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Her nose scrunched. “Don’t call me that.”
“If the shoe fits—” I let my voice trail away on the last word.
We pulled into the driveway next to Everly’s car. I’d gotten used to her parking there. My heart rate picked up each time I saw it.
“She’s here,” Wren singsonged.
I put the car into park and turned off the engine. “Fairy-tale plan in action.”
“Did you get new flowers?” Wren asked, ticking the items off on her fingers.
“Check.”
“A good playlist for music?”
“Done.”
“You showered after work?”
I sniffed my pits.
“You’re so embarrassing,” Wren said, looking away from me.
“Hey, you’re too young to be embarrassed by your father.”
“Not everyone has you for a father.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I said, getting out of the vehicle before opening her door.
Inside the foyer, I winked at Wren and called out, “Honey, we’re home.”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
I was so excited to have Wren home with us and to see Everly flitting about in my kitchen that I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to me, kissing her soundly. Pulling back, I asked, “How was your day, dear?”
My words were cliché, but the meaning behind them wasn’t. I wanted to come home to her every day. I wanted to see if the sparks I felt when we touched went further. Would they catch fire if we truly let go?
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Fine.”
“We’re going to turn that ‘fine’ into a ‘great.’ Aren’t we, Wren?”
Wren cocked her head. “Really, Dad?”
I winced. “Lame again?”
She sighed. “Very.”
“My daughter thinks I’m lame. I’m sorry,” I said to Everly.
“I think you’re cute,” Everly said as she opened the oven to check whatever she was cooking. It smelled like roasted chicken and veggies.
My mouth dropped open in mock shock and then said, “You see that? My lady thinks I’m cute.”
Everly sighed long and hard. “I’m not your lady or darling or dear.”
I hip-checked her lightly. “Should I call you schmoopie?”
Everly laughed. “Please don’t.”
