Nice to Meet Ya

She met her husband at the first university party she attended.  He was in his second year of university, and she was in her first year, but her dark humor and extensive music knowledge kept him entertained all night.  They dated for an exciting year filled with morning kisses before she left for class and late-night conversations about their future, and then they were blessed with the news that she was pregnant. 

Her parents rejoiced, but his parents forced him to propose.  They were married in her parents’ garden, under a floral arch her mother designed, with very few guests because his parents did not want their friends to see the small bump under the maternity wedding dress that she despised.  At twenty, she gave birth to their beautiful daughter, Daphne. 

The couple attempted to raise their daughter together, but the morning kisses turned to cold glares, and conversations about the future transformed into hate-filled mutters about feeling trapped.  A few weeks after their daughter’s third birthday, she divorced the man she planned to spend forever with.  Her marriage devoured her hope for love. * * * * *

Oldies from the sixties and seventies flowed from the Bluetooth stereo and throughout the small kitchen.  She flipped the sizzling bacon, plated the burning eggs, and buttered the steaming toast.  Pausing the music, she listened for movement, like the sound of her daughter’s electric toothbrush or the squeak of those awful shoes her daughter’s school assigned as the required dress code.  The sneaky eight-year-old was known for slipping back into bed after her mother returned to her busy morning schedule; however, they could not be late this morning.  The bathroom door’s squeaky hinge informed her that Daphne just finished her morning routine and should appear in the kitchen soon.  She chugged the remainder of the French vanilla coffee in an attempt to muster all possible energy.

Two bouncing ponytails hovered beside the wooden kitchen table and then descended until they disappeared with a giggle.  “Did it look like I was walking downstairs? Daphne asked, hopping up the minute her mother chuckled at the illusion. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s small frame.  “My little magician.  Who taught you that?”

She knew the answer before she asked the question, recalling mornings when her ex-husband would send her into a fit of laughter by claiming he left the eggs downstairs and then descending behind the counter until he reappeared with two eggs in his hands.  Late at night, she often wondered what happened to that man.  Did she kill his spirit?  Or did he reserve that side of himself for people he actually loved?

“Daddy.  Will he pick me up after school?” She never knew how to answer these questions.  She should have a solid answer, but her ex-husband loved creating excuses as to why he couldn’t watch their daughter during his scheduled weekends.

Instead, she replied by handing her daughter the breakfast plate.  “You need to eat breakfast.  We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

Daphne hopped onto the nearby stool, taking turns between eating breakfast and kicking her feet along with the music’s beat.  Her mother rushed around the apartment, shoving expired library books into the young girl’s pink backpack.  No matter what time her mother woke up, she was always in a hurry.  She couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t busy, even when they visited her grandparents, her mother took it upon herself to cook everyone dinner. 

“Are you ready to start our Friday?” Y/N asked, helping the little girl into her black raincoat.

Daphne nodded, flashing her mother a wide, toothy grin before running down the quiet hallway.  Shushing the eight-year-old and her heavy feet, she followed her daughter down the stairs and into the real world.  She despised Fridays because Fridays looked like her, alone in the apartment with a Chinese delivery and a movie that she ignored in favor of thinking about where her life was headed.  Her best friend, Christie, often suggested that they go out and find someone new, but she knew the love of her life wasn’t in a bar waiting for her.  Romantic love skipped right over her, so years ago, she decided she would focus on the only love in her life, her daughter. * * * * *

A higher being loved irony, especially when leading her through life.  Although her chances at true love were dashed when she signed the divorce papers, she spent the majority of her days photographing random couple’s wedding photos.  Sure, she also photographed family portraits, fashion shoots, and other various photography projects, but many of her customers were couples in love. 

Today, she was capturing the love between Peter and Samantha, a young couple who planned a Shakespearian wedding, so they dressed as Romeo and Juliet for the wedding invitation photos.  She wondered whether Romeo and Juliet were couple goals because wasn’t the play criticizing the societal norms that killed the teens?  Peter’s check told her to shut up and do what she did best–photograph the sweet couple.  She had about thirty photos before her ex-husband’s ringtone startled everyone in the studio.

She sighed, waving over her assistant, “I’m sorry.  Kira will provide you both with champagne while I answer this call.”

Kira poured the champagne for the happy couple, who reassured them they needed a break anyway.  She walked away from the small group and farther into the studio’s storage room because her gut knew Tyler’s call was not about what he ate for lunch.

“Hello?” She prepared her heart for the excuse.

She heard shuffling on his end as if he wasn’t expecting her to answer his call.  “Hey, I’m sorry to call you at work.  How are you?” His deep, hypnotic voice shook with guilt.

The first time she heard that familiar shake in his voice, she thought she still made him nervous.  However, she quickly learned that his voice shook when he was about to utter another lame excuse as to why he couldn’t be a father that weekend.  She rolled her eyes because she did not have the time for this.

“Tyler, what is it this time?”

He sighed.  “I need you to cover for me this weekend.  Jo asked me to drive her to the doctor’s office, and she also planned a romantic weekend away.”

A low growl pulled her lips back into a snarl.  “You can’t spend time with our daughter because you have to drive your girlfriend to the doctor?  Can she not drive herself like an adult?  Do you not understand how much Daphne misses you?”

“Listen, I didn’t call you for a lecture on parenting.  We all can’t be perfect parents like you.” Tyler hissed, a tone she knew very well from their relationship.

The couple could argue about anything, from when the milk expired to why he never wanted to hold her hand anymore.  The passion in their marriage centered around their hatred of one another until, one day, the arguments stopped, and a cold silence enveloped the couple.  The heart of their marriage had shriveled up and died.

She chuckled bitterly, running her free hand through her hair.  “I’m not asking you to be the perfect parent.  I’m asking that you be there for our daughter, and you can’t even do that.  Have fun with your girlfriend.”

Tyler ended the call without another word.  Did he not respond because he knew she was right?  She would break Daphne’s heart when she told her the news, but they would still have an amazing weekend because her daughter deserved it.  Sighing, she regained her composure and returned to the lovely couple, whose love reminded her that love was still alive for everyone except her. * * * * *

“He canceled on Daphne again because Joanna needed an uber?  Did you tell him to fuck off?” Christie complained as if she were the one who divorced Tyler.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head.  “No, I did tell him to fuck off in parent though.  Does Joanna not understand that Daphne misses her father?”

