Page 68 of Peaches & Pistols

Little girls run amok between the dance club, the fairy garden Mia painstakingly crafted on the patio beneath strings of twinkling lights, and the kitchen packed with themed party foods.

But the cherry-on-top of the perfect ten-year-old girl birthday party, is the cake. I don’t know when she found the time, or that she possessed the skill, but Mia handmade a two-tier birthday cake, decorated to match the magical theme of the day.

“Mia’s incredible.” Liv loops her arm around my waist, pulling me in for a hug.

“She is.” I sling an arm over her shoulders and squeeze her so tight she lets me go with a playful punch in the gut.

“She loves your little girl,” Liv swoons.

“She does.” I peer out the window at my daughter’s joyfully riding a unicorn in the snow.

“You love her, don’t you.”

“I do.”

Admitting it out loud punctures the balloon of pressure that’s been suffocating me behind my ribs.

Mia’s devotion and sacrifice are unmatched. A mother who risked everything for a chance at a better life. A woman who walked through hell and rose from the ashes glowing with hope.

I’m hopelessly attracted to every shining facet of this diamond of a woman. I’ve never been in love before, but everything points to this being the real deal.

If this isn’t love, I’m terrified to know what is. Nothing could possibly be more consuming or more binding than how I feel for Mia.

“Did you have a good day, sweet pea?”

“I had the best day ever,” Harper says, droopy with sleep.

I tuck her favorite blanket around her, the same one she’s had since she was a baby—impossibly soft from being washed hundreds of times.

“You got some awesome presents.” I sweep the hair from her forehead.

“Everly gave me my favorite present.” In the chaos of paper being ripped, giftbags being thrown, and tissue paper covering the floor like snow, I can’t recall what gift she’s talking about.

“Yea? What did she give you?”

Harper’s eyes light up, threatening to derail bedtime so I smooth down her hair in a desperate attempt to keep her in sleep-mode.

“The crystal Sparkle Time unicorn I wanted!”

I looked high and low for that goddamn toy at Christmas. Over and over I was told it was sold out. Harper hasn’t mentioned wanting it since.

How in the hell did Mia get her hands on one?

Harper’s smile is serene, snuggling into her pillow.

“Daddy?”

“Yea?”

“I wish Mia was my mommy too.” Harper’s declaration cuts straight through me.

I’ll never regret being a single dad, but I can’t lie and say I don’t wish Harper had an involved mother.

“What do you mean, sweetie?”

“Mia is Everly’s mommy, and Everly loves her so much. If Mia was my mommy I would love her so much and you could be Everly’s daddy too.”

Leave it to kids to say exactly what’s on their mind. I know what I’ll be thinking about every waking moment from here forward.