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I bent at the waist, kissing the top of her head. She reached for her hair, sliding tomato sauce and noodles through the strands. Laughing, I took a step back. “I guess it’s good you’re getting a bath after this.”
“She never eats a meal without making a mess,” Skyla observed, her amusement curling up the corner of her lips. “It’s pretty cute.”
I’d say the same thing about the secret smile that often escaped around my Zara. Something about my little girl brought out the joy in Skyla. Maybe that was why I decided to let her become Zara’s caretaker. If I couldn’t be here, I wanted someone to show the same love, kindness, and patience I would. Skyla seemed the most capable of anyone I knew.
“Well, she takes after her old man. Good genes.”
Skyla glanced my way fleetingly. “True.”
A pang of guilt hit my chest.Zara’s half Cindi too.
I let Zara finish her spaghetti while I removed my cut and t-shirt, knowing her little hands would make a mess of my clothes. “How about that bath now, my little Z-bear?”
“Dada!” she screeched, trying to climb out of the high chair. The belt kept her confined to the seat, and she slapped the tray. “Wawa!”
Zara loved bath time as much as food. She couldn’t say water, so the word always came outwawa.
Skyla laughed, unbuckling the belt and reaching for Zara, picking her up and turning my way. I snatched up my daughter, tossing her a little in the air as she squealed.
We walked into my room to enter the attached bathroom. Skyla turned on the faucet of the tub, checking the water for the right temperature. A little seat with a suction cup bottom was placed down so Zara could play with her toys while I washed her up.
I sat on the closed toilet seat once she was secured, smirking when her little palms slapped at the water, resulting in numerous giggles.
“She sure loves the water,” Skyla mused, sinking to the floor on her knees in front of the tub, picking up one of Zara’s little plastic fish, and zooming it around in front of her.
“Wawa,” Zara announced, a huge grin on her face.
“Water is so fun, huh, sweetie?”
“Wawa,” she repeated, no doubt agreeing with Skyla.
I watched them interact, feeling a warmth settle in my chest. Cindi played with Zara like this, taking special care and attention with our baby girl. Skyla never saw that, and yet, here she was, taking the same care of my child. Maybe all women had strong maternal instincts, especially with babies.
Zara picked up her hand and slapped it hard on the surface, a large splash soaking Skyla’s shirt, face, and hair.
“Ahhhh!” she screeched, laughing. “I swear you do that on purpose every time, Zara.”
My devious little daughter lifted her hand, checked to be sure we both watched, and then hit the water again, causing another huge splash.
My jeans were soaked on the thigh, and water dripped down the side of Skyla’s face. A loud laugh rumbled through my chest as Zara giggled.
“Dada.”
“Yeah, baby girl. I’m your daddy.”
She wiggled her little bottom, dipping her fingers in the warm water. “Mama.”
My chest constricted.
She turned to Skyla, giving her a bright smile. “Mama.”
Shit.
“No, baby, that’s not—”
Zara wasn’t having it. “Mama.” Her brow rose like she dared me to contradict her again.
“Not mama,” I replied softly, heartbroken that I had to say the words. “Mama is gone.”