“You mean the woman who ruined your marriage is trying to separate your daughter from her father?”  Christie’s sarcasm usually made her laugh, but those words stilled her hand on the computer mouse.

The wedding photo she was editing once again mocked her situation.  Her marriage wilted away for two years, but Joanna produced the final drought that destroyed every root and petal. 

She recalled the day, replaying the moments as if they were scenes from a movie.  She left early that morning, dropping Daphne off with her parents while she went shopping for her daughter’s birthday party.  She purchased party hats detailed with a singing, independent princess and ordered two cakes decorated with the same princess and her quirky sidekick.  Deciding to surprise her husband with a lunch date, she returned to their apartment, where she found her husband kissing another woman in their kitchen. 

The cheating couple spun around toward her, and his only response came in the form of an apathetic mutter, "I thought you would be gone all day." They divorced a few weeks after that.  She never cried because Joanna slept with her husband; she cried because the couple shared an emotional connection far deeper than what they ever had.  The love in his eyes returned and sparkled brighter than she had ever seen, all for a woman he met five months ago.  He found his soulmate, and it wasn’t her.

“Y/N?  Hello?  Did the call drop?” Christie’s frantic questions rescued her from the dark spiral she fell into. 

She gasped, realizing she had fifteen minutes of editing time before she had to pick up Daphne from school.  “Yeah, I guess this photo distracted me for a moment.  I’m sorry.  I’ll call you later.”

The problem with phone calls is that Christie couldn’t spot her friend’s distress.  Her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip, her fingers picked at her fingernail polish, and her knee bounced erratically under her desk.  The couple’s smile in the photo made her stomach churn with jealousy and sorrow.  When would she find her soulmate?  Could anyone love her?  After downloading the images onto her thumb drive, she locked away the hideous feelings behind her studio’s glass doors and walked toward her sunshine.  * * * * *

Daphne dried the hot tears from her cheeks, swallowing the sobs she wished her father could hear so he would cancel the plans that kept him from her.  Her watery vision focused on the delicate rings decorating the hand holding her left hand, which provided the warmth and comfort needed to soothe her broken heart.  Glancing up, she admired her mother's ever-present smile that never seemed to falter, especially when her father did not have time for her. 

After her mother broke the news outside of the primary school, she wiped the tears from her daughter's damp cheeks and mentioned a surprise.  Walking down the busy sidewalk, they slowed their pace once Y/N spotted the neon blue sign that read Dream Cones.  Two months ago, Daphne returned from a friend's birthday party and raved about the delicious ice cream served.  Today, Y/N saw the friend's mother at the school, and she asked for the ice cream shop's name to surprise her daughter.  Her daughter's sparkling eyes and enthusiastic giggles revived her heart from her earlier conversation with Tyler and Christie. 

“Surprise.  Should we go inside?”  She asked, already knowing the answer she would receive from her daughter.

Daphne nodded, gripping her mother’s hand with the strength of a hundred sugar-crazed children.  Y/N might regret her decision later, like during their bedtime routine, but her daughter deserved a good childhood, and she would strive to provide her with that. As they entered the shop, a golden bell chimed loudly above their heads.  “Welcome to Dream Cones.” The men and women cheered from behind the white marble counters. The warm, sugary scent of freshly baked waffle cones greeted their noses.  Y/N's eyes flitted around the room, stopping briefly on the cerulean walls, the ornamental vanilla cone hung above the menu, and the wooden tables crowded with laughing families.  Despite the conversations melding together into nonsensical noise, she could still pick up the soft pop music flowing through some unseen speaker.

Daphne seemed to speak the words she was thinking, “This place is cool.”

They approached the marble counter, reading the various ice cream labels, which featured unique names like lemonade over ice.  She enjoyed the clever names; however, her eyes and stomach could not believe how fluffy and creamy each flavor looked.

“Mommy, will I like Sign of the Limes?” Chuckling at the amusing name, Y/N wondered whether the staff competed to create the unique names or the owner carefully curated each one. 

“Yeah, do you want a cup or a cone?” The eight-year-old took a second to consider her options before ultimately choosing the waffle cone.

Y/N nodded, waiting until one of the women behind the counter asked for their order.  She ordered the flavor Watermelon Sugar in a cup and Sign of the Limes in a cone for Daphne. 

“Watermelon Sugar is my favorite flavor.” The cheerful worker commented, handing out the coral-colored ice cream.  “Let me know how you like it.”

“Absolutely,  I’m a sucker for anything watermelon flavored.”  She giggled, agreeing with her customer that anything watermelon flavored was superior.

“Okay, your total is 23.96.”

Y/N's eyes widened, and she nearly gasped when she heard the price.  She appreciated the artistic decor and the friendly workers; however, twelve-dollar ice cream was expensive for a single mother's budget.  Smiling through the pain, she handed the woman her card.

“This is delicious.  Can we have ice cream every Friday?” Daphne asked between mouthfuls.

Y/N giggled, wiping the messy corners of her daughter’s mouth with a napkin.  “Of course.”  She would find room in the budget for twelve-dollar ice cream as long as it made her daughter happy.

She stole a spoonful of ice cream from Daphne, which resulted in her daughter shooting her a playful glare, which she fixed by giving her a spoonful of her own ice cream as an equal trade.  Between the two flavors, she could not decide which one she enjoyed the most.  While she liked how the lime's zestiness did not overpower her palette, the watermelon found a balance between salty and sweet due to the salt crystals disguised as watermelon seeds.  However, she knew one thing for sure, she loved the shop.  After they finished their treats, they returned to the counter. 

“Well, what is the verdict on Watermelon Sugar?” The woman asked, wiping the counters with a wet dishrag.

“Absolutely delicious,” she licked her lips.  “Can you give our compliments to your boss?”

The woman nodded fervently, “Of course.”  Then she paused, processing her idea before responding with a smirk.  “Would you like to tell him yourself?  He recently returned from a late meeting.”

