“Strawberry with bananas. Don’t forget the yogurt this time, Daddy.” She moves away from the crook of my neck to let me know I goofed up last weekend.
“I won’t. Not sure you’d let me either way,” I joke back, setting her on the counter, where she places her elbows on her crossed legs and holds her head up, watching me the entire time.
“I’m just making sure it’s got the right ingredients, Daddy.” The way she takes her time to say ingredients, it’s enough to make me chuckle.
“I know you are. Are you excited to go see Grams, Gramps, Grammy, and Grampy?” We talk, making light conversation as I go about making her smoothie. I make enough for Bentley, but I don’t dare wake her up, not even to eat. She’s our grumpy bear when that happens. Something she gets from Peyton, that’s for sure. Well, now it is. She’s been a champ through her other two pregnancies, but this one has knocked her off her feet. Yet she still manages to help me out in both the offices. Though it’s more remote than anything these days. We’ve hired two more crews for each office, and Adams Construction is thriving more than ever.
“Is it almost done, Daddy?”
“You must have woken up hungry today.” I put the strawberries, bananas, yogurt, and almond milk in the blender to make her smoothie, turning my back to hide the handful of spinach in it to make sure she gets her greens.
“You know what that means. She’ll be going through a growth spurt again.” I turn my head. Peyton is leaning against the wall that leads towards the kitchen, her hair up in some kind of messy bun, wearing my shirt. She’s always stealing my clothes when she wakes up in the morning, and I find I like her in them more than I like me in them.
“I guess it’s a good thing school is out for the summer, or we’d really have to do some shopping. You sleep well, baby?” I ask Peyton. I know she’s tossing and turning more than ever. Finding a comfortable spot isn’t easy when she’s coming up on her eighth month of pregnancy.
“I slept as well as can be expected when Sawyer here isn’t playing kickball in my stomach all hours of the night.” I pour Paige’s smoothie into her cup all while allowing her to sit on the counter, then make my way towards the woman I haven’t kissed good morning to yet.
“Morning, baby.” I plant a soft kiss on her lips.
“Good morning. I’d much prefer something a little different, but I know it’s your and Paige’s time. Which reminds me, Mom said something about dinner being at Bridger’s today and everyone meeting over there. She wants to take the girls for the night. Are you okay with that?” Her stomach stops me from bringing her body closer to mine.
“A night with just you and me? I’d be dumb to have an issue with that.”
“That’s kind of what I thought, but I wanted to double-check. Bentley was starting to wiggle around in her bed when I walked by. I hope you have her smoothie ready too. That girl wakes up ready to eat.” Bentley is the perfect mix of Peyton and me. At three years old, she’s a pistol though. I’m hoping Sawyer won’t give us a run for our money, but even if he does, we’ll take whatever life throws our way.
“Ready and waiting in the fridge. Let me go get her. I know it’s usually mine and Paige’s time, but I think the tiny tot needs some snuggles.” Having two girls softens your heart some. It also has you thinking of boys in their future, broken hearts, and that shit gnaws at your chest.
“I think she’ll like that. I’m going to make myself something to eat. You want anything?”
“Sure, I’ll have whatever you have.” I kiss her forehead, starting to walk down the hallway to Bentley’s room.
“It’s a good thing you’re okay with cereal, because that’s what I’m having,” she smarts off. Truth be told, that’s what Peyton eats most days during this pregnancy, which nine times out of ten means that’s what I’m having too.
“You act like cereal is something new. Woman, you eat it morning, noon, and night. Hell, sometimes you eat it for a late-night snack. Go eat. I’ll be there in a minute.” I smack her ass, letting her know I’m leaving.
Bentley is definitely going to need some extra cuddles this morning if she’s not up on her own accord and I woke her with the sound of the blender whirling.
I’m as quiet as I can be when I open her bedroom door. Looking towards the bed, I see Bentley has her legs stretched out, her arms over head, and when she sees me, she plops that thumb of hers in her mouth, but there’s also a smile around it.