“Oh, baby.” I press a hand to my chest with glee “You’re perfect.”
Evan’s eyes lift to mine as he manoeuvres a turn, and the second he sees me, the irritation disappears from his face so fast it almost makes me laugh.
His gaze moves slowly down my body, catching on the tight dress, the bare thighs, the silver heels. By the time his eyesreturn to my face, there is nothing fatherly or penguin-like about the way he’s looking at me.
Unfortunately, the costume chooses that exact moment to make a louder whirring noise.
I bite my lip.
Evan narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I would never mock the father of my egg.”
His mouth twitches despite himself. “This costume was a mistake.”
“This costume is the backbone of our family now.”
Elle nods hard enough that the top of her egg wobbles. “Daddy penguins keep the egg warm.”
“They do,” I agree solemnly.
Evan stares at both of us. “I look like a weather balloon.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Elle giggles brightly too, and the sound hits that soft place inside me that still remembers what it felt like when her laughter disappeared for a while.
It’s back now.Not every minute of every day, because grief and fear don’t pack up neatly just because the calendar turns over. But she’s six, and full of questions and opinions and startlingly passionate views on Halloween costume accuracy, and she laughs like the world has magic in it again.
Evan catches me watching her and his expression gentles, the way it always does when he senses a thought brushing too close to old hurt. But Elle is already tugging at one of his inflatable flippers, trying to direct him toward the front door and down the porch stairs.
“Careful,” I warn. “If he goes down sideways, we’ll have to roll him.”
“So helpful, Lucky Penny.”
“Always.”
He finally shuffles free of his daughter with all the dignity a man can have while dressed as an enormous penguin, then pauses in front of me. The costume prevents him from getting properly close, so he lowers his head instead, waiting.
I smile at him. “You need something?”
“My kiss.”
“Your kiss?”
“Don’t make me ask twice while I’m dressed like this.”
My heart squeezes ridiculously tight. I rise onto my toes, which is far easier in the heels, and press my mouth to his through the awkward gap in the costume. It should be funny. Itisfunny.
But his lips are warm and familiar, making my stomach dip.
“You look unbelievable,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Define unbelievable,” I whisper.
His eyes flick down again. “Dangerous.”
