Page 15 of Fake it With Me

Liza walked into the kitchen just as I was pulling the bacon out of the pan. Her hair was down, falling past her shoulders in waves, and she was wearing yoga pants with an oversized sweatshirt that had “Save the Whales” printed across the chest. No makeup, no artifice. Just Liza.

She was beautiful.

I shoved that thought aside and focused on the bacon. “Morning,” I said. “Coffee?”

“God, yes. Please.” She moved into the kitchen like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed. “I didn’t expect you to be up. Or cooking.”

“I’m always up early.” I poured her a cup and slid it across the counter. “Cream and sugar are there if you want them.”

She doctored her coffee, heavy on both cream and sugar. I watched as she took a long drink. Her eyes closed in something that looked like religious ecstasy.

“Good?” I asked.

“I haven’t had real coffee in months. I’ve been drinking instant. The cheap stuff that tastes like burned dirt.” She took another sip. “This is amazing.”

“It’s just coffee.”

“It’s real coffee. That’s not ‘just’ anything.”

I started cracking eggs into the pan. Scrambled, because that was what Daisie liked. I preferred over easy, but it was a pain in the ass to do both ways. I had gotten into the habit of making breakfast the way she preferred.

Liza watched me work. I could feel her curiosity. Finally, she said, “I’m impressed you know how to cook. I kind of expected there to be a butler or a chef or… I don’t know, staff?”

“We have a cleaning service that comes twice a week. That’s it.” I stirred the eggs. “I realized I was working too much, spending all my time at the boat yard or in the office. Daisie was eating dinner with a nanny more often than with me. So I made some changes. Hired managers to handle the office work, cut back my hours. Now I make breakfast every morning, and we eat dinner together every night.”

“That’s really good parenting.”

“It’s me trying to be a better dad than I was six months ago.” The eggs were done. I scooped them onto a plate and started buttering toast. “I figured if I’m going to ask the court to give me full custody, I should probably actually be present in my daughter’s life.”

“Makes sense.”

“Can you grab the plates from that cabinet?”

She pulled out plates and opened drawers until she found the cutlery. It was good for her to learn her way around the kitchen. In fact, she was going to need to be familiar with the layout if we were going to sell the idea she lived with us.

Daisie burst into the kitchen still in her pajamas, the stuffed whale tucked under her arm.

“Good morning,” I greeted her.

Daisie looked a little uncomfortable when she spotted Liza.

“Daisie, show Liza how we set the table.”

I watched as Daisie put the whale on the table and then showed Liza where everything went. I couldn’t help but notice the way Daisie looked at her. With interest, yes, but also with something that looked like hope. Like maybe this woman might stick around.

It made my chest ache.

My little girl needed a woman in her life. I had known that for a while now. I knew she was thinking about her mother. I did my best, but there were things I couldn’t give her. Perspectives I didn’t have. A mother’s love.

I would never forgive Sasha for leaving our daughter. Never. I didn’t care what kind of identity crisis or quarter-life awakening or whatever bullshit excuse she’d come up with. You didn’t abandon your child. You didn’t leave a four-year-old wondering what she had done wrong and why she wasn’t enough to make her mother stay.

We sat down to eat. Daisie wasn’t her usual chatty self, which meant I had to carry the conversation.

“We have that cocktail party tonight,” I said to Liza. “At the yacht club. Did you find a dress?”

She swallowed her bite of toast. “Yeah. I got one when I went shopping.”

“Good. We’ll need to leave around six thirty. It’s black tie optional, but everyone will be in cocktail attire.”