Y/N shrugged, unsure about the possible interaction, but she recalled the numerous compliments she received from customers and agreed to the suggestion.

The worker walked away, disappearing behind a door labeled Employees Only.  Y/N understood her compliments could brighten the owner's day; however, the longer the woman remained behind the door, the longer she had to overthink the future conversation.  What if the owner did not care about her opinion and laughed in her face?  What if the owner misunderstood and expected her to complain?  Her worries eased once the door swung open, revealing the worker and a Greek God.  The moment her eyes fell upon the curly-haired man with his lime-green sweater, her mouth ran dry. 

“Hello, I'm the owner, Harry.” The man's low and slow tone melted her heart like ice cream on a summer day.

She smiled dreamily, “Hello, I'm Y/N, and this is my daughter, Daphne.”

Before she could produce a compliment, he turned and faced the little girl.  “Hello Daphne, did you enjoy your ice cream?”

She watched in awe; not only did he acknowledge her daughter, but he also cared about her opinion.  The girl's father rarely asked about her interests.  She reminded herself not to idolize this stranger's kind gesture simply because her ex-husband lacked decent human qualities.

“Yes sir, my mommy bought me a lime cone.  She said we could come back every Friday.” Daphne gushed, revealing their plan with a toothy grin.

Harry's smile widened, unveiling two crescent-shaped dimples that dented his cheeks.  The man was perfect.  “Awesome, you must have a cool mom.”

Daphne agreed, smiling proudly at her mother, who blinked back happy tears.  Y/N cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed that her daughter's compliment nearly brought her to tears.

“We appreciate you and your staff.  Everyone is so kind, and the ice cream tastes wonderful.” She mumbled timidly. 

His crystal green eyes found hers, sending chills down her spine at how they seemed to sparkle from the compliment.  He reached up, placing his palms over his heart. 

“Thank you.  Our customers brighten our day, but compliments like these are the reason why we opened this place.  What flavor did you try?”

“Watermelon sugar, and I think I’ll crave it until next Friday.” She giggled, shaking her head in shame over her sweet tooth.

Harry threw his head back, releasing an abrupt cackle that fluttered her heart.  Her mind stuttered, questioning why her body was reacting to this man she met five minutes ago.  Why did his beautiful laugh make her want to join in? 

“Imagine how I must feel working here.  I spend a majority of my day in my office because if I didn’t, I would have to reopen my gym membership.”

Now, it was her turn to laugh, a proper boisterous laugh, which she had not heard in quite a while.  However, her ex-husband's cruel nature rang loudly in her head, reminding her not to be annoying.  She quickly recovered, silencing her laugh and preparing an apology, but before she could speak, Harry settled her doubts and insecurities.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” He admired her melodic laugh. 

She ducked her head, hiding her sheepish grin from him.  Daphne's eyes traveled back and forth from the curly-haired stranger to her bashful mother.  The interaction made her question why her mother and father never laughed or smiled around one another.  Did her mother like this man more than her father?  Daphne hummed, examining the man further, deciding whether or not she liked him, and since she liked the lamb on his sweater, she decided the man was okay to talk with her mother.  However, she needed to leave soon to change out of her uncomfortable shoes.  

“Mommy, my feet hurt.” 

Daphne's whines reminded Y/N, that as a mother, she should not flirt with random men.  She didn’t have time for a relationship and should focus all her efforts on her daughter.  Cooing, she lifted the exhausted little girl up into her arms. 

“Well, I hope to see you two soon.  Daphne, next time try the Lucky Charms ice cream." Harry suggested, waving goodbye to the mother and daughter. 

Daphne created a mental note to try the suggested flavor next time.  However, she doubted her father would bring her next Friday, so she hoped her mother might bring her back before then.  Y/N wondered whether she could return to the ice cream shop.  Her heart rejoiced from the attention like a middle schooler who received a note from their secret admirer.  However, she could not allow this infatuation to blossom into anything else.  She would return because Daphne loved the ice cream, but she would not flirt with the handsome man. * * * * *

Red paint bled through the thin paper and mixed into the watery blue paint, coloring the princess's hair a violent purple.  The plastic paint brush fell against the kitchen counter at the familiar sound of jingling keys unlocking the apartment door.  The little girl raced toward the door that swung open to reveal her mother’s beaming smile.

“Mommy, I missed you.” Daphne confessed, jumping into her mother’s loving embrace.

Holding her daughter tight, Y/N chuckled and dropped her purse onto the nearby table.  “I missed you too, Nugget.  Where is your Aunt Christie?”

“She’s cooking dinner in the kitchen before you think I abandoned your daughter.” Christie shouted from the kitchen, making the mother and daughter giggle.

When setting her daughter down, she spotted a bright red paint stain on the girl’s uniform, which transferred onto her blazer.  Pressing her palm against her forehead, she hoped Christie bought washable paint so she wouldn’t have to purchase another uniform blouse for Daphne.

“Mommy, come and look at my painting.” Her daughter grabbed her hands, leading her toward the kitchen, and with that simple gesture, her worries about stained clothes washed away. 

While some might consider the painting grotesque due to the amount of red paint coating the cartoon princess’s body, she admired the art as if Van Gogh completed the masterpiece himself.  She grabbed a yellow alphabet magnet from one of the kitchen’s drawers and hung the art on the fridge. 

While the little girl danced with joy, Christie announced, “Watch out world.  A new artist has entered the scene, and her name is Daphne.”

Since last Friday, Y/N noticed how Daphne rarely cried over Tyler’s absence, and she finished the wedding photos without any more pity parties.  Choosing to ignore her previous stressors, she found herself singing and laughing more often.  Eventually, she knew Christie would ask about her sudden change in mood, and the question came during dinner.

"You two seem happier.  What happened?  Did Daphne pour sugar in your cereal?" Christie wondered, earning a giggle from her niece.  

Daphne responded first, answering the questions through a mouthful of broccoli.  "No, do you remember when Andrew had delicious ice cream at his birthday party?  Mommy took me to that ice cream shop, and I ate an entire scoop."

