Page 113 of The Offside Rule
“Love you,” I said, then ended the call before she could interrogate me further.
The car was quiet for three whole seconds.
Then Isla said, “You’re acting suspicious.”
I looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You’re ten.”
“I have instincts.”
“You have jet lag.”
“What’s jet lag?” she asked.
“It’s when you travel between two different time zones. It can leave you feeling tired,” I explained.
She yawned. “I’m tired.”
“I’m sure you are, Bug. I ordered your favorite popcorn chicken from Chick-a-Lola. You can eat, shower, and sleep,” I said.
That got me a big “Yesss,” from Isla.
We ate at the kitchen counter. The same counter Catherine had been on two nights ago. It was a bad thought. Isla was telling me about campfire night, swinging her feet under the stool, completely unaware that her father was having a moral crisis over a piece of kitchen furniture. I looked at the empty stool beside her and pictured Catherine there. Not the way she had been that night, flushed and breathless and mine in a way I still couldn’t think about without my body reacting. Instead, I thought of Catherine sitting beside Isla, laughing at one of her stories. Catherine stealing one of my popcorn chickens. Isla asking her too many questions. The three of us eating takeout at the island like it was normal. Like a family. I shut the thought down so hard it almost hurt. I had learned nothing since Amy, because here I was, hiding a relationship with my coach’s daughter, imagining her at my kitchen counter with my kid, and setting myself up to get wrecked all over again. Worse, I was lying to Cole and Holland. I was sneaking around with Catherine behind his back. The guilt sat heavy in my chest.
“Dad?”
I blinked. “Yeah?”
“You’re doing the serious forehead thing,” Isla noted. She was too perceptive.
I forced my face to relax. “Sorry. Tired.”
After dinner, I made her unpack half her bag, because I was still her father and had standards, then she showered while I started laundry. By the time I tucked her in, she was fighting sleep and losing badly.
“Zoo tomorrow?” she mumbled.
“We’ll see what Grandma says.”
“That means yes,” she cheered and then yawned. “Did you miss me a lot?”
I sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair back from her face. “More than a lot.”
“Did the condo get lonely?”
“Yeah, Bug. It did.”
She smiled sleepily. “Maybe you do need a mommy.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
“Goodnight, Isla.”
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
I kissed her forehead and waited until her breathing evened out before I left. The condo was quiet again. I went to the couch, sat down, and stared at my phone for longer than I should have. Then I texted Catherine.
Me: Hi
Catherine: How is Isla?
