Page 25 of Icing on Top

Terri had the front door open by the time I’d parked my car and climbed out.

“Thank you,” I blurted. “I’m sorry you had to go and pick her up. I was—”

“It’s fine, Jeremiah,” she interrupted. “It’s what I’m here for.”

My skin itched. The whole reason I’d chosen to move back to Denver after retiring was to be near family for Charlie’s sake. But I had never been one to lean on others for help, and it was a difficult habit to break. Add on growing up with an absent father who worked all the time, and I was determined to be the one that Charlie could always count on.

“Still. I really appreciate it, Terri.”

She smiled gently and gave my arm a quick but reassuring squeeze before donning her coat and heading out. I didn’t wait to make sure she’d safely made it to her car like usual, instead beelining for the living room.

“Hey, Tot.”

Charlie looked away from the TV screen and sent me a small smile, her eyes noticeably lacking their usual sparkle. I sat down on the edge of the couch next to her and reached up to brush her hair back from her forehead, checking her temperature as I did so. No fever.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” she croaked.

“Stomach still upset?”

She just nodded. It was her trembling bottom lip, though, that concerned me the most.

“Charlie. What’s wrong?”

Big tears slid down her cheeks. I didn’t hesitate to pull her up and into my arms.

“Why don’t I have a mommy like everyone else?”

I would have rather had a hundred pucks shot at me with no padding on than hear those words come out of her mouth.

“Tot,” I breathed out, holding her tighter for both our sakes.

What was I supposed to say to that? What could I say? Because life can be cruel?

“What brought this on?” I asked instead.

“We’re doing a class bake sale, and our teacher had us brainstorm what we could bring. Everyone kept sharing their favorite things to bake with their moms, but I couldn’t and—”

Her bottom lip started to quiver, and I tucked her more securely underneath my chin.

“You know, you may not have a mommy to bake with, but you still have me.”

Charlie pulled back enough to give me a disbelieving look. “Daddy, you can’t even make pancakes.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then quickly clamped it shut. Okay, so baking wasn’t a skill I possessed. But there had to be a way that Charlie could still participate.

A certain blonde-haired baker came to mind, then.

“What about Coach Zo? We could get some of those Puffins muffins from her.”

“Or her mini cupcakes?” Charlie’s frown suddenly deepened. “But isn’t that cheating to get them from the bakery?”

Well, damn. She had a point.

“What if we had her come here, and you helped her bake them?” I offered.

The idea went against everything I’d just decided on the drive over about reducing my interactions with Zoe, but in this case, I was putting Charlie first.