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CHAPTER THREE
“HEY, DADDY.”
Mark glanced up from the bathroom sink on Monday morning to meet his daughter’s sweet brown eyes in the mirror. She was wearing hip-hugger jeans that were getting a little too short, along with hiking shoes and a beige long-sleeved sweater. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that was decidedly crooked. His heart caught—how he loved this kid. “Hey, Kelse.”
She boosted herself onto the second sink, watching as her father scraped another row of shaving cream from his cheek.
“I fed Gilda.”
“Good girl. Thanks,” he said, while he rinsed the razor. “What do you want for breakfast? Cream of wheat or pancakes?”
She scrunched her chin for a moment. “There’s more dishes from pancakes, so cream of wheat.”
Mark stopped, razor halfway to his face, and grinned at her. “What do the dishes matter?” he asked. “You don’t do them alone.”
“I know.” Her voice was light. Her gaze followed his hand from sink to face and back again—just as it had done most of the mornings of her life. This ritual was one of the best parts of his day.
Before Kelsey, Mark used to shave in the nude. Since his daughter’s birth, however, he’d always had slacks waiting by the shower so he’d be ready to run if she called.
“I forgot to tell you, Lucy’s mom called and invited you over to play with Lucy after school Friday. I can pick you up on my way home, or you can spend the night and I can get you Saturday morning.”
“No, thank you.” The heel of Kelsey’s shoe kicked lightly against the cupboard as she swung her leg. Mark considered telling her to stop. But the wood was dark enough that scuffs wouldn’t show. And anyway, what showed could be cleaned.
“What?” he asked when he realized what she’d said, all thoughts of wood and scuff marks leaving his mind. “You love going to Lucy’s! And you haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”
Lucy and Kelsey had gone through preschool and kindergarten together before the other girl’s family had moved across town.
“I know. I just don’t want to this Friday, Daddy.” Those soft, dark eyes glanced up at him. “Do I have to?”
“No, Kelse, of course you don’t. But can you tell me why you don’t want to?” He dried his razor and put it back inside the cabinet. “Did something happen the last time you were there?”
“No.”
“Did you and Lucy have a fight?”
“No.”
“Was her mom or dad mean to you?”
“No.”
Something wasn’t right. “Then what?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. I just don’t want to.”
Short of calling his daughter a liar, which wouldn’t get the desired results anyway, Mark was going to have to leave it at that.
He didn’t like it.
“Turn around, sweetie. Let’s fix that ponytail,” he said, tugging gently on the beige-and-blue holder she’
d chosen and sliding it down the silky length of her hair. Her mother’s hair.
“I’ll call Lucy’s mom first thing this morning,” he said, compelled at least to try one more time. “If you’re sure that’s what you really want.”
She nodded, helping him create another crooked ponytail.
“HELLO?”
