“Uh-oh,” Iris smiles, walking into the kitchen, looking thoroughly fucked and adorable and sexy. “Whatever I said, I plead the fifth.”
“What’s the fif?” Olive mumbles around bacon.
“Morning.” I smile softly. “Sit,” I tip my head at the counter next to Olive.
“Sunday pancakes are the best,” Olive’s syrup-coated mouth smiles.
“Alright, kiddo,” Iris laughs, wiping Olive’s mouth. “Let’s try smaller bites, huh? Savor each delicious bite so the goodness lasts longer.”
Olive nods as if that’s the most sage advice she’s ever heard. “Daddy. Ginger.”
“She knows the rules. Humans get the human food first. She’s already eaten her food.”
Olive rolls her eyes playfully, shaking her head, then looks down at Ginger, patiently waiting next to her. “I tried.”
I set Iris’s plate in front of her. “You heading out later?” I ask, as it’s been her weekend routine.
“Oh. Yeah. I need to make sure things are ready for the week.”
“Where you always go, Iris?” Olive asks.
“I told you, love. I go visit my old home, say hi to my animal friends, and clean up a bit.”
“Do you have horses? Daddy is good with horses.”
Iris looks up and smiles at me. Fuck, I want to go over and kiss her good morning. Leaving her sleeping in bed was the hardest thing I had to do in a long time. But before the sun came up, I went to my room, in case Olive woke looking for me.
“I do. Not as many as the guest ranch, but a few. My favorite is Lilac. She’s a beautiful, light beige and white mare.”
I already ate, so I stand back, sip my coffee, and enjoy watching my daughter and this amazing woman laugh together and share breakfast.
This was your doing, wasn’t it, Gillian?
Look at our baby girl. I think we’re going to be alright.
“Can I ride Lilac?”Olive asks for the fifth time since we left the house.
“Kiddo?” I warn, eyeing her through the rearview.
“Not today, love, but maybe next week,” Iris answers.
“You sure this is okay?” I ask for her ears only.
Iris smiles, secretly hooking her pinkie to mine at the gear shift. “Definitely.”
I squeeze her finger and focus on the road.
I suggested that after breakfast, Olive and I tag along this time and see where she grew up. At first, she seemed conflicted, but the clouds cleared, and that smile I love aimed at me.
“You know what?” she had said. “Yes. I’d love for you and Olive to see the farm.”
Felt like a big step. Like, we’re really choosing to do this. Together.
Olive counts the cows she sees on the thirty-minute drive south. She and Iris try to one-up each other with jokes. I hum to the soft music on the radio.
I feel younger. Freer. Hopeful.
And desperately counting down the hours before I can get my wife alone and naked again.
