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"Daddy said tomorrow," she murmured. Emma let out a dramatic sigh, turning back toward the table and crossing her arms over her chest. It still surprised me she was on my side with everything.
"You can have juice," I amended, and Emma slid her eyes to me.
"What kinda juice?" she asked, and I huffed out a laugh as I scrubbed my hand over my jaw.
"We have orange and apple." Her eyes narrowed as she turned toward Reagan.
"Peach."
"We don't have peach, Em," I said gently, but she ignored me. I glanced at Reagan, finding her grinning.
"It's in the back of the fridge," she muttered.
"What?"
"I—I hid it at the back of the fridge. Behind the weird amount of kiwis you have." My mouth opened, then closed before I let out a choked laugh.
"I like kiwis," I said. "Sue me."
"It's weird."
"Liking kiwis is weird?" I lifted my brows, and she shrugged.
"Who needs an entire bowl of them?" she countered, and I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. She glanced at Emma before sliding her eyes back to me. "That's where she gets it."
"Gets what?" I blinked, confused. "She hates kiwis."
"No," she laughed, shaking her head. "Her attitude. I don't know how I didn't see it sooner." My brows shot into my hairline.
"Attitude—" I threw my head back and laughed. "Have you met yourself, angel? You're the one with the attitude."
"Yeah, but she doesn't get it from me."
"She's gotten sassier since you moved in," I countered, and she shook her head.
"Nope, she's a hundred percent you," she said decisively. "You're the sassy one."
"I'm not sassy, brat." Her eyes twinkled as she smiled broadly at me. I could tell she was holding back her laugh, but I couldn't hold mine back. I laughed again, feeling lighter than I had all day.
A hand snaked in front of me and I jerked back, my head snapping up. "Sorry," the server said, smiling between us. "Can I just say—" She met Reagan's gaze before turning her attention back to me. "I hope my husband and I are as happy and in love as you are when our baby is her age." She tilted her head to Emma. "I just had him a few months ago, and—oh, it doesn't matter. But you give me hope things will work out."
"They will," Reagan said sincerely. I stared at her, finding her eyes bright as she stared up at our server, a genuine and kind smile on her pretty face. "How old's your baby?"
"He's only seven months," the server said proudly, and Reagan smiled broader. "Yours?" She looked down at Emma.
"Just turned four about a week ago," I choked out. The server's smile never fell.
"Well, happy birthday," she said to Emma. Reagan gently nudged her arm.
"What do you say?" she whispered as she leaned over.
"Thank you!" Emma gave her a giant smile, one that made her eyes squeeze shut and nose crinkle. It made my chest tighten. Reagan smoothed her hand over Emma's hair as she straightened in her chair.
The server made her way to the back and I let out a long breath as I stared at Reagan. She was fully engrossed in a conversation with Emma, both of them giggling and wiggling their fingers at each other.
Meredith would've never—
I forced myself to stop thinking. I couldn't compare them. They were sisters but couldn't be more different.
