Page 80 of Game Plan

He walks through the doorway and stops in his tracks. His brows lift as he takes in the chaos. I hold my breath the entire time.

Finally, after what feels like forever, a smile tips his lips. “Looks like you guys had a good time today.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a shaky breath. “It’s been a day. She’s been up since eight o’clock, wouldn’t nap, but learned how to climb stairs, so that’s been fun.” I pause, waiting for her to finish babbling to Finn before I continue trying to explain myself. “She fell three times, and I was pretty sure she had a concussion for a while, but she seems fine now. Every time I turned my back to log on to my computer or take a call, she just disappeared or shoved something in her mouth. I haven’t even brushed my teeth today or had time to pick up or do the dishes or … anything, really.”

I swallow as a voice echoes through my mind.

“For fuck’s sake, Poppy. You’re so fucking lazy. How in the hell have you not managed to do a load of laundry today? Why is there still a bowl in the fucking sink? So fucking disrespectful after all I do for you. Must be nice.”

He chuckles softly, coming to me and pulling me into his side. Sunny clings to me as Finn rubs my back and presses a kiss against the top of my head. “You know what?” he asks.

“What?” I blink, meaning the question in every way. Why isn’t he upset? How can he see this mess—me—and not be frustrated?

“The house is still standing, and Sunny is alive and happy, as far as I can tell,” he says. “I’m pretty sure everything’s gonna be okay.”

Oh, Finn. I pull back with tears clotting my eyes. “I feel like I failed today.”

“You feel like you failed?” He plucks Sunny from my arms and carries her to the kitchen, swiping her sippy cup off the floor in the process. “Explain to me how you failed.”

I sniffle, looking around. “I don’t know. Survey the damage. I feel like all I got done today was trying to keep her from hurting herself while I pretended in small doses of time that I was a functioning adult. I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. This is just ... I’m just really, really bad at this.”

“Let me ask you a question,” he says, washing the sippy cup and then filling it with half apple juice, half water. I don’t tell him that she’s already had two of those today. “Who decided that you were supposed to be able to do all the things that were asked of you today and to do them well? Whoever said one person should be able to manage a toddler, keep a house immaculate, be a badass businesswoman, and have clean teeth in the process?”

He looks over his shoulder at me with a lifted brow as I sniffle again.

“Whoever they were, they were dumb,” he says, handing the sippy cup to Sunny and facing me. “Whoever made you think that those expectations were realistic lied to you, babe.”

He comes over, sitting on the couch and taking my hand. Gently, he guides me down beside him.

“My mom was a stay-at-home mom for Lay and me, and Dad worked. And I remember our house was never perfect. I mean, it was clean, but I wouldn’t eat off the floor.” He chuckles as Sunny strips him of his hat. “Yeah, I’m talking about your nan.”

“Nan,” Sunny says.

He settles her on his lap. “Mom was the best,” he says, returning to his story. “All of our friends wanted to be at our house. She’d make cookies at midnight, and she’d throw us passes as we ran routes. We went to the lake and played cards, and she sat with us while we did our homework.” He puts his arm around me as I lean my head against him. “Dad would come in after work and ask us what we did that day. Who did we see? What did we eat? He wanted all the details. Then he’d look at Mom and tell us to go wash our faces because we were going out to dinner.”

I smile as his memory touches my heart. It reminds me of my parents and how my father could read my mother like a book. She’s said many times that it’s one of the things she misses most about him—not having to explain things to someone because they know you so well.

Once upon a time, I believed in that. I wanted that for myself. Then Jordan happened, and my dream went up in smoke because my reality didn’t reflect it at all. I sat alone in the kitchen late at night so many times and wondered if I was the problem or if this is just what happened when you were newlyweds. Would it get better as the pressure eased and you fell into this rhythm, managed the bills, and figured out how to live together?

That didn’t happen. And every day, every month that went by, my dream fizzled out a little more. Jordan saw me as less—as a wife, as his lover, as a human being. I became this entity whose purpose was to make his life easier by following whatever orders and expectations he thrust upon me. My spirit died a little more with every breath.

Until one day in October when my father had enough and reminded me who I was … and who I was not.

The burn in my chest grows hotter and more uncomfortable as I acknowledge the life that I shed and the one that I grew after. And as I look into Finn’s beautiful green eyes and take in the strength and tenderness—a dazzling mix that tugs at emotions I thought I’d locked away—I wonder if it might be safe for me to dream again.

“I always just thought Dad must not like Mom’s cooking or something,” he says, bouncing Sunny on his knee. “But then when I was older, he explained to me in no uncertain terms that Mom’s job was to teach us and keep us healthy and happy. His job was to make that possible, and they could split the rest.” He squeezes my waist. “That’s what you did today. Plus, you worked as much as you could.”

My body melts against him as relief rushes through me.

“I don’t know why you thought that picking up Sunny’s toys or doing the dishes was your job,” he says, smiling at me.

“Because I was here.”

“And now, I’m here. You pass the ball to me, and I run with it as far as I can go. Then we reset and try again.”

A tear that’s been trapped for years streams down my cheek.

“This little rugrat and I,” he says, tickling Sunny’s stomach, “are going to go to the store to get some steaks. Then we’re coming home, picking up the house, and making dinner. And, while we’re gone, you’re going to go upstairs and send emails or make calls or take a bath or a nap—I don’t care. But you’ve cared for her all day. Now you’re going to care for yourself, my girl.”