Christie’s brown eyes widened in pretend shock.  “An entire scoop by yourself?  Are you sure your Mommy didn’t help you?”

She nodded as if she were convincing her Aunt of something unbelievable.  "I did because it tastes like your key-lime pie, but next time, I'm going to try the Lucky Charms flavor because Mr. Harry told me to.  I like Mr. Harry.  He made Mommy laugh."

At the mention of Harry's name, Y/N ducked her head down like a teenager avoiding an awkward conversation with her mother.  Taking an interest in the vegan meatloaf on her plate sounded better than making eye contact with her nosy best friend.  However, once Christie cleared her throat, she knew she could not escape the inevitable questioning.  Glancing up, she found herself face-to-face with Christie's smirk.

“Who is Harry?” Those three words manifested a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. 

She attempted to shrug nonchalantly to convince her best friend that he was not important, but her robotic movements unveiled her nerves about the subject. 

“He owns the ice cream shop.  We complimented the shop, and he thanked us.”

Christie knew her best friend better than anyone else, and the slight sparkle in her eyes told her all she needed to know.  Y/N finally found a man worthy enough to develop a crush on.  This time, she hoped she wouldn't ignore her feelings and allow herself to find happiness.

“Is this Harry attractive?” Y/N squeaked at the straightforward question, which only made Christie laugh loud and long.

Munching on the lumpy mashed potatoes, Daphne watched the women talk about Harry.  She noticed how her mother wore the same smile from Friday, the smile showed more teeth, unlike the tight-lip grin she sported around Daphne's father.  Her grandmother wore a similar smile when she told her granddaughter the story of how she met her grandfather.  Was this what adults call love?  Shouldn't her mother love her father?

Y/N took a sip from her glass of red wine before responding, “He could be a Gucci model.”

Christie hissed as if she burnt her hand on something hot.  “You caught the attention of a Gucci model, and you didn’t ask him to father your children?”

Y/N gasped, reaching across the table to lightly slap her friend's arm.  "Daphne is in the room." She grumbled, shaking her head with embarrassment.  

Christie frowned, deciding it best to change the subject.  They could discuss the possible Gucci model at a later date when her niece was not around.

Instead, she turned toward the little girl and asked, "Babe, did you tell your mom about music class?"

Daphne gasped, falling into an animated story about how Ms. Lee assigned her the role of drummer in the class band.  Y/N hung on every word, but her mind and ears groaned at the mental image of her parents surprising Daphne with her very own drum kit.  After that story, they all took turns telling stories from their day until their plates were empty.  At the end of the night, Christie hugged them goodbye and informed Y/N that she would call tomorrow for more details about Harry.  Once she shut the door, Daphne asked the question that had been on her mind since dinner.

“Do you love Daddy?”

Y/N froze, gaping at her daughter like a fish out of water.  Tonight must have been the night for shocking questions because every question caught her off guard.  How should she answer?  Should she call Tyler before she answers?  Her heart uttered the words, just be honest with her.

“I do love your father, but not in the same way that grandma loves grandpa.  I want your father to be happy and healthy, but we stopped being in love a long time ago.” She hoped the questions would end there, but her daughter was as curious as her mother.

“Why?”

She hummed, kneeling so she could look into her daughter’s eyes.  “Well, your father and I were very young when we met, and we did not know who we were as people.  During our marriage, we both changed and realized that we were better off as friends than husband and wife.  I’m sure your father is happy we ended our marriage because he found Joanna, and she makes him happy.”

While Daphne nodded, Y/N could see her mind trying to process the information before coming to the conclusion, “I’m glad that Daddy is happy, but I want you to be happy too.”

Tears blurred the woman’s vision, and she choked through a heartbreaking sob.  How could her daughter not see that she was one of the few people who brought her happiness?  She shook her head, cupping her daughter’s cheeks.  “Baby, you make me the happiest mom in the world.  Now, how about we cuddle and watch some cartoons before bed?”

“Yes, can we watch my favorite show?” Daphne asked, bouncing with excitement. 

“Of course.” Standing up, she walked into the living room with her daughter by her side.  Watching the silly cartoon, they forgot about the heavy conversation and enjoyed each other’s company.  Y/N would answer Christie’s questions tomorrow, but today’s conversation with Daphne reminded her that her family was more important than a handsome man. * * * * *

The bright sun peeked out behind the dreary clouds, drying the murky puddles from the sidewalks and streets.  Birds flew from the damp branches, lightening the solemn mood with cheerful chirps and songs.  People fled from their busy schedules to spend a few moments outside, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of nature. 

Since her next client booked a later appointment, she decided to eat lunch at the nearby park.  The fork poked at the roasted brussel sprouts while she watched the crowds of people around her, from the family of three setting up a picnic to the lovely couple sharing a lunch before their offices called. 

There were moments when her parents dropped all worries and duties to escape into nature for a few days, like the weekend her parents planned an impromptu camping trip because the deadlines became too much, so instead, they taught her how to build a fire and enjoy the music of the critters.  She carried that sentiment into her life, finding moments throughout the week to feel the fresh air on her skin.  However, her buzzing phone interrupted her second of silent gratitude.

Sighing, she answered the call despite knowing what it would bring.  “Hello?”

“Hey, I need a favor.  Before you lecture me about the importance of parenting, just know that I will pick up Daphne, but my boss scheduled an emergency afternoon evening.  We probably won’t get out until six, so can you watch her until then?  I would ask Joanna, but her boss double-booked her.” With wide eyes, she pulled the phone from her ear to double-check that the man speaking with her was her ex-husband.

This man would rather spend time with his daughter than create an excuse to skip out on his fatherly duties.  Typically, she could hear the annoyance in his voice as if having a child were a burden.  While her heart soared at the possibility that her daughter might finally have a father who took an interest in her life, her mind questioned and created reasons why he suddenly cared about their daughter. 

“Of course, should I feed her dinner?  Or do you and Joanna have dinner plans?” She asked, thinking of how long it had been since she and Tyler had a civil co-parenting conversation.

He hummed in thought for a second before deciding, “We can feed her.  Wait, I almost forgot, could we keep her until Monday?”

