“You want to go around with a dirty face all day?” I ask my daughter.
She scrunches her nose but lets me finish.
I turn and sweep my gaze over Hope’s bright pink leggings and black tank top. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” She tugs at the hem of the top. “How was church?”
“Good. Teller brought his idea to the table.” I toss the paper towel away and set Grace down. She curls her little arms around my leg. “It went well. Although apparently Bricks is a bit superstitious.”
She laughs. “I can understand why it would seem creepy at first.”
“Rav tracked me down after to complain that I haven’t been to the new clubhouse enough.”
“Aw, I thought he didn’t want the married folk invading the Den of Sin?”
“That’s what I said.” I tap my hand against the still-warm coffee pot and pour what’s left into my mug. “I tasked him with organizing a family-friendly Halloween party.”
She laughs even harder. “So, you punished him by giving him work to do?”
I smile into my coffee cup. “Sure. Why not?”
“You’re diabolical, Mr. President.”
I set the mug on the counter and fill a water bottle instead. “I think I’ll go downstairs and work out. Join me?”
“Which room?” She lifts an eyebrow.
I drop my gaze to Grace who’s wide awake and curious about everything. “The gym.”
Is that disappointment pulling Hope’s mouth down?
I bend over to pick up Grace and hold my hand out to Hope.
Downstairs, I duck into the laundry room in search of a clean pair of gym shorts. When I enter the gym Hope and Grace are sitting on a large, thick blue mat in front of the wall-length mirror. I can’t remember the name of the pose, but Hope has the soles of her feet together, legs in a diamond shape and her hands curled around her feet, gently leaning forward. Grace follows her mother’s movements for a second or two then rolls to her back, throwing her feet in the air and laughing.
“Giggle monster is right.” Hope stretches her fingers and tickles Grace’s toes.
Thisis infinitely better than an awkward afternoon at our new clubhouse.
“Come here.” I sweep Grace into my arms and settle onto the weight bench. “You’re the perfect size for this.”
“Dada!” she giggles and squeals as I lift her up and down.
After a few reps, I sit up and study Hope, standing sideways in front of the mirror, examining herself with a critical eye I don’t care for.
I set Grace down and walk up behind Hope, cupping her hips and turning her to face the mirror. “What’s with the frown?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She runs her hands over her stomach and wrinkles her nose.
I rest my hand over hers, stopping her movement. “Any changes look real fucking good on you.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments.”
“I’d rather you were,” I answer honestly.
“I know it’s stupid.” She blows out a sad breath. “My mother was always so hyper-critical of me. My father too. But it’s her voice I hear, reminding me that I’m too pudgy.”
I’ve known from the day we met that she struggled with those issues, so I figured something like that was going on in her head. “I hate that your parents did that to you,” I say gently, pulling her closer. “But you’re the most important person in Grace’s life. I don’t want her growing up seeing you doubt yourself, because it will make her question herself.”