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“One, two, three, four, five, six,” she rhymes off in quick fashion, her fingers also keeping count.
Lilah chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “That’s a little fast, sweetie. Next time, let’s try it like this… one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. I’ll do it with you.”
“Why Mississippi? That’s silly.” A light giggle leaves her lips.
I can’t fight the smile that overtakes my face. I’ve grown addicted to that sound.
“Because it takes you a whole second to say the word, so it’s a good way to count. You ready?” I arch a brow.
She nods, and the three of us look off in the distance and wait. Lightning flashes, then we all count out loud. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi, seven Mississippi, eight Mississippi, nine Mississippi, ten Mississippi, eleven Mississippi, twelve Mississippi, thirteen Mississippi, fourteen Mississippi, fifteen Mississippi.”
A rumble of thunder sounds off in the distance and we stop counting.
“How far is it?” Monica’s big, dark eyes look up at me as though I hold all the answers.
“About three miles. Every five seconds is a mile.”
She shrugs and turns to look back out at the storm, her hand moving from the popcorn to her mouth without looking.
I meet Lilah’s amused gaze over Monica’s head, and the tension that worms its way in whenever we look at each other, ever since that night I almost kissed her in the hallway, creeps in.
We watch for another twenty minutes or so, and when I glance at Monica to count again, she’s fallen asleep in her chair. I smile and reach over my daughter to grip Lilah’s shoulder with a light squeeze.
She startles and turns to me with wide eyes.
I nod in Monica’s direction.
Lilah smiles and meets my gaze. “Good thing I made her put on her pajamas before we came out here. I’d better get her into bed. That storm looks like it’s rolling in fast now anyway.”
“I’ll take her up.” I stand and gingerly lift Monica, careful not to wake her.
“Thanks,” Lilah says. “I’ll clean up out here.”
I nod and carry Monica into her room and gently lay her in bed. I wiggle the covers out from under her and pull them up to her shoulders, gazing at the tiny blonde angel who owns my heart just as much as her mommy did when she was a little older than her.
Her eyes open. “Is it time to get up?” She yawns.
“Not yet. Why don’t you lie back down?” I gently ease her head onto the pillow and pull the blankets up to her shoulders.
“Will you lay with me?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
“Sure thing,” I whisper, lying beside her on top of the blankets.
“Do you think we can visit that place you said you and Mommy used to go to a lot?”
“Shhh, go back to sleep.” I smile at her and make a mental note to speak with Lilah about having them come stay with me for a bit in Malibu so that Monica can see where I call home.
She's quiet for a minute, then her eyes open wide. “Am I allowed to call you Daddy?”
My heart stutters, tripping over a beat before picking up its regular rhythm. An indescribable elation fills me—part pride, part joy, part peace—as I gaze at my little girl with her mess of knotted blonde curls spread out across the pillow, staring up at me with big brown eyes that match my own and are filled with so much hope.
“Sweetie, I would love for you to call me Daddy.” I kiss her forehead.
“Okay, thanks.” A big yawn stretches her mouth so far it brings water to her eyes.
I can’t help but smile at her innocence. She has no idea she’s just rocked my world and given me the most precious gift.
“You’d better get to sleep. You mom will be upset if I keep you up much longer.” I wink at her. It’s our little joke that I’m always keeping her up past her bedtime when I tuck her in.
