A/N: I was so not wanting to start another story, but I couldn't help myself! I just could not stop thinking about if Gabi had said 'yes' to Will when he found out she was pregnant and said he'd marry her.
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"Gabi, can you please give it a rest?" She's blathering on about a new pair of jeans she wants to buy, but I can't handle her right now. She glares at me.
"Yikes. Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Hmm, in order to 'wake up' it means that I would have actually had to sleep, and 'wrong side of the bed' implies that I made it to either side last night. Neither of which are true."
"You are such a good Dad, Will," she says too sweetly. And you could be a good Mom if you tried harder, too, Gabi. But I keep that part to myself.
"So, you are staying home with her today?" I start cleaning up the living room where Arianna's toys have completely taken over. Tossing a couple cars and a doll into the toy box, I give her one of my you-should-know-better looks.
"I am. She was still running a fever this morning, Gabi, so she can't go to school or day care. Hopefully one more day home will allow those antibiotics to kick in. I don't know if you heard it, but her cough is just awful. That's what kept her – and me – awake all night."
Avoiding my eyes, Gabi starts to head down the hallway. "Thanks. I'm going to go in and tell her good-bye."
I step in front of her. "Really? She just finally got to sleep, Gabi, and she needs the rest. Can you not wake her up - please?"
"Fine. I'll just go then. I've got to get to work anyway. Give her a kiss for me, okay?" She's short with me because I keep her from waking Arianna. She heads to the door without looking back.
"Sure, Gabi. See you later," but she's already closed the door.
I go back to my tidying, trying to keep quiet enough that I don't wake Arianna. The last two nights have been hell. Between running a fever with severe chills, Arianna has hardly stopped coughing since Sunday night. The antibiotic doesn't appear to be working yet, but she did just start taking it yesterday. And Gabi seems to have no trouble sleeping through the crying and coughing fits of her 5 year-old daughter. I don't understand that. Aren't mothers supposed to have these highly tuned senses when it comes to their children? Like being able to hear their cry from a block away or smell chocolate on their breath when they ate it without permission? Whatever this phenomenon is, it doesn't apply to Gabi.
Ever since our baby was born I have been the primary caretaker. I was up for middle of the night feedings, I was there when she started crawling, walking and said her first word, which just happened to be "dada". Gabi couldn't make it to Arianna's first school Christmas program, but I was there, in the front row, getting it all on video. When she's sick it's usually me who takes her to the doctor, gives her medication and stays up with her through rough nights. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. Would I do anything differently? Absolutely, yes. Despite my noble intentions and our responsible, yet misguided decision to marry, that has been our biggest mistake. And I would take it back if I could. I would un-propose to Gabi in a heartbeat. That is why we've filed for divorce.
"Daddy," a little voice is in my ear. I open my eyes and there stands my sweet daughter, decked out in her favorite dress and red converse shoes. "Wake up, Daddy. I feel better. Can we go to McDonald's for lunch?" I must have dozed off. I rub my eyes and can't help but smile at her eagerness.
"Woah, little girl. Just a few hours ago you were running a fever and couldn't stop coughing. That's why you are home from school and I'm not at work." I put the back of my hand to her forehead and am surprised by the normal warmth I feel. For the last couple of days I've been afraid to do this knowing that she would be burning up. "Open your mouth for me, aaahhhhh..." I demonstrate for her.
"Daddy, I know how," she puts an annoyed hand on her hip. She looks twice her age when she does this, but I can't help but find it completely and utterly adorable.
Chuckling, "okay then show me," I command, and she rolls her eyes and opens her mouth wide. Her throat looks good - no redness like earlier this morning. "Well, I'm impressed. The medicine the doctor gave you yesterday must be working finally. But I don't want to push it, Arianna. Can we just stay here and watch a movie? I'll make you a sandwich?"
Opening her big blue eyes and batting her eyelashes, she implores me, "Nooo, please, Daddy. We can come back later and watch a movie."
"What's gotten into you girlie? Are you antsy from being cooped up in this house with me for three days?" I pretend to pout as she nods her head dramatically.
"Yes, Daddy. I need some fresh air," she says to me as she knows I'm just about to give in to her. She needs fresh air? She's picked that up from her Mom. Gabi frequently uses it as an excuse to leave the apartment...and leave me and her daughter behind.
