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“I want to go play…” She smiled, giving me that look that made me incapable of saying no.
I smiled back and kissed her forehead, thinking of where we could possibly go out at this hour. Central Park was out of the question, as was any park, really. There was a twenty four hour donut shop nearby that we could walk to or—
I stopped mid thought. Kevin was having a special playroom built for her at the office, a room that was twice the size of his own. He’d said it would prevent me from using “I have to go check on Emma” as an excuse when we worked on demanding cases.
“I know somewhere we can go.” I picked her up and carried her to her room, helping her into her favorite shoes—a pair of red rain boots she wore every day, even when it wasn’t raining. “Okay, go sit on the couch so I can get dressed and then we’ll go okay?”
She rushed out of her room without saying another word. I really needed to find a way to curb her wake-up-at-three-in-the-morning routine ASAP, but a part of me liked it. It was our special time together.
I put on a sweatshirt and sent my wife a quick email.
Subject: Emma.
Taking Emma out to play. Are you still at the coffee shop?
Love you,
Liam
Subject Re: Emma.
What are you going to say when she asks you for a pony?
(Yes, I’m still here…Tax season is going to be the death of me. Want me to bring you a cup back? Want to try a latte?)
I love you more,
Ava
Subject: Re: Re: Emma
Nothing. I’ll just buy the pony.
(No, thank you. You know I really hate coffee.)
Impossible. I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Liam
“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Emma rushed into my room, knocking over a stack of folders. “I’m ready!”
Laughing, I put my phone in my pocket and attempted to stuff the papers back in order—stopping once I saw my signature. Forged.
Confused, I sifted through the other papers-noticing the same thing.
What is this?
“Let’s go, Daddy!” Emma tugged on my pants.
I tucked the folder underneath my arm and clasped her hand. “Your nap today is going to have to last for at least five hours. Do you know that?”
“I don’t like naps.”
“Of course you don’t…” I walked her out of our apartment and to my car. As usual, Ava had slipped a note underneath the windshield wipers.
Dear Husband,
I love you—so very much, and it pains me to see you, someone with as much money and status as you have, driving a car like this. I know you’re modest, and the most expensive suit you own probably costs eighty dollars, but come on! You have to live, Liam!
