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“It’s not about the money,” she said to me a few nights ago, curled up in my arms. “Of course it’s not about that. But it’s a sign, isn’t it? A sign I was right to trust you, to follow my dreams.”
“It’s a sign of how amazing you are,” I told her. “And a sign you should’ve trusted in your talent all along.”
My gaze slides across the lawn – where Pooch and Pouch are sleeping, the sausage dogs lolling under the shadow of a tree – to where my wife sits. Sadie and her parents crowd around her, as though all of them are eager to be as close as possible to our newest addition.
Little Angela came along a few months ago, giving us five wonderful children in total.
My wife is wearing one of those summer dresses that always drive me wild and that look she gets when she’s recently given birth, a glow to her that makes her brighter than the sun.
The sight of her makes my cheeks ache from smiling.
“Daddy.”
I turn as Margot walks over, wearing denim overalls, just like her mom does when she’s painting.
“Hmm?”
“You’re smiling like a crazy man at Mommy.”
I laugh so loudly everybody turns to me. My oldest daughter always does that to me, surprises me with her banter. I catch Rosie’s eye and she smiles knowingly. We’ve both experienced our daughter’s wit on many occasions.
“What were you thinking about?” she asks, walking up next to me.
I look down at her, with her mom’s dark messy tresses, my eyes, and a cute smile that’s completely her own.
“Do you want the truth?”
“Um, duh.”
“It might make you call me soppy.”
She giggles. “I can’t believe you still bring that up.”
When she was younger, she went through a stage of chanting soppy-daddy soppy-daddy any time I kissed her mother. It was the most adorable thing.
“Okay.” I kneel, so we’re eye to eye. “I was thinking about how lucky I am. I was thinking about how amazing our lives are, and how proud I am of Mommy.”
Leaning back, I grin. “Okay, so let me have it.”
“No.”
A grownup look passes across her face, as it often does these days, as though she’s getting ready for her teenage years. It makes me ache because I want her to grow, to flourish, but at the same time, I wish she could stay a kid forever.
“No?” I ask.
She nods, breaking my heart and then putting it back together all in one gesture. She leans forward and throws her arms over my shoulders.
“I feel the same, soppy-daddy,” she whispers.
