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Dylan looked scandalized by Cherrie’s words. “Oh, he is not the fath—”
I shot out my hand, lacing my fingers through hers and giving her a warning squeeze. “Sorry, my fiancée is a little intoxicated.”
Hey, might as well keep this lie going since I’d already spread it online.
Cherrie blinked fast. “It’s…eleven thirty in the morning?”
“Mimosa brunch. You don’t choose who you fall in love with.” I sighed.
I glanced around. The place looked like toddler heaven, with wooden shelves, toys and blocks, straw baskets laden with sensory toys, lots of drawings and art projects, and giant playground equipment.
“He’s just joking,” Dylan reassured in her best “me? I’m not mad at all” tone, digging her fingernails into my skin. “The truth is my fiancé is not Gravity’s real dad.” Pause. “I cheated on him with his best friend.” She shot me a satisfied smirk.
“That is true,” I said levelly. “My best friend is her older brother, by the way.”
Check. Mate.
Dylan paled. So did Cherrie. I didn’t know when exactly my need to out-crazy Dylan had overcome my need to secure Marshall’s investment, but I needed to turn this ship around quickly.
“Obviously”—I cleared my throat—“we’re just kidding. Grav isn’t biologically mine, but she is my daughter in every sense ofthe word. And we’re both on edge here, because the decision to enroll her in daycare is not an easy one. Up until now, she was watched by her grandmother and her mother, so this is all new territory for us.”
The relief on Cherrie’s face was immediate. “That is completely understandable. The adjustment period will be hard on everyone in the household. Well…why don’t I show you around?” She clapped her hands, pasting on a ridiculously happy face.
Gravity chose that moment to stir awake in my arms. She blinked, drowsy eyes taking in her surroundings, before realizing she was somewhere fun and wiggling out of my embrace.
“Slides!” she exclaimed, climbing onto a wooden ladder and sliding off a slide backward on her tummy.
Cherrie parked her chin over her curled fists, grinning bigger. “Oh, how wholesome.”
Wholesome, my ass. She didn’t know the side of Gravity I was privy to—the one that could eat seven extra-large pancakes and sing “Firework” in its entirety through a burp.
Cherrie gave us a tour of the facilities while Gravity trailed behind us, stopping every now and then to take advantage of the toys and the indoor playground. I kept Dylan’s hand clasped in mine. Both our palms were getting a little sweaty, but neither of us withdrew. It was a battle of wills, who would blink first, and I was determined to die glued to this woman’s hand to prove my point.
“Here is our art room, and there’s our splash pad and our indoor gymnastics. We offer dance, karate, yoga, Spanish, and art classes, included in the price.”
“This is great. She speaks some Italian, and we’ve been working on art too.” Dylan sounded breathless.
“It seems your daughter has taken a liking to our preschool, Miss Casablancas,” Cherrie observed when Gravity decided to show off her monkey-bar skills. “This is usually a good indication that a child is ready for school.”
“Honey, isn’t that amazing?” I brushed my lips over Dylan’s temple. The subtext was: “I win. I was right. She does need this. Eat a dick. Preferably mine.” I felt her stiffen at the gesture before forcing herself to relax.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Best news ever.”
The more Cherrie showed us around, the more it was obvious this place made Disney World look like Rikers Island.
The school was a goddamn theme park. The staff were enthusiastic and kind. Gravity jumped into one of the teaching assistant’s arms without a care in the world when the assistant offered her an applesauce pouch and a sticker.
I could tell Dylan was beginning to warm up to the idea when she asked Cherrie, “Can we do this part-time? Like, maybe three times a week to start with, so as not to overwhelm her?”
And you.
It was fascinating to me to watch a parent actually want to spend time with their kid. Mine had sent me by foot to knock on people’s doors for spontaneous playdates when I was as little as five just to get rid of me.
“Certainly, we can.” Cherrie nodded, frowning at an iPad in her hand. “Or, I should clarify, we normally can’t, since we’re at full capacity and committed to our current clientele, who always reenroll, but Jolene Marshall is my sorority pal, and she asked for this favor. I understand Daddy Rhyland here spoke to Bruce about you wanting to go back to school?” Cherrie smiled.
Dylan shot me a death glare. Completely off-topic, but I was willing to pawn my other Rolex and a kidney just to hear her call me Daddy Rhyland.
“I don’t want you to feel deceived,” Dylan answered Cherrie, her eyes still firing poisonous switchblades at me, “so I think you should know I’m not planning to enroll in college in the immediate future. It’s just a thought.”