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“Well, isn’t this a Kodak moment!” All three of them offer me a blank look, and I shrug. “It’s something my father used to say.”
“Papa Caden!” Lily cries, scampering over to hug me. I scoop her up in my arms and drop a kiss on her cheek before setting her back on her feet to rejoin Aspen at the table.
“Hello, my little Lilbug,” I say, ruffling her loose, dark hair. “Are you having fun?”
“We’re coloring!”
“I can see that,” I chuckle, meeting the nanny’s warm, chocolate eyes.
Aspen stands. “Hi, Caden. How was your day?”
The question gives me a shiver of unbidden pleasure. It’s ridiculous because I’m sure she doesn’t really care, and yet I suddenly have the urge to tell her all about the three consultations and the many Botox injections I administered. But I don’t.
“Same old,” I say, opening the fridge and casting Pike a casual glance. I do a double take as I realize he’s sketching, his hands working skillfully, unaware of my eyes following his quick, even movements over the page.
He’s drawing them!
I’ve never seen Pike do anything other than abstracts before, and I’m awed by the intricacies of his work. He must have been at it for hours, if not days.
He feels me watching eventually and glances over his shoulder with a scowl, folding his arms over the page like he did when we were kids at school, hiding his test answers from me.
“Are you going to stand there with the fridge open all day?” he demands sullenly.
I crack a grin. “You want a beer?”
Pike holds up a hand, and I ask Aspen if she wants one but remind myself that she’s on Lily-duty.
“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” I ask.
“Pizza!” Lily predictably calls out.
Zoe materializes from nowhere, as always, her blue eyes shining as she takes in the busy kitchen. “Did I hear someone say something about dinner?”
Taking a survey of the room, my eyes fall back on Zoe. “Lily’s feeling pizza tonight,” I announce. “But if we eat pizza one more day, I suspect we’ll all turn into pizzas.”
“What about tacos?” Zoe suggests.
Lily pouts sullenly. “I want pizza.”
Preparing for a tantrum, I brace myself, but before Lily can fully have a meltdown, Aspen speaks. “Tacos are my favorite!” she exclaims with far too much enthusiasm.
Uncertainly, the little girl looks at her. Aspen bobs her head vehemently. “I love tacos as much as you love pizza!”
“Oh…”
“I love tacos, too,” I agree, realizing what Aspen is doing. I snatch a beer out of the fridge and close the door. “Don’t you love tacos, too, Pike?”
“What?” Pike looks baffled by this discussion, his mind clearly on his work still.
“Tacos,” I say again. “We’d all like tacos for dinner, but Lily wants pizza.”
“Oh…” Pike glances at Zoe and then Aspen, both of whom smile at him encouragingly. “Yeah, I like tacos.”
Not the ringing endorsement that we are looking for, but it sways Lily enough.
“If everyone else likes tacos, I guess we can eat tacos,” Lily says in a small, slightly disappointed voice.
“Oh, thank you, Lily!” Aspen says happily, and the child’s face brightens with her glee. “I’m so excited about Zoe’s tacos tonight. Can we help you make dinner, Zoe?”
