I had no idea what went on in Amanda’s head most of the time. “I’m not sure I want to know,” I replied, scrubbing my hands over my face.
Donna grinned. “Believe me, you’re better off in the dark. Try to say yes sometimes, that way everything isn’t a fight. What does Pandora say?”
“That she’d cut my balls off if I let her dye her hair.”
“Well at least you’re on the same page.”
Pandora and I agreed about most things when it came to our daughter. Because we’d both been so young when Pandora had gotten pregnant, we’d started with a fresh slate. There was no baggage between us. No ill feelings. We’d both just done the best we could. We’d briefly flirted with the idea of trying to make things work between us, but neither of us tried that hard. It’d been a pre-college fling and nothing more.
I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a conscious decision, but from the moment Amanda was born, I knew my life was all about my daughter. Yes, my business was important, but it was needing to support Amanda, wanting her to have every advantage, that had driven me. I was determined that even though Pandora and I had made a mistake in getting pregnant, having a daughter never would be. She was the only important thing in my life and the reason there’d never been room for anyone else.
Support from our parents meant we’d both finished college. Pandora had met Jason in her sophomore year and they’d married shortly after graduation. I’d been an usher and Amanda had sat on my lap during the ceremony. It was a weird setup but it worked all these years. But looking back, Pandora had shouldered the day-to-day of bringing Amanda up. Now her baton had been passed to me.
“Yeah. It’s more of a change than I expected, though. Before if she’d asked to dye her hair I’d have either told her to ask her mother, or said no and dropped her off at home, leaving Pandora with the fallout. Now it’s all on me.”
“Remember, Amanda’s probably missing her mother, too.”
“It was her idea for them to go without her. Jason was ready to turn down the job in Zurich.”
“I know, but she’s at the age when sometimes she can see an adult’s point of view, and yet sometimes still be a kid.”
I nodded and my heart tugged in that way only Amanda could elicit. She was only fourteen. Christ, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that time. Everything was just so awkward. “They Skype all the time. I think I have more to do with Pandora now than I ever did before. We literally Skyped all through dinner last night.” I laughed. “It was nice actually. I think Pandora’s worried she hasn’t done the right thing leaving her with me.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You just need to get used to each other.”
I nodded. “Yes, I hope if she—” My FaceTime chimed. “Here she is now.” I picked up my phone. “Hey, Donna’s here, say hi.”
“Hey, Donna,” my daughter replied.
“Hi, Amanda. You look so pretty.”
“But I’d look better with blond hair, right?”
Donna chuckled and stood. “I’m so not getting into that. I’ll give you guys a few minutes.”
“Hey, peanut. What’s up?” I asked as Donna closed the door behind her.
“Was just wondering when you were coming home.”
I checked the clock on my laptop. It was only noon. “Probably not until eight. Marion’s there, right?”
My housekeeper had known Amanda since she was a baby so was the perfect after-school and holiday sitter. This week Amanda was on break.
“Yeah, she’s here. I just thought maybe you’d be back early today.”
My heart squeezed again. Ninety percent of the time she drove me nuts, but it was moments like these that I lived for. She might be fourteen, but sometimes she still needed her dad.
“How was your morning?”
“Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you still fighting with Samantha? You know you’ll feel better if you get it out. Problems are like shit—”
“Daaad.”
I chuckled. She didn’t like any talk that involved bowels or farting, so I teased her with it every chance I got.
“Samantha got asked to the dance already,” she mumbled.
That caught my attention. “What do you mean asked? Like a boy asked her? On a date?” My throat started to constrict and I coughed. “You’re in middle school, for Christ’s sake—you can’t be dating.” Amanda’s eighth grade dance was occupying an awful lot of space in my daughter’s head. I’d have preferred math or geography got her focus.