Page 154 of Good For Me

Epilogue

River

“Do you think she has enough sunscreen?” I ask.

“I just slathered her up.” Jas takes one of my balled-up fists and uncurls my fingers. “Relax. She’s fine. She’s right there.”

“I am not a fan of this walking thing,” I mutter, and Jas laughs. Ever since Poppy started walking a month ago I’ve been an overprotective mess. My worst nightmare is seeing my kid hurt—even the most minor bruise has the power to wreck me. So it’s just my luck that kids learning to walk fall down a lot. And that has meant several scrapes and more than a few tears—from me, not from Poppy. She’s always eager to get right back up and try again. Her daddy, on the other hand, is a mess.

“Think of it this way,” Jas says as we watch her toddle around a few feet in front of us. She keeps getting distracted by different things—a seagull, some shells, a little kid with a bright yellow sand bucket—and then has to change course. Our walk on the beach has been going on for ten minutes and we’ve barely gone a few yards. “If she falls down, the sand will be soft.”

“Or,” I suggest. “I could just carry her and then she wouldn’t fall at all.”

“How’s that gonna work out for you when she’s twenty?”

There were a lot of things I assumed would be difficult about having a kid. The crying. Sleeplessness. Diapers. The fear of screwing them up somehow. The responsibility it would require.

But I never knew aboutthisfeeling. The feeling I can’t even name. The combination of joy and pride and excitement at the idea of Poppy growing and changing mixed with heartbreak that she isn’t still a tiny baby and a healthy dose of fear that growing and changing provides more opportunities for her to get hurt.

Having a kid is a trip, man.

But in spite of all of that, I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. My baby girl changed every single part of me and every single part of my life and it’s the absolute best thing that ever happened to me. No contest.

“Da!” she yells suddenly, turning back to us. Of course she falls on her little diaper padded butt. Jas is still holding my hand, so I force myself to stay relaxed, to not give into the urge to rush over to her.

Poppy takes it all in stride. “Da!” she yells again, and my heart basically explodes. She’s so damn cute, and hearing her say my name is unbelievable. Jas likes to pretend she’s not really saying Dad, since she also uses Da to refer to her crib, the Jeep, and Wyatt and Alex’s dog, George. But there’s something different about the way she says it when she’s calling for me. I know it.

“What’s up, girl?” I ask, squatting down in front of her. She gives me her gummy mouth little smile and I can’t help smiling back. Jas says we’re screwed once she figures out the power she has in that smile. She’s going to be able to get me to do anything she wants.

She uses my arms to pull herself up then turns again, staying on her feet this time as she toddles straight for the water.

“Not so fast, lady,” I say, scooping her up.

She frowns at me, squirming to get down. “We can go in the water, but not by yourself.” I set her back on the sand, holding onto her two hands, and walk her out into the lapping surf. She squeals when she feels it, pulling her feet up so she’s dangling from my hands.

“It’s too cold for little toes,” Jas tells her, leaning down to kiss the side of her face. Poppy grins even bigger—I swear, she smiles like that every time she sees her mommy. The girl might be as obsessed with Jas as I am. Then she sticks her feet back in the water. She squeals, laughing, but doesn’t try to pull away again. Instead she attempts to march straight out into the waves.

Jas laughs behind us. “Like father like daughter.”

I sit down in the shallow water, encasing her between my legs so she can splash but not go anywhere. “What do you think, baby?” I ask her. “You gonna be a surfer girl someday?”

I’m rewarded with a giant splash of salt water to the face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“She’s going to be a skater girl, not a lame surfer,” Jas says, plopping next to us in the sand. “Right, baby?”

“Da!” Poppy yells, and I throw my arms up in victory.

“She totally said, Dad,” I say. “Which means she’s agreeing with me.”

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.” She nudges me, sliding closer, and I bring my arm around her, grinning to myself as she leans into my chest. It never gets old, the way Jas is so comfortable with affection these days. It started even before Poppy was born—she would reach out for my hand or pull me down into a hug, no matter who was around. But becoming a mother seems to have softened the last of those walls my girl used to carry around.

She’s still a freaking badass, though. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed badassery on the level of Jasmine the day she gave birth to Poppy. I’d been a wreck, totally terrified and sick to my stomach at the sight of her in pain. But Jas had faced that event the way she does everything else in life—with confidence and determination and more bravery than I can wrap my mind around.

And all of her worries about her ability to mother disappeared that day. She’s so confident and chill in the way she parents our kid. A total natural.

Finding out that Harrison was actually Poppy had been a pretty big shock for both of us. We remained committed to being surprised for the entire pregnancy, but we’d both been positive it was a boy right up until the last minute. Not that either of us really cared—the second we looked into her perfectly gorgeous face, we were both goners. Our daughter is objectively the most beautiful human in the world. Everyone else is just fooling themselves.

“This is pretty perfect,” Jas murmurs.