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Lucy usually made a whole learning production of things when she tied Ava’s shoes; Ava had to be a hot second from figuring out how to tie them herself. But I could never remember the chant Lucy said when she did it, so I simply whipped them together without the tutorial. Which meant I wasn’t quite as entertaining as Lucy and therefore was rarely asked to do this.
And that made me curious as to where my beautiful wife currently was.
“Where’s Mommy, anyway?” I asked, furrowing my brow because she was usually out here by this point, fixing breakfast with me. I had actually been giddily excited about beating her to the kitchen this morning. I wanted to have her food ready for her by the time she walked in, but a glance at the time got me worried instead.
Why was she running this late?
“She was sick in the bathroom,” Ava announced with way too much optimism.
“Sick?” I repeated, blinking at her. “What do you mean sick?”
Ava shrugged and held up a piece of paper I hadn’t realized she’d been holding the whole time. “She threw up a whole lot in the potty. But she’s blow-drying her hair now. Want to see the new picture I made?”
“I…” Torn between paying attention to the five-year-old and checking on Lucy, I glanced back and forth between Ava and the opening to the hallway. “She threw up?”
“Yeah.” Totally unconcerned, Ava lifted the picture, shoving it in my face. “This is you and me, and there’s Mommy. Then, that’s Daddy Duke.”
I huffed out a breath, figuring I’d check on Lucy in a second because I could hear the blow-dryer running now, so she must be somewhat okay.
Already knowing Ava wouldn’t let me go until I paid attention to what she wanted to show me, I focused on the picture as she pointed to a blob with wings up in the clouds, and I had to smile.
I still couldn’t think of my brother as angelic, so it amused me every time she gave him wings, even as it simultaneously pleased me that she included him at all. It told me I’d done a good job of keeping his memory alive for her.
“Then, this is Braiden, and that’s Cason.”
I furrowed my brow and asked, “Why is Cason all the way over there, away from everyone else?” I would’ve understood it if Braiden had been over on the side with him because they were brothers and didn’t live with us. But no, she had her cousin Braiden inside the house with us, holding her hand.
With a dramatic groan, Ava rolled her eyes and muttered, “Because he annoys me. I still don’t see why I have to ride to preschool with him every day.”
I chuckled and ruffled her hair. “It’s called carpooling, kiddo. It’s economical.”
“But why can’t I be economical with Braiden? He doesn’t pull my hair.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “He’s the good brother.”
I grinned, silently forced to admit she had a point. Out of Beau and Bentley’s two boys, twelve-year-old Braiden was a saint compared to the rambunctious four-year-old Cason.
“Don’t worry,” I assured, kissing her hair and rubbing her back. “You only have a few months of preschool left. And next year, when you’re in big bad kindergarten, you don’t have to carpool or spend all day with Cason anymore.”
She sent me a dry, untrusting glance. “Swear?”
“Pinky promise,” I added, holding out my little finger.
Nodding her approval, she wrapped her pinkie finger around mine and we shook on it.
“What’s this design on Mommy’s dress?” I asked, tilting my head as I squinted at it. It looked like another, tiny stick figure person. “That’s...interesting.”
“That’s not a design, Daddy.” Ava rolled her eyes and sighed with impatient authority. “That’s the new baby.”
I blinked and glanced up, certain I’d just misunderstood her. “The what?”
“But I’m not supposed to tell you about that,” she added conversationally as she spotted her cup of milk on the counter beside her and reached for it. “It?
?s gonna be a surprise that you find in the dessert Mommy’s making for supper tonight. She’s baking a binky right in the cake.”
When she tipped the cup up for a long drink, a voice from behind us gasped, “Ava Grace! You little snitch.”
I whirled around to find Lucy in the opening to the kitchen, dressed for work in slacks, high heels, and a tucked-in, flowy blouse. She had her head tipped to the side as she fitted on a pair of long earrings. But after clasping the last one into place, she set her hands on her hips, lifted an eyebrow at her daughter, and scolded, “You promised you’d keep the secret until tonight.”
“I know, Mommy,” Ava answered in a dramatic sigh before she wiped her milk mustache away with the back of her hand. “But he asked about the picture, and I can’t lie to Daddy.”
