” she squeals in delight.
“Hey, Josie girl,” he says, his voice warm as a smile spreads across his face.
He kneels to the floor and she immediately pulls herself up to face him, a little unsteady on her feet. She grabs his cheeks and I stand in awe at the way they look at each other. It’s only for a few seconds, but I can see their bond as clear as day. I can see the love he has for her. I know this was the right choice.
“I got you something,” he says, showing her the book with dancing penguins on the cover.
She claps with delight and plops down on his thighs, almost knocking him over. He laughs and looks up at me as if wondering if it’s okay. I smile, hoping that says it all.
“Let me help you with that,” I say, taking the bottle of wine from his hand as he settles into a seated position right there in the hallway. I walk to the kitchen and listen as he begins to read the book out loud. I peek over the counter to see them. It’s the picture-perfect moment and I resist the urge to take a photo on my phone. Instead, I memorize it because it’s something I don’t want to forget.
I open the oven to check on the casserole that’s been baking since I prepared it after getting home from work. The smell of broccoli and cheese waft toward me, making my stomach grumble. It’s just about done. I reach up and pull two wine glasses from a nearby cabinet and uncork the wine that Marco brought. It’s vintage, and probably costs more than my rent.
“Thanks for the wine,” I call out from the kitchen.
“Of course. Do you need any help in there?” he calls back.
“No, I’ve got it. You two just hang. Dinner’s almost done.”
“It smells delicious!”
I smile to myself. It feels so weird to be talking to him like this, so casually about dinner as he plays with our daughter. It’s almost like it’s always been this way, but the flutter in my stomach reminds me this is new. Exciting. For Josie, I remind myself. He’s here for Josie. That’s how it should be.
I take a long sip of wine before taking both glasses to the dining room table that’s already set with plates and silverware. Marco has Josie in his arms and walks toward me.
“How was the book, Josie girl?” I ask.
“Pe-gin,” she says.
“That’s right,” says Marco proudly.
I realize every word she says is new for him. A little milestone he gets to witness. I suddenly feel guilty about the milestones he’s missed. Rolling over. Sitting up. Crawling. Eating solids. Saying her first word. I resented him for it, but now I resent myself for it. I’m the reason he missed them.
“Can you get her in her highchair?” I ask.
“Sure, I can give it a whirl,” he says.
I hold back a laugh as he looks at the high chair like it’s some sort of torture device. I head into the kitchen and pull the casserole from the oven. When I bring it back to the dining table, Marco is buckling Josie in, and she’s not putting up a fight like she sometimes does with me. I’m annoyed and impressed at the same time.
I set the casserole on the large hot pad in the center of the table. Marco settles in the seat next to Josie and looks at the steaming dish.
“Wow. That looks delicious,” he says.
I wonder if he’s just being nice. This man dines at the finest restaurants in the city—the world. I doubt my casserole holds a candle to the five-course meals he’s used to. I grab a serving spoon and scoop a pile onto his plate. I then serve Josie’s in a plastic bowl, setting it aside to let it cool, followed by my own plate.
“Hot,” I say, pointing to Josie’s bowl when I see she’s looking at me impatiently. I blow on her food to cool it down.
“It’s safe for her to eat?” asks Marco curiously.
“Mhmm.” I nod. “The noodles are soft, and I cut the broccoli and chicken really small.”
“Right. I keep forgetting she’s not an infant…”
I smile. He has so much to discover about his daughter.