"Well, gosh, who am I to turn down my beautiful daughter's request for fresh air?" She giggles at me and starts to jump up and down in excitement. "First, though, we need to run a brush through that hair. It's a rat's nest from you laying on it for days."
"Awww, Daddy, I think my hair is fine. You always hurt me when you brush my hair." Her arms are crossed in front of her. This is true, though. But only because Arianna fights me like crazy anytime I attempt to wash, brush, or untangle her thick mane of dark curls. They are gorgeous and when tamed, make her look like a fairy tale princess. Right now, the mess is so unruly, I'm afraid I won't even get the brush through it.
I make her a deal. "If you really want to go out, we need to fix your hair. Let me use some de-tangler spray, and I'll pull it back into a ponytail with a big bow, how does that sound?"
Sighing melodramatically at me, she relents. "Fine. But make it quick. I'm hungry."
An hour and a half later, we are on our way back home when Arianna interrupts our sing-a-long with "Payphone", one of our favorite songs on the radio. "Daddy?" she meets my eyes in the rear view mirror.
"Yes, dear?"
"Sometime can we do coffee?" My laughter is loud and long. This she has picked up from me. I never knew just how funny it would sound coming from a 5 year old until now. "Daddy stop laughing at me. It's not nice." She's pouting again.
"You're right, it's not nice. I'm sorry." I flash her an apologetic smile followed by a my best crazy face: eyes crossed, tongue out, nose wiggling. After getting her to crack a smile, I ask," what if we go do coffee right now?"
"For reals, Daddy?" Where does my child come up with this stuff? I switch on the right turn signal and head for Horton Square. There's a great coffee shop there I've been visiting for the last few months. It's comfortable, got great drinks and a super cute barista. Just then I wonder to myself if I really want to take Arianna to this place that's been solely mine, where I go to escape. What's the cute guy behind the counter going to think of me when I walk in with her?
"What am I doing?" I ask myself quietly, shaking my head. He doesn't even know that I exist. So, I'll just be any other customer to him.
"Did you say something, Daddy?" Arianna is already back to reading her book. Her legs dangle over her booster seat, and she rests a hand underneath her chin, as if deep in thought. She is so beautiful. And she is getting to be so grown up. I can't believe that 5 years has gone by already. I can never spend enough time with Arianna.
"Nope, honey," I pull the car into the parking lot. "We're here. Let's go do coffee." She's out of the backseat before I know it, grabbing my hand and dragging me through Horton Square. "It's just around the corner, Arianna," directing her to the 'Common Grounds' sign on the door at the end of the sidewalk. "After you," and I let her into the shop in front of me.
"Daddy, let's sit at this table!" and she selects one in the back with two red chairs. I know why this has to be the one.
"Hmmmm...I wonder why you've chosen this table? Is it because it's near the bathroom? Or maybe it's the pretty picture on the wall behind it? Or maybe the green candle on the table?" I tease her, knowing exactly why my blue-eyed beauty chose this table.
Giggling, wrinkling her nose up like I do, "No!" And she plops heavily into one of the cushioned chairs. "It's cuz' they are red, Daddy! You know it's my favorite color," her tone turns serious and I feign surprise, my mouth open wide and hands in the air.
"Red is your favorite color?" and I take a look at my daughter dressed from head to toe in that very color. Her dress has big red polka-dots all over it, her leggings are the same shade as the dots and topping off the outfit are her very dirty, but still clearly red, converse tennis shoes.
"Dad-dy," she scolds me, giving me a stern look much beyond her 5 years. "I've told you a million times that red is my favorite color."
"Sor-ry," I try to mimc her tone. "Can I get my pretty lady a hot chocolate with whipped cream?"
"But I thought we were doing coffee?" she asks sincerely.
"Sweetie, I'm not sure you will like coffee. More grown-ups drink it than kids. But if you want to try it, I'll get a cup and you can taste mine, how does that sound?" I think I am being generous offering my 5 year old caffeine in the afternoon.
Arianna's bottom lip pops out a little, and I can tell she's not happy with my suggestion. "You said we could do coffee, Daddy, so that's what I want." Choosing not to fight her on this, I tell her to stay put to save our spot while I get drinks.
