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thirty-three

Olive

Olive

What would you say if I asked to steal your daughter for the day?

Lane

I would probably ask why

Olive

Girl’s day?

Lane

Are you asking to have a girl’s day with my daughter, Ballerina?

Olive

Yes

You know I’m obsessed with her

Lane

Believe me, the feeling is mutual

Sage will be ecstatic that you want to take her out

Olive

So you’re okay with it?

Lane

I trust you, Liv

I also think it’s really fucking cool that you want to spend time with my daughter

I can have her ready shortly if you want to grab her in a little bit

Olive

That’s perfect

I’ll see you soon

“What color are you thinking, sweet girl?” I ask, gesturing to the array of nail polishes Sage is gawking at.

“Purple!” she giggles.

I had a feeling that’s what she’d pick. Everyone who knows Sage knows how obsessed she is with purple. She’s literally in a purple sweater and glittery purple sneakers with a purple bow in her hair right now.

Girl sure knows what she likes.

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” I smile, squatting down beside her. “Do you think I should get purple, too, then? We can match!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Sage claps excitedly. “Owive match me!”

I can’t help but laugh as I stand back up and tell our technicians what we decided on—a beautiful lavender for both of us.

Like Lane told me this morning, Sage was absolutely ecstatic when I came to pick her up. I adore her, and I love that she enjoys having me around.

Lane seems to be just as excited, though. He likes to see us bonding and enjoying time together. And I love it, too. I’ll never be able to have my own biological children, but getting to spend time with Sage is enough to help ease that pain.

I do have one gripe with Lane right now, though.

He insisted on me taking the black card he thrust into my hand when I got to their place earlier.

He doesn’t know what I have planned at all, but he said he doesn’t care.

Said that I may be treating his daughter, but he can make sure he treats us both.

What is it with men and insisting they pay for everything?

We slip back into our seats to finish out our manicures as our nail techs come back over with the polish. Sage watches with rapt attention as her tech coats her tiny fingernails, and I can’t help but smile.

“Your daughter is adorable,” my tech says, causing me to whip my head around.

“Oh! She’s, uh, not my daughter. I’m… friends… with her father.”

“My apologies then,” she says, an embarrassed look on her face. “I just assumed since you’re here together.”

“We’re having a girl’s day,” I reply. “I’m just her ballet teacher.”

The technician gives me a disbelieving look. “I don’t think you’re just anything to her if you want my opinion. It’s clear as day that she loves being with you.”

“I love being with her, too,” I say softly. “She’s the sweetest little girl.”

She gives me a sweet smile before getting to work on my manicure.

And in the silence that follows, I let my mind wander.

I didn’t hate that she thought Sage was my daughter.

I actually really liked it.

She’s the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, and her father is one of my favorite people. I don’t hate the confusion at all because part of me wonders if that could be the truth one day.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I’ve always wanted to be a mother.

Maybe this is the way that happens for me.

I mull over that thought as our technicians finish up with us, and I use the card Lane insisted I take to pay.

After I help Sage get her jacket back on and then shrug on my own, she tugs on my hem to get my attention.

“What we do now, Owive?”

I bend down to her level. “I have something very fun planned, sweet girl. But we’re going to need to go shopping first. You’re going to need a very pretty dress.”

Sage shrieks and runs ahead of me, the tulle on the skirt of her dress flowing behind her.

I needed her to be dressed up for this part of our day. Since I knew what I had planned, I was already dressed for that part—a black turtleneck, skirt, and boots. Since Lane didn’t know, I needed to get something for Sage that wasn’t a sweater, jeans, and sneakers.

To my absolute expectation, Sage picked out a purple dress. Light purple velvet on the top with a white tulle skirt covered in purple butterflies. It’s very her and very perfect for the afternoon I have planned.

I couldn’t think of anything better than bringing Sage to her first real tea party.

Afternoon tea, really, but to a not-quite-three-year-old, it may as well be a tea party.

There’s a place in Greenwich Village that hosts a kid-friendly afternoon tea with plenty of kid-friendly options, including mac and cheese.

Picked this place for a reason.

Sage is nothing but smiles as we hang up our jackets and take our seats.

We’re sticking with a selection of decaf teas today because I don’t hate Lane, and I want to make sure his daughter won’t be up all night. And since Sage is still a toddler, I’ve picked some fruity teas for us to try.

The peach green tea and blackberry sage black tea are hits with both of us, and I quite enjoy the mango Ceylon black tea as well. Sage devours the mac and cheese, just like expected, and I have a few of their finger sandwiches.

Overall, it’s a delightful afternoon with my favorite little girl.

“So, Sage,” I ask, “have you had fun?”

“Yes!” she says happily, grinning from ear to ear. “Love tea parties.”

“I know you do, sweet girl,” I smile, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s why we came here!”

“Thank you,” she replies in the toddler way of not capturing all the letters, and my heart melts. Lane has told me before about how he worries he isn’t always enough for Sage, but he’s a natural. His daughter is polite and well-behaved, and there’s something to be said about his parenting in that.

“Of course, Sage. I’ve had so much fun with you today.”

She looks up at me, her hazel eyes meeting mine. She really does have Lane’s eyes. “We do ballet, too, Owive?”

I laugh lightly. “Not today, but we do have another lesson on Tuesday!”

Sage grins widely. “I like ballet. It fun.”

“I think so, too. Did you know I’ve been doing ballet since I was your age?”

“Owive ballwina!” she claps.

“Yes,” I chuckle. “I’m a ballerina, just like you, sweet girl. And you’re already so good.”

She looks at me with bright eyes. “I good?”

“Very good. I love watching you learn. So does my mom.”

“Your mommy?”

“Yes,” I smile. “Eileen is my mom.”

“Eiween!” Sage’s excitement is palpable as she realizes her other favorite woman is my mother. “You do ballet with Eiween?”

I set my hand on top of hers, leaning in close. “She taught me everything I know. I’m a ballerina just like she’s a ballerina.”

“And I ballwina, too!”

“Exactly!” I chime, rubbing the back of her hand. “You’re the perfect little ballerina.”

“Daddy ballwina?”

I can’t hold back my laughter as I imagine Lane attempting a pirouette. “No, your daddy doesn’t do ballet. But I bet we could teach him.”

“Now,” she says, pushing herself off her chair and standing up. “I want teach him now.”

I smile as I get up to join her. “You want to go home and teach your dad ballet now?”

“Yes!”

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s get you home and teach your daddy.”

Sage struts ahead of me, the sassy girl already on a mission to get home.

I don’t think Lane is going to be prepared when we get back.

But I can’t deny the fact that I wouldn’t mind watching him attempt some of these bends while I watch…