Unless I said no.
Luckily, that didn’t happen very often.
I picked up Angela, holding both my daughters in my arms. I bent low and kissed my wife. “Hi.”
She beamed up at me, laying her hand on my chest. “Hi, yourself. Hope you’re hungry. Angela insisted you would be starving, so we had to make lots of sandwiches.”
“Yep. Starving.”
She winked. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”
I laughed. I was always hungry these days. Holly was a great cook, and I had filled out over the years. My shoulders were wider, my chest broad, and my waist thick. Between my work, my girls, and life in general, my body had changed—growing sturdier the same way my determination and confidence had. I liked it. I felt strong and capable—a protector for my family.
Holly loved my muscles and showed her appreciation for them on a regular basis.
I liked that too.
A gust of wind blew through the trees, the branches swaying and bending deeply, dry leaves left over from fall dropping and swirling in the burst of air.
“Time to head in,” I announced, looking at the deepening clouds. “We might be in the studio for a while.”
“Can you light the fire, Daddy?” Angela asked. She loved the little potbelly stove I had in the corner of the studio. It threw a lot of warmth, making the room snug, even heating the shop below it. My girls loved to be warm.
“Yep.”
Inside, I pulled the heavy door shut behind me after setting down Angela. She ran upstairs, Holly following her, and I carried Hannah up with me. She was nestled into my chest, her little fingers gripping my shirt the way she always did. She loved to be held and snuggled, and I knew if I let her, she would stay that way our entire lunch.
I had no problem with that. I never denied my children my affection. I knew what it was like to grow up with none—to yearn for hugs and love. Holly and I were very liberal with our love for our girls—and each other. After all these years, that hadn’t changed.
Upstairs, I lit the fire, then shut the door once the flames licked at the kindling and paper, the heat beginning to build. Turning, I grinned at the sight in front of me. Hannah was waiting on the floor where I’d sat her, her chubby little legs kicking in impatience, her arms outstretched, anxious. I swooped her up with a flourish, delighting in her chuckles. She shoved a fist into her mouth, gnawing at her knuckles. She was a late starter when it came to teething, but she was making up for it fast.
Blankets were spread out in the middle of the room, Holly unpacked the lunch she brought, and Angela carried pillows from the pile in the corner, arranging them to her satisfaction. I sank to the floor beside Holly, nestling Hannah between my legs. She immediately pointed to the container of animal crackers, and I handed her one, amused by the way she grabbed it, chewing ravenously on it as if she hadn’t been fed in weeks. Between teething and her appetite, she had something in her mouth constantly these days. I brushed my hand over her wild curls and pressed a kiss to her head. Her only response was a growly noise that made Holly and me chuckle. Hannah was serious when it came to meals, and she concentrated fully on the food in front of her.
“The sideboard looks beautiful,” Holly commented, handing me another biscuit for Hannah.
“I’ll stain it next week, then varnish it. It should be done by the end of the month.” I glanced out the window as the glass rattled with the strong wind gusting outside. “Hopefully the sun will dry things out. It’s gonna be heavy enough to carry without worrying about puddles.”
Holly grinned, running her fingers along my bicep. “You’ll manage.”
Her touch made my body tighten. It always did. With a lewd wink, I leaned in and kissed her. Her full lips were soft underneath mine, and she tasted like coffee and something sweet and spicy—cinnamon.
“Did you bake today?” I asked eagerly.
Angela settled beside me, her cushions arranged to her liking. “We made pumpkin muffins, Daddy!”
“And raisin cookies,” Holly added.
“My two favorites,” I hummed. “Awesome.”
Holly finished unpacking the food, and I held a plate as Angela picked out her choices. Hannah was easy when it came to meals—there wasn’t a food we’d introduced she didn’t love. Angela was far more selective. Some crackers, a piece of cheese, and a peanut butter sandwich. Meat was a no go for her, as were most vegetables, although she liked carrots. Luckily, she loved fruit and yogurt, and our pediatrician told us to relax when I expressed my worry over her limited diet.
“She’s healthy and growing. She gets lots of protein with her choices. Let her find out what she likes and don’t force her. Her likes will grow as she does.” She patted my arm. “You’re doing good, Dad. Both of you are.”
I, like Hannah, loved everything, and I filled my plate with sandwiches, and all the extras Holly had made. I fed Hannah bits, listened to Angela’s chatter, and sat next to my wife, brimming with contentment. I loved these times with my family.
The fire warmed the room. Holly’s watercolors hung on the walls, and canvases were stacked neatly, ready to be used. I wasn’t the only one who thought her talented, and in the busy tourist season, one local shop regularly sold out of her paintings. I was incredibly proud of her.
“Daddy, I’m going to school soon!” Angela announced.