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“Addie stole my cookie,” he cries.
“Did not,” Addie retorts, folding her arms over her chest and stomping her feet. As she speaks, crumbs of what I’m assuming is Darren’s cookie fly from her mouth. It takes all my power not to snicker. At six, she’s our biggest diva.
“Why did you take Darren’s cookie, Addie? That was his snack.”
“I didn’t,” she protests, flicking her blonde curls. Her words are muffled because it looks like she stuffed the entire thing in there.
“Addie, I’ve told you before that if you want something, all you have to do is ask. You can’t go around stealing other people’s treats.”
“I did,” she whines. “I asked Damien if I could have another cookie, but he said no because I would ruin my dinner.”
With that, Damien appears at the front door, looking down from the porch, smiling but shaking his head.
“You should have listened, little lady. You can’t have everything you want, and when you don’t get something, you can’t steal. That cookie was Darren’s. Now apologize.”
She huffs, leaning into her hip. I sometimes wonder if she’s a teenager trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
“Sorry,” she whispers so low I hardly hear it.
“Like you mean it,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the laughter from erupting. It’s not funny. It’s really not, but sometimes they’re hard to take seriously.
She stands straight, meeting Darren’s watery eyes. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“Good girl. Darren, come on. I’ll get you another cookie.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want it, anyway.”
Oh, for the love of all that is holy.
Turning to face Addie again, he says, “You want to play hopscotch?”
And just like that, the argument ends. All is forgiven, and they run away to play together.
I wish adults could take a leaf from their book.
Damien eyes me as I approach him, tilting his head toward the door, his eyes swirling.
Confusion contorts my face. “Do you need a massage? A knot in your neck?”
Jade eyes roll as he crosses his arms. “You have a visitor.”
Blowing out a long breath, my chest deflates.
I was going to call her. I really was.
There are only a select few allowed inside the house, and Damien’s eyes never swirl so much for anyone else.
“How long has she been here?”
“Only ten minutes. She’s reading the kids a story.”
Of course she is.
I love Nora like a mother, but I’ve been wallowing too much in my self-pity over the weekend to even think of calling her.
But she’s here now, and there’s no time like the present.
“Did she not tell you she was coming?”
