Page 98 of Crack the Ice

“I’ll let her know you’re a fan.”

“Bye, Tom Tom,” Lily sings, moving to the sink to wash her hands.

He and Mav disappear behind the kitchen door, and I pull a loaf of bread out of the oven while Lily gets to work on mixing her ingredients. I’m not going to micromanage her. I don’t care if the kitchen gets dirty—that’s what it’s for anyway. Plus, I’m a huge believer in letting kids, well, humans in general, learn by doing whatever it is they’re trying to learn.

Mistakes make progress, and progress builds skill. Skills are what pay the bills. I hum softly to myself until the beat in my head gets too loud to keep in, and my blood starts to buzz. “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, his name is my name too,” I blurt out.

Lily looks at me out of the corner of her eye, her lips twitching at the corner. But I’ve done it once… I’ve gotta do the second verse, or it’ll drive me insane. “His name is my name too! Whenever we go out, the people always shout: There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! Da-da-da-da-da-da-da!”

I cringe, “Sorry.”

Her laugh catches me off guard, and apparently it catches her off guard, too, because she slaps her hand on the counter, but she misses the surface completely, her hand making contact with the corner of the bowl, sending the mango and gelatin mix straight onto her face.

“Oh my god!” I shriek, rushing to grab a towel. “Are you okay?” I ask, though I’m doing my best to breathe through my own laughter at her shock.

The kitchen door slams back open, and a panicked Mav comes to a skidding stop on the other side of the table. Lily scoops a big glob of mango off her face, her eyes falling to her hand before lifting back to meet mine. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and seconds later she’s launching the sticky yellow substance across the room, miraculously hitting Mav in the middle of his forehead, somehow in the little hole provided by his damn backward hat.

Holy shit, this kid has impeccable aim.

He jerks back, his hand reaching up to wipe it off. “Did you just throw food at me?” he asks, the tone of his voice giving absolutely nothing away.

“Yep!” she quips before scooping up another piece and throwing it at me.

It lands on my chest, and I watch Mav’s gaze heat as he follows it over the swell of my breasts, until it disappears under my shirt. Damn, that feels weird. The kitchen is silent for about five seconds until all three of us move at the same time, scooping up whatever we can find before launching it at each other. It’s a chorus of laughter back here, only getting louder when I realize Mav is willingly getting dirty.

My brother was right. He is normally uptight, even if I do find it endearing. And I was right. The man makes an amazing dad. These kids are lucky to have him, whether I ever came back in the picture or not.

“Mav,” I rasp out. “You’re covered in flour.” My hands meet my knees as I do my best to pull in enough air to catch my breath. But it’s no use because the man rounds the table and throws me over his shoulder, spinning me in a circle while Lily laughs manically off to the side.

I yelp when he bounces, throwing me off his shoulder and catching me bridal style. “You like getting me dirty, don’t you?” he whispers.

“I didn’t start this, Maverick.”

“No, but you sure as hell finished it, didn’t you, baby?”

My thighs squeeze together at the name. God, I love it when he calls me that. “I did.”

“Mhm.”

My feet meet the floor, and he kisses my forehead before stepping back. “I’ve gotta get to practice, and then I have therapy, but I guess I need to go home and shower first, huh?” He looks down at the front of himself, shaking his head at the mess of mango and flour that covers his clothes.

“Love you, my girls,” he says, eyes widening when he realizes what he said. “I mean–”

I shake my head, unable to keep my smile to myself. “Nope, no take-backs,” I say.

His hand wraps around the back of his neck, his cheeks darkening even under all that flour. “I wasn’t…”

I take the two steps it takes to get to him and slam my mango-covered lips against his. His hands fall to my hips to keep us upright. “I love you too, Daddy Reed.”

“Damn it, Cecy,” he mumbles against me.

“Say it again. Tell me for real, Mav.”

His eyes search mine. If he’s looking for any hesitation, he won’t find any. My mind is made up. He’s stuck with me forever, whether he wants to be or not. Call me a velcro girlfriend, stuck like glue, insufferable, whatever you wanna call it. We were always destined to find our way back to each other.

“I love you, Cecilia Samuels.”

“I love you, too, Maverick Reed.”