Page 110 of Smitty

“With everything I’ve got.”

He gave me a nod, then quietly walked out. I closed the door behind him, and Brooke immediately said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being so nice to him.”

“Got no reason not to be nice.” I stepped over to her and kissed her softly before saying, “He means something to you and Anslee, so he means something to me. Simple as that.”

“You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I gave her a light slap on the ass. “Now, get back in there and finish putting away all your stuff.”

“It’s our stuff.” She gave me a playful shove. “And I need to figure out something for dinner.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. I’m too hungry to think.”

“Okay. I’ll give you three.” I thought for a minute, then said, “Chinese, pizza, or wings.”

“Can’t we get wings with pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, that’s more like two choices.”

“Okay. Chinese, pizza and wings, or barbeque.”

“Pizza and wings.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

She shrugged. “I needed that third option to be sure.”

“Pizza it is.”

I pulled out my phone, placed the order, and got back to work on the boxes. I carried the ones I’d finished out to the burn pile and got busy clearing out the living room. I was still at it when the pizza arrived. We stopped long enough to eat, and then we were back at it.

Brooke continued in the kitchen, and I wrapped things up in the living room. Anslee was becoming whiny that she couldn’t get into the cabinet. Brooke let out a tired breath. “Someone’s not liking the safety locks on the cabinets.”

“I should’ve gotten them put in first thing. Then, she wouldn’t know what she’s missing.”

“We were pretty busy, and she’ll be fine. She’s just tired.”

“Want me to put her down?”

“Would you mind?”

“Are you kidding? I could use the break.”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” she scoffed. “Grumpy pants isn’t going to be happy about giving up those pots and pans.”

“She’ll be fine.” I walked over and scooped Anslee into my arms. “Isn’t that right, peanut?”

And just like that, she smacked me with one of the lids and started wiggling to get down. Brooke giggled, but she didn’t intervene. She knew I could handle it. I pried the lid from her hand and set it on the counter, telling her, “You can have that back tomorrow when you make our pancakes.”

That didn’t win me any smiles, but she didn’t scream and cry either. I considered that a win. I took her to the nursery, changed her diaper, put on her PJs, and grabbed her favorite storybook. I could’ve just rocked her there, but I figured she’d be happier in the recliner.