The really cute barista with the brown eyes that make me melt is working the bar. He lifts his head up from whatever he's working on to flash me one of the most spectacular smiles I've ever seen. "What can I get you?" he asks giving me his full attention.
"Coffee," I manage, not able to stop staring at his perfect white teeth framed by smooth, delicious-looking lips. He says something to me but like an idiot, I am lost in my own private brown-eyed wonderland that I don't hear a word. "Wh-what?" I stammer awkwardly.
"Do you need room for cream?" he repeats, slightly amused.
"Um, no, thanks. Just straight up. And I need two cups, please." I'm sure Arianna won't be able to handle a basic, black coffee, without milk or sugar.
"Two? Are you meeting somebody?" he inquires, and my stomach does a couple cartwheels at his question.
"Nope. This is for that little girl over there, who is 5 going on 25, I think. She's determined we 'do coffee' and that means she must drink a cup to make it official." I smile, turning my head towards the back of the shop where she is squirming but still patiently waiting for me.
"Oh, I see. It's a coffee date then," and he grins at her as she turns in her chair and meets his eyes. "She is a cutie." He grabs another mug and starts to fill it, "this one straight, too?" And if I'm not mistaken, he puts an unusual emphasis on the word 'straight'. Am I that obvious? Am I wearing a sign that says 'desperately seeking hot coffee guy'? Thinking I must be reading into things, I nod and head back to our table with two fresh cups of coffee.
"Here you go, Arianna. It's going to be hot, so you can blow on it or let it sit for a while to cool off." She puts her nose to it and takes a breath in. Grimacing, she quickly looks across the table at me to see if I've noticed. I have, but I look away, pretending to enjoy the artwork on the walls.
"Can we play checkers?" she asks and before I answer, she is up and across the room where the games are stacked. Bringing checkers over to us, she starts setting up, of course passing the black ones to me. Ten minutes, three double jumps and a board full of kinged red pieces later, I am about to surrender my last man standing when Mr. Brown Eyes stops at our table.
"Can I get either of you a refill?" he asks, smirking at the barely touched cup of coffee in front of Arianna.
"No, I decided I'm not in the mood for coffee today," Arianna speaks to him sincerely. I'm trying very hard to stifle a laugh. "Could I have hot chocolate instead? With whipped cream?" I should have just ordered that in the first place.
"Arianna," I ask, giving her my best serious-Dad look. "Are you going to drink this one or just let it sit like the coffee you insisted I order for you?"
"Daddy, I'll drink it, I promise. The coffee was just too smoky tasting," she finished and brown eyes and I cracked up. She must have been listening to some other customers discuss coffee while I was up front.
"Smoky, hah?" Sonny plays along, "with a slight black cherry top note, right?"
Meeting his eyes and nodding, my daughter gives him a pretty convincing "yes" before he heads off, chuckling, to make her hot chocolate. Within a couple of minutes he is back with a very tall cup of hot chocolate, complete with lots of whipped cream and my mug, refilled with straight-up black coffee.
"Wow! Thank you," she may be spoiled, but I have taught her manners. "My name is Arianna, what's yours?" she asks as she delves into the mound of whipped cream starting to melt and drip down the sides of the mug.
"Arianna, nice to meet you. You have a very pretty name," he continues to watch her as the whipped cream is now on her cheeks, nose and most of her fingers. She'll definitely need a bath tonight. "My name is Sonny."
She gazes up at him like he's told a funny joke, "what? Sunny is your name? Like in the sky?"
"Good question. It sounds like that, but I spell it S-O-N-N-Y." My daughter pretends to understand and goes right back to her chocolaty drink.
"Sonny, hi, I'm Will," and I reach out a hand to him. His fingers wrap around mine, and I am already picturing those fingers exploring beyond my hands. There I go again. Wishful thinking.
"Will, nice to meet you and your...daughter? niece?" he asks waiting for me to fill in the blank.
"Daughter," I say without hesitation. Here we go. I expect now to get 'the look'; you know the one that's equal parts shock and pity. It's the one I always get from people, especially guys, when they meet Arianna. But the look never comes, and I am pleasantly surprised.