Her heart stuttered when she thought about spending the entire weekend away from her daughter. She could not recall the last time she spent more than a few hours, let alone a day, without her. Also, she worried about her ex-husband's fatherly nature. Sure, she wanted him to spend time with their daughter, but she worried that he would not successfully prepare her for a school day.

His reassurance broke her reluctant silence.  “Y/N, you can trust me.  I have a few pairs of her school uniform, I know her schedule, and I will walk her to the front gates.  I can even update you.  Please, let me keep her for the weekend.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples with her free hand.  “Fine, but promise me that you will call me if anything goes wrong.”

Tyler chuckled, shocking her even more because she hadn’t heard that delightful sound in so long.  “I promise.  Joanna and I planned a Sunday dinner with my parents, and they asked if they could see Daphne, complaining that they haven’t seen her since her birthday party.”

Rolling her eyes, she exhaled the irritation growing in her chest. Her relationship with Tyler's parents was rocky. During their first meeting, they wooed her with luxury cars and expensive food, which differed from the lifestyle she grew up with.

However, once she announced her pregnancy, his parents uninvited her to their events and took to uttering hateful comments about their future granddaughter. Everything about the situation threatened their social status in the gated community. The cruel comments ceased the moment they laid their eyes on the beautiful baby, and instead, they turned their cold glares and vicious whispers toward Y/N.

They criticized her parenting skills and provided unwarranted advice on how to raise a polite young lady. Despite their hostility, Y/N sent frequent updates and planned weekends for them to visit, so their comment to Tyler irked her. If they had not seen Daphne since her birthday party, it was because they chose not to. 

“When will your parents stop being so charming?  Daphne will be excited to see her grandparents.”

Tyler laughed sarcastically, understanding the trouble his parents caused everyone.  “I’m glad that someone will be happy to see them.  Well, I better finish these reports.  I’ll see you tonight.”

Ending the call, she sat, shocked that they discussed their daughter without starting an argument. Throughout the years, she could count on one hand the amount of civil co-parenting conversations they had. She wondered how long this civility would last and if her advice about being a better father finally permeated his mind. She shook her head, deciding to focus on the positive rather than overthink the conversation until she found a reason to spoil it. If she was on after-school duty, then she and Daphne could stop by Dreams Cones, which meant she might run into Harry again. She leaned her head back, thanking the sun for blessing everyone. * * * * *

Children gathered around the marble counters to speculate about the new ice cream flavor, teenagers borrowed board games from a bookshelf to rid themselves of the pressures from school, and parents claimed tables to discuss upcoming weekend plans. 

Daphne sprinted toward the crowd, ignoring her mother’s stern reminder that people do not run indoors.  The magenta-colored ice cream gained everyone's attention because, unlike the other flavors, this new sweet treat lacked a name.  Instead, someone had scribbled three question marks onto the paper card taped to the glass display.

Harry chose unique names for the other flavors, so she wondered why he hadn't done the same for this one.  Perhaps he needed to workshop the name some more, but his excitement insisted that he could not keep the flavor from his customers any longer.  Maybe he chose a name but taped the wrong placard to the display. 

Breaking her focus from the mystery container, she looked up, expecting to find the grinning woman from their last visit; however, she found herself face to face with the owner’s irresistible dimpled grin.  All the air from her lungs became trapped in her throat, and her heart tried beating out of her chest and into his beautiful hands.

“Y/N, I'm happy to see that you and Daphne returned.”  The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter wildly.  Despite the numerous customers he met daily, he remembered their names and actually sounded happy to see them.  She wondered whether or not this man was real.

Locking away her bothersome emotions, she responded rationally and calmly.  “Thank you.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”  Well, she tried.

Harry's eyebrows shot up, but once the initial shock cleared, he didn't seem disgusted by her comment.  Instead, his warm smile shifted into a smug grin as if her slip-up intrigued him.  While he handled the situation with grace, she prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.  She pictured some higher being cackling at her as she shook her head fervently. 

“I'm sorry.  I meant to say I haven't stopped thinking about your ice cream.  I promise I'm not trying to hit on you." Her mind begged her mouth to shut up.  She didn't want him to think she didn't find him attractive.  "Not that you aren't incredibly handsome."

Processing the conversation, she groaned and dragged a palm down her face. At that moment, she decided someone could die from embarrassment. She recalled when she could speak normally with people she found attractive, but her skills must be rusty from their lack of use. 

An amused chuckle flittered past his rosy lips as he crossed his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying the sight of her squirming and scrambling to correct herself.  “Thank you, I needed that today.  I woke up feeling unsure about myself.  Would it be inappropriate to say that you look beautiful?”

“It's not, thank you.”  She mumbled, biting back a bashful grin. 

For a moment, she basked in his sweet words, allowing her heart to soar with excitement because he thought she was beautiful.  Would she replay this conversation before she fell asleep tonight?  Yes, she would repeat his words and alter the situation so that it ends with them on a romantic date.  Her dreams were the only space she could be selfish and chase after the life she wanted.  

Daphne watched the shy couple flirt with one another, stopping her staring only once to wave and smile at Harry when he looked at her.  Thanks to her friends, she realized that her mother might have a crush on the curly-haired man. 

During recess, she told Ziva and Andrew about the situation, and they informed her that her mother like-liked Harry.  However, Ziva raised an important question, did Daphne want a new father? She didn't know.  She never questioned her parent's relationship because her earlier memories always featured her father's girlfriend.  Did she wonder why her parents weren't in love like Ziva or Andrew's parents?  Yes, but if her father could be happy with Joanna, then her mother deserved happiness too.  She was hesitant to replace her father with Harry, but she would accept him because he made her mom happy.

“Hi Daphne, how are you?” He asked, returning her wave. 

“I’m excited because I get to spend the weekend with my dad and Joanna.” She announced through a toothy smile.

He glanced at Y/N, scanning her face for negative emotions before returning his attention to the little girl.  “I hope you have an excellent time with them.  Did you want to surprise your father with a cup of our ice cream?”

She shook her head while her mother answered his question.  “Although my ex-husband loves surprises, he despises anything sweet.” 

