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thirty-five

Lane

Olive

Is it weird if I say I want to come over and dance with Sage?

Lane

Ballerina, come spend as much time with my daughter as you want

You know we love having you around

Olive

I come for Sage

But you’re not too bad

Lane

You’ve got jokes, I see

Olive

I told you you’d have to keep up with me, old man

Lane

You won’t be calling me old later tonight…

The sound of laughter reverberates off every wall of my penthouse. Since Olive got here a little bit ago, Sage has been attached to her hip. Seems Liv earned herself a new shadow.

And I don’t think she minds it one bit as I see her spinning around the living room with my daughter.

I can’t fully explain how I feel when I watch them together. Since Sage was born, I’ve longed for a connection with somebody, but I didn’t think I’d ever find it. Who would want to settle down with the man who slept with half of New York City?

But seeing Olive here with us, loving on my daughter as if she’s her own?

I feel complete.

I’m still getting to know her, but the more I learn, the further I fall. Olive Finch is fucking special, and I know she’s exactly what my daughter and I need.

Sage suddenly shouts, “I need pee!” before running off like a bat outta hell on her way to the bathroom. I throw my head back and laugh as Olive comes to stand beside me.

“I don’t think you’ve taken your eyes off me, Hotshot,” she chuckles, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, showing off the bare skin exposed through her slouchy sweatshirt.

“Why would I want to?” I smile. “You’re very fun to look at. And fuck, I love watching you with my daughter.”

“She’s the best,” Olive sighs, a faraway look on her face.

I take her hand in mine and lightly squeeze. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

She takes a deep breath but refuses to meet my eyes. “Yeah.” Her voice is so soft, so full of grief. “I know it’s been five years since I found out about my infertility, but I still struggle to accept it. I’ve always wanted kids.”

“Well, you have my daughter,” I reply assuredly.

“Sage isn’t my daughter, though.”

I place my palm on her cheek and turn her face until I finally see those deep, green eyes. “Remember, Liv. Family doesn’t have to be blood. Sage is my only blood family member.”

“That’s just it, though,” she says. “You already have a blood family member. I can’t imagine you could ever actually see yourself with somebody who can’t give you more of that.”

Her words are honest and vulnerable, but there are just a few that cling to my soul. “Do you see yourself with me, Ballerina?”

Olive’s cheeks blush, and she gasps. “I-I’m just saying…”

“You’re just worrying. Worrying that I won’t want you because you can’t have kids.

” I kiss her gently. “Baby, you fail to realize that I don’t care at all about that.

If Sage is the only child I have, then that’s fine by me.

She’s incredible. And for the record, I absolutely see myself with you, kids or no kids. ”

“You do?” she replies breathlessly.

I chuckle. “I thought that was obvious by now. I still don’t want to rush you, but it’s pretty clear that I like you, Olive. I’m not ashamed to admit that.”

“You’re not ashamed to admit anything,” she laughs. “You’re the most shameless person I know. And that’s saying something because Violet is my sister.”

“I’m just going to take that as a compliment,” I smile while she laughs. When Sage comes bounding back into the room, I scoop her up into my arms and settle her on my hip. “There’s my Lovebug!”

She giggles while hugging me. “I here, Daddy!”

“What do you think, Sage?” I ask, looking at my daughter’s sweet smile. “Should we have dinner soon?”

“Yes!” she claps. “Owive have dinner, too?”

I turn to Olive with a grin, just one corner of my mouth curved up. “What do you say?”

Olive smiles and shakes her head. “As if there’s anywhere else I’d want to be.”

I barely have Sage in her pull-up before she sprints out of the bathroom. “Owive!”

I hear Olive’s sweet laughter from the living room, where she waited while I gave Sage her bath. “Hey, sweet girl!”

Drying off my hands on the towel Sage left behind, I stand myself up and walk out to join them. And I just take in the scene of my still dripping-wet daughter cuddled on Olive’s lap.

“Come on, Sage,” I say sternly. “You know what time it is.”

“No bedtime!” she shrieks, burying her face against Olive’s chest.

“Yes, bedtime. You need to get some sleep.”

And Daddy wouldn’t mind some alone time with your ballet teacher.

Olive looks at me and smiles softly. “I can carry her to her bedroom if that would help.”

“That would be perfect.”

Surprisingly, Sage doesn’t argue as Olive stands up and positions her on her hip.

Once she’s settled, she follows me down the hall to Sage’s bedroom, walking over to the dresser before setting her down on the ground.

“Here you are, Sage!” She turns to me now.

“All yours now, Hotshot. I’ll let you two be. ”

Sage quickly throws her arms around Olive’s leg, clinging on for dear life. “No weave! Owive stay!”

Olive glances at me warily before bending down to my daughter’s level. “Bedtime is just for you and Daddy, sweet girl. But I can tell you good night now.”

“No,” Sage pouts. “Owive stay.”

I shove my hands into the pockets of my joggers and shrug. “I don’t mind if you stay, Liv.”

She looks at me in surprise. “Won’t that mess up your routine?”

I give her a reassuring smile. “Our routine will be fine. You can stay. If you want to, that is.”

“Of course,” she replies, trying to hide her grin. “I’d love to help.”

Sage bounces and claps, reveling in her little victory.

Olive works with me to get Sage ready for bed. She helps her brush her teeth. She dresses her in her favorite pair of purple dino pajamas. And she gets the honor of reading Llama Llama Red Pajama, Sage’s current favorite book. I have the entire thing memorized because I’ve read it so many times.

When it comes time to actually lay her down in her bed, Sage asks Olive to do it instead of me.

And I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy when she does.

My girl loves Olive.

She finally has a woman in her life who isn’t one of my friends.

Technically, Olive and I are friends, but that’s not my end game. Anybody who sees me with her can see that.

I’m so fucking smitten with the woman my daughter adores, and I want to share these moments with her.

I want to keep sharing them with her, too.

Potentially forever.

And as I watch Olive sitting on the ground, hand grasping my daughter’s through the wooden slats of her bed rail, forever feels a little less out of reach.