"Well, Arianna and Will, enjoy your coffee date. I'll be here for the next hour if you need anything else, okay?"
"Okay," she says and I remind her to be polite.
"What do you need to say to Sonny?" you hope she'll make you proud.
"Thank you Sonny. I really like your shoes."
Both Sonny and I look down immediately at his feet. Red converse tennis shoes peek out from under his jeans. As soon as he sees what the two of them have in common, he's fist-bumping with my daughter, bragging about their shared fabulous taste.
Just then the door to the coffee house opens and who walks in? No one other than Gabi, my wife for not too much longer and mother of my child. Although she hasn't been my 'wife' in the true sense of the word since our oops night when Arianna was conceived.
"Mommy!" Arianna yells and runs to her. Several guys are following Gabi into the shop. I admit that she is beautiful, that's undeniable. But the attraction was never there, no matter how hard I tried. And we've been living like roommates since our honeymoon.
"Well, Arianna Grace, what are you doing here? You are supposed to be at home resting?" Gabi looks at me for an explanation.
"I am feeling much better, Mommy, so Daddy took me to lunch and now we're doing coffee," she says proudly, lifting her mug as proof.
"That's neat, sweetheart, but Mommy is getting coffee to go so she can get back to work." She gives the two other guys a knowing look and they order their beverages to go.
"Well, you two, I'll see you later." They are off just as quickly as they arrived.
"Do you want to stay here, honey, or would you like to go back and watch a movie?"
"I think I'd like to stay here. Unless Sonny can come back and watch the movie with us?" My daughter absolutely floors me sometimes. How did she know that I've been daydreaming about this guy for weeks? Can she sense how I feel? Maybe hear my heart beating at twice its normal pace? She's precocious and adorable and I love her more than anything in the world.
"Oh honey, I'm sure Sonny appreciates the invitation, but he has to work." So, let's just stay so I can keep watching him as he works.
"That's very nice of you, Arianna, but your Dad is right, I have to work. You'd think since I'm the boss, I could give myself some time off, but we're kind of short-staffed this afternoon. Thank you, though." He quickly moves on to clear the next table.
As Arianna and I are getting ready to leave, I return our mugs to the front counter, hoping to have one last chance to talk to Sonny. "I got this," he says to a co-worker who was heading up front to help me. "Can I get you anything to go?" he asks, taking the empty mugs from me.
"No, we are good. Thank you." I'm still standing there even though we've established that I don't need anything else.
"You have a beautiful daughter, Will. She's got your wife's hair, but the piercing blue eyes are all yours."
I'm taken aback by a couple of things he's just said. "Ex-wife," I correct him, "or at least very soon to be," feeling like I need to tell him that, a man I have a crush on and have only just officially met 15 minutes ago.
"Oh," is all he says but I see wheels turning. I don't even know if he is gay, but I all of a sudden feel the urge to tell him that I am.
"Long story...but let's just say that we were two very naive teenagers who should not have gotten married only because we were having a baby. I had already come out, even though I was a complete mess about it. So, now we're going to undo what we shouldn't have done in the first place." I just gave him way too much information. Right now I wish the floor would swallow me up so I didn't have to try to get myself out of this one. "I'm sorry...too much information..."
"Will, don't worry about it. You're out, hah? Me too." Yippee, woohoo, thank the lord. "And don't worry about TMI. I like hearing about you." Was it me daydreaming again or did he actually sound interested? I don't see a ring on his finger, so I make the assumption that he is single. And I'm a gay male, married to the mother of my child, raising a 5 year old practically on my own, flirting shamelessly with this guy working at the neighborhood coffee shop. Get a grip, I thought. This is never going to happen while I have my daughter in tow. So many times someone shows interest until they see the wedding ring or hear me talk about Arianna. I know it's too much for most to handle. But I'm hoping that it isn't for Sonny.
"So," I pause to work up the courage to continue, "I hope maybe to see you again sometime when you are working?"
"Yeah, sure, Will. I'll see you around."
I wave from the doorway as Arianna and I turn to leave. I feel eyes on my back, watching my every move. I look back one last time and meet Sonny's intense stare with my own. "Until next time," I say and then it's off to catch that movie I promised to watch with my daughter this afternoon.