Then Daphne added some vital information, “He’s also allergic to milk.”

Harry chuckled, nodding slowly.  “Well, that’s too bad, but at least you can still enjoy ice cream.  What flavors will you two be trying today?”

Daphne found herself in a predicament.  The Lucky Charm ice cream promised colorful marshmallows and cavity-causing sweetness, but the mystery flavor guaranteed excitement and amazement.  What flavor did her mother want?  Could she convince her to order the new flavor while she stuck with the safest option?  Before Daphne could decide, her mother eased all of her stress.

“I might try the new flavor.” His dimpled grin reappeared at her response.

He nodded once before bouncing toward the purple treat, his head bobbing side-to-side with each step.  Elation radiated from his heart and soul, eliminating anyone's sour mood in a two-mile radius.  Y/N and Daphne shared an amused look and a giggle before following the man.  The short distance between them allowed Y/N to peek at his outfit for the day, which consisted of navy blue dress pants, a pastel blue striped dress shirt (which he folded at the elbow, a look she found herself drooling over), and a sweater vest with white sheep dotted over it.  She should hire him as her stylist since her closet consisted of worn shirts and blazers for work. 

“Recently, I created a new ice cream flavor, but I struggled with the naming process.  I wrote down multiple unoriginal names.  Until I had an idea to let my customers choose the new name.  If you order the ice cream, you will also receive a slip of paper to write down your idea and drop it in the box by the door.  In two weeks, the staff and I will choose our favorite suggestion, and the winner will receive free ice cream for a month.”  Once Harry finished his announcement, she realized a crowd of curious customers had gathered around them.  Perhaps she should have paid attention to the contest rules instead of watching his rosy lips curve around each word. 

“How fun and creative.  Can I have one scoop of the mystery flavor in a cup, and a–” she paused, realizing she hadn’t asked Daphne what flavor she wanted.

Luckily, he heard the lull in her speech and jumped in where she left off, “Daphne, what flavor would you like?”

“Lucky Charms in a cone.”  Daphne's anxious heart rested easy because now she could taste both flavors without the risk of wasting her Friday treat on an icky treat.

Before scooping the sweet treat, he readjusted his sleeves, pushing the starchy material further up his arm.  Y/N couldn't help but admire the concentrated crinkle between his eyebrows as he created the perfect scoop.  Her knees even went weak when his pink tongue poked out to swipe over his bottom lip.  Why did this man have such a powerful effect on her?  Was she really that lonely?  Her mind reminded her heart that true love did not exist, and her feelings were caused by a chemical reaction. 

“Here you go, love.  Be careful, the cone is a bit messy.” He mumbled, handing her their order.  While reaching for the cone, her fingers brushed against his soft hands, sending her heart into a frenzy.  What did her brain know about love?

Before Harry could ring up the two scoops, two teenagers shouted their orders at him.  He appeared hesitant, stuck between helping these new customers and continuing his conversation with them.  However, he chose the former in an attempt to ease the customers’ scowls.  Another cheerful staff member informed Y/N that he could finish where his boss left off, and although she doubted that, she followed him to the register.

“What does the flavor remind you of?” She asked, processing the tangy yet fruity flavors dancing along her tongue.  Did she taste blueberry or blackberry?  When was the last time she ate a blackberry? 

Her daughter hummed, tapping the spoon’s handle against her chin.  “Christmas.”

Confusion halted all other thoughts about the flavor.  Instead, she chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow.  “Christmas?  Why?”

The little girl shrugged, delving into her well-thought-out response, “Every Christmas morning, Grandma surprises us with blueberry muffins, and when I taste this, I miss Christmas and Grandma.”

In parenthood, there were many moments when a child might say something sweet, which not only made the parent proud of the small person they were raising but also brought tears to their eyes. She rubbed the corners of her eyes, catching any stray tears from rolling down her cheeks.  When she missed her parents, she would replay memories of Christmas mornings in her mind because they radiated love and happiness, and now, she learned that her daughter also cherished those moments.

“Well, we should suggest the name, Christmas morning.”  A gleeful giggle bubbled past Daphne's lips as she watched her mom write down the name on the slip of paper.  “Should we leave?  Your father should be at the apartment soon.”

Daphne nodded, sliding off the chair.  “I can’t wait to see Daddy.  Do you think he’ll take me to the zoo?”

While her daughter bombarded her with questions about the weekend, Y/N glanced over at Harry, wondering whether she should say goodbye; however, his furrowed brows and the crowded counter convinced her to walk away.  Dropping the paper slip into the box by the door, she answered a few of her daughter’s twenty questions.  She ignored the painful tug in her heart caused by the thought that she wouldn’t see Harry until next Friday. 

Reigning in her emotions, she reminded herself that she did not have time to date.  Also, why would Harry want to date a single mother?  She pictured him dating a beautiful, up-and-coming model who spent her free time ending world hunger.  He belonged with someone as wonderful as he was and who did not have as much baggage as she did.  Thankfully, Daphne pulled her mother from another spiral with a hilarious joke about cows and movies.  Laughter dissolved her stress as she wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, bringing her ball of sunshine closer so that her gray clouds might float away. * * * * *

Neon-pink lights illuminated the dark room while trendy music blared from a nearby speaker.  Draping a feathery boa around her shoulders, an optimistic university student discussed her dreams about the future.  She imagined exploring unknown locations, tasting world cuisine, meeting new people, and falling in love with strangers.  She might even find her soulmate on a beach in Greece.  While the camera captured the young woman's beauty, Y/N listened intently as if this girl were her daughter.  Through a warm smile, she showed her support for the young woman and her aspirations because they reminded her of the goals she made before meeting Tyler.  However, she hoped no one derailed this woman from achieving her dreams. 

“Scrolling through the photos, the woman gasped.  “Wow, you made me look beautiful.”  She whispered in awe, selecting the perfect one for her birthday Instagram post.

Y/N chuckled, returning the extra props to the storage room.  Since her next appointment was after lunch, she would reorganize the items once the customer left.  Easy days, like today, were great because they allowed her to catch up on simple tasks she kept putting off.  If she bribed her assistant, Kira, into helping, they might be able to leave earlier for lunch.

