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Pebbles
“Cara! We have to go!” I yell up the stairs at my 12-going-on-20 year-old daughter.
“I’m coming!” she screams back with an attitude.
“Watch your tone young lady!” Trigger calls from his spot in the kitchen as he walks up behind me.
“She’s going to be the death of me,” I whine. He leans down and kisses my forehead, chuckling.
He winks, earning a glare from me. “Go easy on her, Red. Remember where she gets it from.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He’s right. My little redheaded beauty is me in miniature form. I thought I had years until I had to worry about boys and makeup and drama. What a surprise it was to me that those things came way earlier than I could imagine. It doesn’t help that I’ve had her dancing since she was able to walk, surrounded by girls her age.
“Bye, daddy,” Cara says sweetly, leaning up to kiss Trigger’s hairy chin.
“Bye, baby. Have a good class.”
Cara turns to me and frowns. “I’m sorry, mama.”
I get so frustrated with her sass, but the second she calls me mama or presses her skinny arms around my waist, I’m a sucker. I squeeze her to my chest and kiss her fiery, curly hair. “It’s okay, Care-bear. I just don’t want to be late again. Clara worked really hard on your solo.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Jilly just called and was crying over some stupid boy, and I couldn’t hang up on her. You know how emotional she gets.”
Trigger’s ears pop up at the mention of his brother’s oldest daughter. “What happened to Jilly?”
“Some boy was making fun of her at gym because some mean girl started a rumor about stuffing her bra. Girl stuff, Dad,” Cara says dismissively, waving off her Dad.
Trigger pulls his phone from his back pocket, pressing it to his ear. “Tiny, you aren’t going to like this,” he says into the phone as he walks away.
“Mama! Jilly isn’t going to trust me if Dad just babbles everything to her dad!”
“Come on, Cara.” I push her lightly out the door. “You know your dad and uncles don’t keep any secrets, especially when it’s about you kids.”
“Ugh! I know! That’s the problem!” she huffs as she slams the door to my car.
“Hey, what’d my car do to you?”
“Nothing. I was just reminded of when Dad told Uncle Bull that I had a crush on Tommy. That. Was. Not. Cool.” I stifle a giggle as Cara crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks out the window as I make the drive to my studio.
I smile at Emery through the window of room one, where she is teaching a small ballet class, and keep going until I reach my office. For the next few hours, I lose myself in all things paperwork regarding the studio until we’re able to head home.
A few hours later, after listening to the twins talk about the new hot girl in class, and Cara complaining about how gross they are over dinner, I’m finally laying in bed next to the love of my life.
“You okay?” Trigger asks as he pulls my leg up onto his hip, settling against me.
I nod. “Are you?”
“I’m perfect, babe.”
Every night, Trigger runs his fingers up and down my arm until I fall asleep. Shortly after he started, I found out that there was no way in hell I could sleep without it. I found that out the hard way when the girls and I took a trip into Phoenix for a dance competition and I didn’t sleep for shit all weekend. Trigger has since been told that he is to accompany me on all trips, which he does with little backlash, especially since his daughter competes in a majority of them. He very rarely misses anything to do with our kids.
“The boys asked me about condoms today,” he says nonchalantly.
I jackknife up in bed and turn to him. “They are only fourteen!”
He chuckles. “At least they’re asking about them.”
