“Mini golf. I’ve got a score to settle with you.”
I laughed. “Bring it on, little girl.”
I looked at her wide-eyed across the table. “Dylan did what?”
She giggled—the sound that still made me smile. “He did, Daddy. Three Cokes, one after the other, then he walked past Mr. Victor’s table and burped. It was so loud everyone in the cafeteria heard it. It was epic.”
I groaned. Dylan was in constant trouble with his history teacher. No doubt, Avery would be telling me the whole story when I got home.
Only then, I couldn’t laugh about it.
We had a strict policy about date night. What we talked about remained between us. It was the same as girls’ night and when I was with the boys. Unless Avery and I thought it was something important we had to share, we kept our children’s confidences. Luckily, nothing major had ever come up, until now.
“What happened?”
“Dylan stopped and looked horrified. He gave the best apology you ever heard. He even sat down and told him about how the phrase ‘excuse me’ started.” She giggled again. “He spent all night last night looking it up. Not even Vicky could be upset after his little speech.”
“Mr. Victor,” I corrected.
She waved her hand. “He’s such a jerk, Daddy.” She scowled. “I don’t like how he treats Dylan.”
I smiled at my girl. All three of my children were close and protected each other fiercely. Dylan and Carter might drive her crazy, but if someone so much as looked at either of them funny, she’d go all momma bear on them. The boys were even more protective of their only sister. Nobody was allowed to mess with their Mags.
“Dylan likes to wind him up.”
She snorted—another trait she had picked up from her mother. “He needs to be wound up. He’s the most boring teacher we have.” Leaning over, she grabbed another egg roll. “Seriously, I learn more from Uncle Steven and Auntie Caitlin during our family dinners than from old Vicky. He’s useless.”
“I know, kiddo, but he’s your teacher and he deserves your respect.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I gave her my patent don’t-argue-with-me look and she dropped it.
She finished her egg roll, wiping her fingers on the napkin. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, my girl?”
“I love my flowers.”
I still bought her a bouquet for every date. Avery told me she pressed one flower from each bunch I had ever given Maggie, and they kept them in a special book. I tried to change it up, but after ten years, I knew I’d repeated a few.
“Good.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If there was something I wanted, would you let me have it?”
I shifted in my seat. That was dangerous ground and I’d fallen for it before. “It depends.”
“It’s nothing dangerous or illegal.”
I felt slightly better, but still suspicious.
“What is it?”
“Josh asked me to his prom. I want to go.”
I gaped at her. “His prom? You’re . . . you’re fourteen!”