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"What's with that smile?" I asked.
"Can you also put glitter on them again, pretty please? Preeeeeeetty please?"
I laughed as I got off the couch. "Sure. I'll bring both."
As a single dad, I was out of my depth when it came to certain things—such as when was it appropriate for her to start wearing nail polish. But I'd given in to this. It was in the kids’ section at the drugstore, and the school didn't have anything against it, so why not make my little girl happy? I brought the clippers and the nail polish to the living room, and she clapped her hands in anticipation.
"I’m getting a manicure," she said proudly.
I was a pro. About ten minutes later, we were both watchingMoanain silence. She was holding out her fingers out to dry.
“Mom doesn’t like to do my nails,” Bella said matter-of-factly. “She tried once but kept looking at her phone and did it all wrong.”
“We’ll do it together,” I assured her, trying to keep my voice steady. I didn’t like to badmouth Sarah in front of Bella. Sarah had confessed to me once that motherhood wasn’t at all what she thought it would be like.
I was the one who suggested Bella live with me after our divorce, expecting her to fight me on it, but her reply was cutting.
“Of course she’ll live with you. The weekend will be hard enough. I don’t want to be a single mom all week. How can I attend all my events? People expect me to be at their parties. I can’t just bail.”
To this day I got angry when I replayed that conversation in my mind. But Bella was happy, and that was all that mattered.
She fell asleep halfway through the movie, and I carried her to bed, careful not to wake her up. As I closed the door to her bedroom, I went back downstairs and ate the rest of my beignet.
I remembered Scarlett’s expression when she first bit into hers. She’d clearly enjoyed it, which gave me an idea. Scarlett wanted king cake, and I had a burning desire to make sure she got it. I didn't understand why, but that was beside the point. I had the ability to do it, so I was going to surprise her.
I picked up my phone and called Beckett. He oversaw the bakery part of the business and had grown it from ten to twenty shops within the past few years. Business was booming.
"Hello, older brother," he answered.
"Hey. Got a few minutes?" It was always difficult to get a hold of Beckett. His social life was insanely busy.
"You know me. I always make time for family."
"I want to order a king cake."
There was a pause, and then he asked, "Now? Dude, I know that since you've become a dad, time runs a bit differently for you, but it's not Mardi Gras."
"I know. If it were, I’d just walk into one of our bakeries and buy it."
"Okay. You want to add it to the restaurant’s menu, or...?"
"My chef would like to taste one. It’s purely business."
There was a pause, and then he started to laugh. "Well, well."
"Beckett, I want—"
"Youhaveto let me enjoy this moment. It’s priceless."
"Are you going to make it happen or not?" God, he could be annoying at times.
"Hey, if the family wants something, I make it happen. My favorite baker is going to lose her shit, but I can handle her."
"Okay, thank you."
"Out of curiosity, why didn't you just buy one from Joe Gambino's Bakery?" They were one of the few places in town that sold the cake year-round.
"Because that stuff’s crap, and I want her to have the best experience."