“Remember, the camera captures the art.  You were always beautiful.  I hope you have an excellent birthday.”

The young woman pouted her lips and cupped her chest.  “Thank you.  Can I give you a hug?”

The woman briefly hugged Y/N, then spun around and walked out as if she were on her next mission, but not without almost bumping into Kira at the door.

“She’s in a hurry,” Kira mumbled, glancing back at the young woman getting into her Uber ride. 

Y/N grinned. "It's her birthday, so she scheduled a self-love day. What did you bring me?" She asked, eyeing the two plastic cups filled with iced coffee. 

Growing up, she despised coffee and coffee-flavored products. However, once she gave birth to Daphne, her body craved the extra energy, juggling between university classes and a newborn baby.  As long as she flavored the drink with creams and syrups, she could find the strength within to swallow the liquid.  Now, her body could not function without an ounce of coffee coursing through her veins.

“I ordered two brown sugar coffees with oat milk.  Have we tried that one?” Her assistant asked, handing her the cold drink.

Every week, they ordered a drink they hadn’t tried before, but she also didn’t remember trying this drink, so it had to be new.  She shook her head, sipping the caffeinated beverage, immediately tasting the harsh, bitter coffee notes rather than the sugary sweetness she was used to.  She couldn’t disappoint her assistant, who appeared to love the drink by the speed at which she was drinking it, so she hummed and nodded her head as if the drink impressed her.

“Thank you.  It's delicious, but I miss my usual order."  She lied partially because she did miss her favorite caramel-flavored coffee, but she did not enjoy the new drink.   

“I'm glad we tried something new,” Kira admitted before glancing at the crowded storage room.  “Do you need help reorganizing the props?”

She nodded.  “If we finish early enough, we can have a long lunch.”

“Sure thing.”  Kira followed her toward the room, pausing the moment she remembered the last-minute appointment she had not added to her boss's calendar.  “Wait, I scheduled an eleven o’clock appointment.  The client’s name is Gemma Styles. She and her brother want to surprise their mother with a sibling portrait.”

“Okay, that sounds easy enough.”  She mumbled, loading a few props into her arms.  “Will you stay at the front desk and wait for them?”

While tidying the storage room, Y/N thought about Daphne and the weekend.  Tyler's parenting skills surprised her.  He planned a zoo visit, sent her photos of Daphne with the flamingos, and called her every night so their daughter could say goodnight.  He hadn’t been a present parent for two years, but she couldn’t be happier that something or someone finally woke that side of him up. 

Her only complaint involved the lack of information about yesterday’s dinner with his parents.  When she asked about his parents, he avoided the subject, which meant they either criticized his parenting skills or hers, but curiosity bubbled within.  What did they say?  If it was about her, did he stand up for her?  Was it about Joanna?  She hoped Daphne could answer these questions when she picked her up from school.

“Welcome to Artistic Lens.  My name is Kira.  How may I help you?” Kira’s question announced the arrival of her afternoon clients. “Hello, I’m Harry.  This is my sister Gemma.” Her ears perked up the moment she heard his angelic voice. 

Her hands paused their movements while her mind raised questions.  Was Harry actually in her studio?  Did he know she owned this space?  Is that why he chose this location?  Wiping the sweat from her palms onto her jeans, she ignored the questions distracting her from moving. She cleared her throat, reminding herself to remain professional because he was her client first and potential crush second.  She could not afford another slip-up like the last time they spoke.

She spotted his curly locks first, then his floral sweater, which featured an array of bright colors like turquoise and sunflower yellow.  Gemma, his sister, wore a floral dress that contained similar colors to her brother's outfit.  The siblings shared characteristics, such as their astounding beauty and cheek dimples.  She wondered if they had tried modeling.  She could picture them walking the runway in Gucci, Bode, and other big-name designers.

“Hello, I'm Y/N, and I'm the photographer.”  She plastered her best customer service grin onto her face to appear unbothered. 

When he heard her voice, Harry experienced four distinct emotions: confusion, realization, happiness, and lastly, embarrassment.  A sheepish grin unraveled across his face while his eyes met hers once before glancing around the room.  She smiled at his sister, chalking up his shy behavior as his reaction to seeing her outside the ice cream parlor, like a student seeing their teacher out in the wild.  However, Kira and Gemma witnessed the interaction, leading his sister to embarrass him further.

“It’s lovely to meet you.  Harry, didn’t you just tell me about a woman named Y/N, who you found very—” Harry’s eyes widened, and his hands covered his sister’s mouth before she could finish her sentence.

While Gemma shoved her brother away, Kira and Y/N shared an amused look. He huffed, fixing his posture and rolling his eyes. Y/N giggled, finding the entire situation sweet and flattering because, according to his sister, Harry talked about her. 

“Harry and I have met.  My daughter and I love his ice cream shop.  Now, tell me about your vision.”

She moved the conversation forward and away from their flirty friendship, watching his shoulders deflate and his dimpled grin return as if he could finally relax.

“Our mom always complains that we never take pictures together anymore, so we planned on surprising her with photos of us.” Gemma explained, obviously taking charge of the surprise.

Y/N nodded, motioning toward her camera and the backdrops.  “Great, we can get started over there.  Kira, will you bring us the wooden bench from the storage room?” While her assistant disappeared to the storage room, she positioned the Styles siblings in front of the gray backdrop.

Before beginning the photoshoot, she checked the lighting, flipped through the camera settings, and examined their outfits. Harry paired his bright sweater with beige pants, and Gemma tied a pink scarf around her neck to match the peonies on her brother's top. She feared the light colors might wash out the siblings; however, the camera captured their beauty and radiating glow.

“You both look amazing.  I selected your first pose, but feel free to move and pose as you like.  I want the photos to look natural rather than two perfectly still models.”  She explained, snapping a few test shots.

Kira returned shortly with the bench, placing the item beside the backdrop. "Should I turn on your playlist?"

She nodded, “Sure, unless Gemma or Harry, do you want to play a certain playlist?” Lifting her head from the camera, she saw Harry shaking his head.

