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Tonight is largely about introducing them to what Tiffany and I have become, but I’m still Elle’s father and I’ve got some questions about her relationship too. “You know, Elle, I wanted to ask you about something,” I bring up after Elle’s third suppressed giggle at Tiffany’s affection for me. “We still haven’t discussed the copying incident, dear?”
Colton chokes on his bite of spaghetti, the only thing Neve is eating currently during her ‘schnoodles’ phase. “You know?”
Elle is my daughter through and through and plays it cool. “And we’re not going to, Dad. What I do with Colton’s copier is our business.”
“Do, not did?” Tiffany interjects, and Colton jumps in to change the subject.
“Ah, Daniel, how’re things at the office?”
Back when Colton and I were in competition for the CEO role, we never would’ve had a casual conversation about office happenings. In fact, most of our conversations were on the verge of becoming bloodbaths. But we’ve settled into our roles, his as VP in London and me as CEO in the States, and it’s considerably less cutthroat now. Actually, without the competition overshadowing our relationship, we’ve developed a friendship. One built on ‘only you would understand this insanity.’ Sometimes, that’s related to work, and sometimes, it’s about Elle.
So telling Colton about the TRE debacle is relaxing. There are times I even laugh about it, telling Colton and Elle about Mark and Brandon’s unexpected and ridiculous fight in the lobby.
“What was it you called it, Tiffany?” I ask. “Ultimate Fail Championships?”
“Something like that,” Tiffany says with a laugh, bringing up her hands and weak slapping at the air in an unfortunately spot-on depiction of Mark and Brandon. Neve copies her, sending a noodle flying. “Oops!”
“It’s okay, it’s tile,” I reply easily, giving my granddaughter a mock stern look. “Now no more slinging pasta, little lady.” My mobster accent isn’t the best, but it’ll do to keep Neve’s attention and entertain her.
“Singing ass-ta!” Neve repeats, obviously still struggling with her Ps. “Ass-ta!”
“Oh, God,” Elle groans. “Ass ta? Seriously, Dad?”
“Sorry, not sorry. One day you’ll appreciate the adorableness of how she says things. I remember you mispronouncing ‘fire truck’ for ages. At the time, mortifying. In memory, hilarious. Do you remember asking the firefighter at the grocery store where his ‘fire truck’ was? He had you say it like three times because he was sure you would get it right and finally get the tr- sound. Spoiler alert, you didn’t. What you did was get louder and louder every time he asked.”
Elle smiles. “I don’t remember that.”
“You were around four, maybe?” I think back, the memory bringing an answering smile to my face. “Anyway, Ricky and Billy were making bets as soon as it turned physical. Surprisingly, Billy won with his gamble on Brandon.” I shrug, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t have bet on either of them myself.”
We eat for a moment, Elle helping Neve hold her fork in her fist. After a bit, I ask Colton, “How’re things at the office?”
“We’re doing well . . . though much less exciting. No lobby fights or sabotage, thankfully,” Colton says, sharing what the London branch is doing, though I already know since I keep a close eye on everything, everywhere. “We’re considering making baby showers a monthly thing, combined for everyone due that month. You know it’s getting to be a bit much when I’m getting marketing emails from the local baby boutique.”
My eyes jump to Elle, but she shakes her head. “Not me. But Colton’s had three upper management guys share that their partners are pregnant, and another five women in the office either have babies or announced their pregnancy.”
Colton corrects her. “Six. Isla told me she’s expecting a couple of days ago.”
“I didn’t know that!” Elle squeals. “That’s her second, right?”
“Third,” he tells Elle. To me, he asks, “Think we can write off a water sample test? I think it’s in the water cooler in the office.”
I laugh, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Elle staring curiously at Tiffany, who is watching Neve with adoration, and to be quite honest, making a fuss over the little girl. But despite the sweet look in her eyes and silly talk, Tiffany seems a bit stiff, maybe even distracted, and I take her hand beneath the table, rubbing my thumb along the back of her hand. She smiles at me reassuringly, but the edges of her lips are trembling a bit.
Is she still nervous? I think everything has been going well with the new dynamic between me and Tiffany and Elle.
“Would you mind helping me with dessert?” I ask, and Elle hops right up.
“Sure, Dad,” she says, but I wave her down.
“I, uh, meant Tiffany.”
Colton gives me a grin, probably thinking a few lewd ideas, while Elle blushes. Tiffany wipes her lips with her napkin and stands up, but she still seems . . . off. “Of course,” she says, putting her napkin on the table. “We’ll be back in a second, guys.”
