Cleo ducked her head, cheeks tinged with a bright flush. “I’m glad you loved them so much. You know, Ithink this is my best batch ever. It’s probably because you made a great sous chef.”
“A what?” Charlie asked, mouth stuffed full of a half-chewed dessert.
“Come on, sunshine. We don’t talk with food in our mouths.” In typical smartass fashion, my daughter grabbed the glass of milk and downed half of it in one go before mumbling a half-cocked, “Sorry.”
“It’s like second in command. I can’t take all the credit for making them because you helped, too,” Cleo explained.
I leaned back on the sofa, extending my arm along the back. My fingers brushed Cleo’s shoulder, and I fought the urge to pull her close. Other than a few very discreet hand-holds, we’d avoided any kind of physical affection in front of Charlie. She wasn’t blind. I was sure she could see how different I acted toward Cleo than her mom, but it didn’t mean I was going to go around kissing and holding her as though Liv wasn’t in the picture. “Did you have fun?” I asked, letting my finger skate along exposed skin.
I wasn’t a saint, though. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep my hands to myself in entirety, especially when she was so goddamn good with my daughter. It was surprisingly hot. I could at least let myself have this.
“I had so much fun, Daddy. I think I like baking.” Charlie turned toward Cleo. “Can we make other things, too?”
“We can make anything you want,” she murmured.
“What about a cake?”
“Oh yeah, I love making cakes.”
Charlie thought for a moment. “What about a really big cake?”
“Sure,” Cleo said, laughing. “We could make a really big cake.”
“Right now?”
“Nope, not right now,” I said, cutting in. “The last thing Ineed is you running around on a never-ending sugar high. Maybe for your birthday, though.”
“Wait, are we still going to be here for my birthday?” Charlie asked. I couldn’t tell if there was excitement or worry in her voice. Now, I was kicking myself for opening not only one can of worms, but two.
Cleo and I still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room. Sure, it was easy enough to say she was mine and I was hers, but there were logistics we hadn’t discussed. Where were we going to live? What about her job? What about Liv? Even though I knew we needed to figure them out, I didn’t want to burst this bubble of happiness we had going on.
“When’s your birthday?” Cleo asked, stepping in. She was likely thinking the same things as I was. After all, conversations were the whole reason we hadn’t entirely given in to the sexual tension between us.
“February 22nd,” she said proudly. “I’ll be seven. Does that mean I can have seven layers?”
Cleo hesitated, glancing at me before answering. “You know, even if I’m not with you on your birthday, I can still make you a cake. Or I could send you a recipe you and your mom could make together.”
“But I wanna make it with you,” Charlie whined.
The room felt heavier than it had before, the playfulness of the day disappearing under the weight of uncertainty. Why did I have to bring up Charlie’s birthday? It just seemed like the natural thing to do. In my mind, which was apparently a perfect alternate reality, there was no question whether Cleo would be with us or not. It was just a fact. She and Charlie would bake this big ass monstrosity of a cake while I watched and ate my fill. Liv would be there, sitting beside me, because the woman couldn’t cook to save her life. It wasn’t conventional by any means, but it felt right.
“We’ll figure it out, sunshine,” I murmured, saying it more to reassure myself than her.
Charlie shrugged, satisfied with my answer, and went back to munching on her cookie while Cleo stared at me. I was too much of a coward to see if she was pissed at my answer or if, maybe, she liked the idea of figuring it out.
I hoped it was the latter.
cleo
. . .
“Uno!”Charlie called as Grady and I stared at her behind our handful of cards. She laid a red two down on the pile, beaming at our misfortune.
“She’s a swindler,” I muttered, staring at my cards, which were woefully lacking in the ones I needed. The power had gone out over an hour ago, so we’d spent our time playing cards while hoping it would come back on, which didn’t look like it would be anytime soon. Outside, the storm was still raging. You could barely see the road through the thick sheets of rain.
Grady shook his head. “I don’t know where she gets it, honestly.”
“Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’ve never hustled anyone in a card game?” I drew three more cards before finally landing a red one.
