“You let me worry about me and my… visitors. You have enough on your plate.” It’s a dick move, and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, man. I’m out of my element here.”
“I get it. And you’re right. If my wife wasn’t so damn stubborn—” I can hear the frustration in his voice, which isn’t anything new, not when it comes to Ryder and Olivia.
“I feel for you, but I’m telling you sometimes you have to choose your battles. You love her, and she loves you. You two need to get past whatever it is and make it right.” This isn’t the first time I’ve given him this speech. I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“Call me later?”
“If I survive.” I chuckle.
“Oh, I have a feeling you’re going to more than survive. I’ll catch you later.” He ends the call before I can ask what he meant by that comment. I start to call him back and remember I need to check on the girls.
Sliding my phone into my back pocket, I make my way down the hall to the girls’ bedroom. Peeking inside the door, I see that the mess of clothes is somewhat cleaned up if you could call being shoved into dresser drawers and clothes baskets tidy. It’s clean for four year olds, that’s for sure.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
They both jump and stop to turn and look at me. “We need help,” Harlow huffs, pulling on her comforter.
“I think we need to be this many,” Hayden holds up her hand, displaying all five fingers, “to make beds.” She lets the top half of her body fall dramatically on the bed with a groan.
“You can’t give up,” I tell her. “You’ll never learn if you stop trying.”
“But I’m too wittle,” she huffs.
“Yeah, Daddy. We’re too wittle,” Harlow agrees.
“Life is not always easy. You have to keep pushing and working hard. No matter what you’re doing.” I’m trying to bestow some fatherly wisdom on them at their impressionable young age. Hell, if I know if it’s working.
“Yeah, but Miss Waken is coming, and if ours rooms not cwean, she might not cook the brownies,” Hayden argues.
“We weally wove bwonies, Daddy,” Harlow adds.
Bending my knees, I hold my arms out, and neither of them hesitates to come to me, wrapping their little arms around my neck. My heart swells just like it does every time I get even the smallest embrace from them. “Daddy has a secret.”
“We won’t tell,” Hayden assures me.
“We pwomise,” Harlow adds.
“Daddy loves brownies.”
They gasp. “Does Miss Waken wove them too?” Harlow asks.
“I don’t know, baby. I’m sure she does. Who doesn’t love brownies?”
“We hafta ask her,” Hayden announces.
“We can do that when she gets here. Right now, I need you to help me make your beds.” That’s all it takes for them to rush off to their respective bed and wait for me to help them make it. It ends up being all three of us making each bed because, if anything, my girls love to help. We’re just finishing placing Harlow’s stuffed animals on hers when there’s a knock at the door.
“It’s her!” they say in harmony and rush out of their room and down the hall.
“Wait for me!” I call after them.
When I reach the living room, Laken is standing at the door and giving my girls a stern look. “Did I not hear your daddy yelling for you to wait for him?” she asks them.
“But you’s not a stwanger, Miss Waken.”
“I might not be a stranger, but you never answer the door on your own. You never know who is going to be standing on the other side. It’s important that when your daddy makes rules that you listen to him.”
She’s so good with them. I’m sure I should be upset that she’s counseling my daughters, but they look up to her. That’s easy to see. If her little speech helps keep them safe, then I’m all for it.
“Sowwy,” they say at the same time.
“Hey,” I say, walking the rest of the way into the room. “Come on in.” The girls take that as their cue to push open the door for Laken to enter our home. This is the only home they ever remember living in. I sold the house that Holly and I were having built the minute that it was finished. I just couldn’t bring it in me to live there without her. Instead, I found this place on the market. It had been fully renovated and was more than enough space for me and the girls. We packed up our rental and moved in a few weeks later. Laken is officially the first woman to ever step inside who’s not related to my daughters or me.
“Are you ladies ready to make some brownies?” Laken holds up a bag full of supplies.