“I’m fourteen, not twelve.”
Was there a difference?
“But you’re going with Patti and all your friends, aren’t you?” I tried to keep the rising panic I felt from reflecting in my tone.
“Sure but—”
“You want a boy to ask you and he hasn’t?” I desperately wanted her to say no, to deny my worst nightmare wasn’t about to come true.
“No. Not yet. Thanks for reminding me. I’m going to call Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Amanda, don’t go. What—”
She hung up. Jesus, what had I done now? I wasn’t getting anything right at the moment. Things were so much easier when she lived with her mother. Up until the move, I could do no wrong. All I had to do was tickle her, crack a joke, read her a bedtime story and she thought I was amazing. Now everything I did led to an eye roll or a Daaad.
Fuck. I needed to call to Pandora. Maybe I could send Amanda over to Zurich the weekend of the dance? That way, there would be no boys, no dating and I wouldn’t have to worry about going to jail for murder. My daughter was fourteen—she wasn’t ready for the reality of the male species.
“Come in,” I barked at the loud rap on the door. Harper entered the room. I groaned. Being in the same room as her was the very last thing I needed.
“What?” I asked as she strode toward me.
“The revised Bangladesh report.” She held up some papers.
“You could have left it with Donna.”
She placed the report down on my desk with a bang. “I’m sure if I’d left it with Donna, you’d have told me I should have handed it to you directly.”
Oh. Sass. I hadn’t been expecting that. I had to bite down a grin. She was right; I was giving her a hard time. But it wasn’t personal. Okay, it was a little bit personal. She just irritated me. I prided myself on being unemotional at work. I’d always been able to separate the different areas of my life, to shut one world down while I was in another. Harper blurred the lines. During our meetings I fixated on the curve of her neck, or the pull of her sweater across her breasts. I’d be left trying to figure out her scent or imagine how her skin would feel under my fingers. I tried to shut that part of my imagination down. Over and over.
I stared at the screen of my laptop. “Well now you’re here, just leave it on my desk and I’ll try to get to it later.”
“I’ll leave your sandwich with Donna then,” she said as she turned on her heel. Was she wearing a new dress? It looked good on her, showing off her ass and the sway of her hips while being high necked and demure.
I didn’t have time to answer as she headed out and slammed the door.
Jesus, I was getting attitude everywhere I turned today. Was there a full moon? I picked up my cell and dialed Amanda. No answer.
I had a pile of papers to get through, but I wanted to get to the bottom of the situation with Amanda. If she was hoping to go to her dance with a date, we had a lot to talk about. I pulled all my things together. I’d work on the train. Leaving the office would be a double bonus—I could be with my daughter and put some distance between me and Harper. But it wasn’t a long-term solution. I couldn’t just stop coming into the office to avoid Harper. I needed a plan to keep her away from me. A way of making sure she didn’t want anything to do with me.
* * * * *
The journey back to Connecticut had unwound me, and I was able to focus better with every mile put between me and Harper.
“Pancakes?” Amanda asked as she skulked into the kitchen. The French doors were open and a light breeze circled around us. Despite us being anything but a traditional family, I’d always liked that this house had a traditional family feel. It had none of the sleek lines, gloss, and glamour of my New York apartment but I liked both of them, felt at home either way.
I nodded, cracking an egg into a bowl. Since she’d transitioned to solid food, Amanda and I had shared pancakes on Sunday mornings and talked. Pancakes were our thing.
“You’re home early,” she said. She’d hinted that she wanted me home on the phone, but she’d never expect it. It was nice to be able to surprise her. She understood work was important but that she always came first. In so many ways she was mature, but every now and then I’d get a reminder she was still fourteen.
I nodded again.
“Like half a day early,” she added.
“Thought I’d spend some time with my favorite lady. I sent Marion home, so we’re having pancakes.” Marion cooked for both of us on the nights I was home. Two nights a week Amanda’s two sets of grandparents fought over her. Because she’d spent so much time with them when she was little, it was almost as if she had three sets of parents, and my two sisters provided the aunt input.