“No, you should play your music.  People find my music taste—” He paused, rummaging through his mind for the correct word to describe his music, but Gemma responded for her brother before he could even stop her, “Eclectic.”

“Yes, so please, play whatever you like.”  His eager smile contained a level of excitement that she found endearing, almost as if he truly wanted to learn what music she loved.

Shuffling the playlist, she smiled when her favorite singer crooned through the speaker.

“I love this song,” Harry confessed, bopping his head to the beat. 

“Me too.  Don't you want to sing along?” She asked, humming with the love-sick singer.

She pictured a life where she and her spouse would listen to this music while cooking dinner. A life where they would sing along, off-key, of course, while chopping vegetables. Her spouse would grab Daphne's hands and dance with her around the kitchen. She would capture these important moments with her camera. A room overflowing with love and laughter. 

Lately, these daydreams featured a curly-haired, green-eyed man. His hands would grip her hips, spinning her around and away from the cutting board while he hummed some romantic song. They would waltz around the kitchen, discussing their days in hushed whispers. Eventually, he would let her finish dinner while he helped Daphne with schoolwork.  During these moments, she believed someone as handsome as Harry could love her. 

Gemma chuckled, shaking her head while finding a new pose.  “You don’t want me to sing.  Unlike Harry, some of us weren’t born with an amazing voice.  Did you know he was in a band?”

Her head shot up from the camera as she blinked the shock away.  Harry, feeling sheepish again, twiddled his thumbs while she stared at him in awe.  “First, who cares if we suck at singing?  We should sing along anyway.  Second, you were in a band?  Please tell me more.”

While dragging his fingers through his hair, a nervous chuckle fumbled past his rosy lips.  “When I was fourteen, me and my mates decided to start a band.  Our parents and friends hired us for local events, but the band barely survived two years.”

“During his university years, he performed solo at pubs.” Gemma added, smiling proudly at her brother.

Y/N smiled through her shock.  During their university years, she and Tyler spent many weekends at pubs, and now, she wondered if she and Harry were ever in the same room. However, she thinks she would have remembered his angelic voice and alluring presence. 

“Well, I think that’s amazing.  You are quite the catch, Harry.”  She winked, bringing back his dimpled grin. 

Continuing the photoshoot, Y/N focused on backdrops, props, and poses. Everyone fell into a comfortable silence, only speaking when Gemma mentioned a topic she planned on discussing on her podcast. During these moments, Y/N agreed with her positive attitudes and views. She could see Gemma joining her and Christie for Sunday brunch, where they could gossip and laugh over mimosas. Should she befriend the sister of the man she was crushing on? Her eyes washed over him, admiring the sparkle in his green eyes and the two tattooed swallows on his chest. She paused. When did this gentle, shy man get two tattoos?  Were there more?

“You have a tattoo.” What should have been a question came out as a statement, one that made Harry scan his body as if searching for which tattoo might be on display, which only answered her question that there must be more than the two on his chest, then with a furrowed brow and worried eyes, he made eye contact with her intrigued ones.

He cleared his throat before speaking up. “Yeah, I have multiple tattoos.  During uni, my mate bought a tattoo gun, which resulted in many stupid tattoos, but I don’t regret them.  They remind me of a different time.”

While listening to his explanation, her heart fluttered.  “That’s incredibly sweet.  I want a tattoo, but I’m terrified of needles.  I nearly fainted when the nurses gave me the epidural for Daphne’s birth.” Her confession made the siblings chuckle.

“I was like that during my first tattoo, but now, I'm a pro.  If you really want one, I could come with you to keep you company."  He stuttered through the end of the sentence as if his mind processed what his mouth said.  “Unless you want to bring anyone else who isn’t a complete stranger to you.”  He rambled, trying to fix his earlier statement.

She shook her head with an amused giggle.  “Harry, you aren’t a complete stranger.  I’m very touched by your offer, and if I ever decide to get a tattoo, you will be the first person I call.”

He sighed with relief, dropping his shoulders down from his ears.  Gemma observed the interaction, noting her brother's unusual behavior.  Throughout her life, she witnessed Harry's confidence first-hand.  From the moment he could talk, he loved being the center of attention, and his charming attitude introduced him to more relationships than she could remember.  She recalled a time when he tripped over a rug, ripped his pants, and still received a phone number from the person he was chatting up.  His confidence carried him through life, and she had never seen it falter until she watched her brother flirt with the photographer. 

“Okay, we are all done.  I think your mother will love these.” Y/N bragged because although she captured the magic, she couldn’t have done it without Gemma and Harry’s natural beauty and warmth.

“Thank you so much.” Gemma giggled with excitement, wrapping her arms around the photographer’s body.

Y/N chuckled, returning the comforting hug.  She spotted Harry’s warm smile over Gemma’s shoulder, which served as his “thank you” for the photographs and for entertaining his sister.  The smile resembled that of a loving boyfriend, happy that his girlfriend impressed his family.  Her stomach clenched with butterflies at the idea of Harry as her boyfriend. 

She pulled away from the hug, dropping her gaze from him. “Once I edit the photos, I’ll send them to you.  Should I have any questions, is the number on file a good one to reach you at?”

Gemma nodded, then hummed as if a thought just struck her. “Well, I probably won’t answer if I’m in an interview.” She turned toward her brother with a mischievous grin, revealing her intentions. “You should give her your number too.  You answer the phone more than I do.”

He nodded once, scribbling his number onto the contact sheet Kira provided them. Y/N could sense his annoyance with Gemma's constant embarrassing comments, so she planned to make the rest of the interaction fast and painless. She handed Kira the sheet, which they would file later, and then faced the siblings.

“Great, I hope you two have an excellent day.” Y/N smiled.

Harry mumbled a “you too” under his breath, shuffling toward the glass door, unlike his sister, who had one more plan up her sleeves. “Wait, have you eaten lunch?  Harry and I would love to treat you to lunch as a thank you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing with every reason why she should not accept the invitation.  Harry noticed the hesitation in her eyes, which landed on his, and searched for any sign that he did not want her to join them, but all she found was a warm welcome.

“You should come.  I’d love to get to know you more.”  He spoke up, running a hand through his hair.