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“Are you okay if Payton sleeps here tonight?”
She turns those brown eyes on me. I can tell she doesn’t understand why I’m asking.
“It’s just that I want to make sure you’re okay with her staying here. When you wake up in the morning, she might be sleeping in my bed.”
“Like married mommies and daddies?”
“Yeah,” I reply, choking on air.
“But you’re not married.” It’s not a question.
“No.”
“Are you gonna get married?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s too soon to know the answer to that.”
She looks to be deep in thought, so I let her work it out in her own head. If she has more questions, I know she’ll ask. Like most young kids, she’s inquisitive and never has a problem vocalizing her curiosity.
“It’s okay wiff me. She’s really sad and I don’t like to see her sad.”
“Me either, honey. That’s why I’m having her stay here. She’s very tired, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then I can take her home.”
“She said I can snuggle wiff her.”
“She did,” I confirm, giving her a slight grin.
“Can I be in the middle?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s go. She’s sad and needs to snuggle, Daddy.”
Together, we walk out of the bathroom and into my room. Payton is standing there, staring out the window, lost in thought. Her hair is brushed out, her face void of what little makeup she wore to the visitation. I notice immediately what she’s wearing. She has the button-up shirt that I consider hers now, and a pair of my cotton shorts. They hang on her hips slightly, hugging her thighs in a way that sends blood to my groin.
Not a good time, wayward dick.
Bri walks up to her and hugs her waist, pulling Payton’s attention back to us. She glances up at me, the question clear in her eyes. So, I answer her with a smile. Yes, this is okay.
The girls walk to my bed and climb on. Payton lies on her side with Bri facing her, their arms linked. I watch for a few minutes as they make small talk, my child telling my woman all about her school day and what my mom made her for dinner. I slip inside the bathroom and get myself ready for bed. Once my teeth are brushed, I throw on a pair of cotton shorts folded up in the laundry basket of clean clothes that I hadn’t put away yet.
When I get back to my bedroom from the en-suite bathroom, I flip on the lamp before turning off the overhead light. Then I make my way to my side of the bed and tuck in beside my daughter. As soon as I’m settled, I glance across the bed and into the emerald eyes of Payton. They’re laced with humor along with her weariness.
We lie together, my arm across Bri, her arms wrapped around Payton. It’s a lovely image, one I’ve never really allowed myself to envision. But now? Now, that I’m experiencing it, I’ll never get it out of my head. I’ll remember this moment, this mental photograph, for the rest of my life.
“Do you feel better, Payton?” Bri asks, her voice quiet as sleep starts to take her.
“I feel amazing, Brielle.”
Glancing up, I gaze at startling green eyes that reflect my own emotions. It takes every ounce of control I possess to not tell her that I’m in love with her. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, my eyes locked on hers. Her features are soft and relaxed. Content.
Payton’s eyes finally grow heavy and start to close. Brielle has gone quiet and still between us. I lie there, watching them both sleep for as long as possible until my own eyes become too heavy to keep open, and then, I finally allow myself to drift off to sleep.
One thing is certain: I feel pretty amazing too.
