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“My tummy is soooo stuffed. Look how big it is.” Sydney leaps from her chair and puffs out her stomach for our inspection.
“Wow,” I gush. “Three slices. You’re a good eater.”
“I wanna be tall and strong like you.”
Those are two traits I hadn’t previously assigned myself. “That’s very sweet.”
“Oh! And I wanna be a ballerina.” She does a rapid routine of unchoreographed steps that are mostly a blur.
“Goals are important. Practice, exercise, healthy food, and sleep are the recipe for success, cutie pie.” Pretty sure Jake snorts at my pep talk, but I ignore him.
Syd gasps and whirls toward her dad. “Can I have dessert?”
He glances at the clock. “It’s almost time for bed. I thought you were full?”
“There’s a little room right here.” She points to a small spot on her stomach.
“Then you can have a little something.”
Genuine delight resembles a squeal as she races to the cabinet. While she rummages in the contents, I let my gaze drift to the man still seated at the table with me. His posture is relaxed, one arm slung over the back of the neighboring chair. We sit in a peaceful lull that I haven’t felt around him in… well, maybe ever. There’s always been a thread of tension for one reason or another.
“How ‘bout these?” Syd rushes back to us with Gushers in her grip.
“Sure, Boop.” His eyes crinkle in the corners as he watches Syd rip open the package. Then he catches me staring. “Do I have something on my face?”
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re a great dad. I hope you know that.”
He squints. “Because I let her have fruit snacks at eight o’clock?”
“Because she’s your whole world and it shows.” I’m fortunate to have a backstage pass.
Jake drops his gaze to trace a vein in the wood. “Better quit or she’ll invite you to dinner again.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. That idea holds more appeal than it should. I’ve probably overstayed my welcome as it is. Just as I’m about to begin the process of excusing myself, Syd yawns with an exaggerated roar fit for a lion.
“I’m sleepy,” she murmurs.
“A full belly will do that to you.” That’s why I insist on a power walk after lunch.
“You know what that means,” Jake says and rises to his feet.
Sydney peeks at him from under heavy lids. “Can Miss Harper put me to bed?”
“Uhhh,” I flounder on dry land. Pressure seems to hold the entire room hostage. When I look to Jake for guidance, he appears equally shocked. The fear of intruding on quality time jostles my foot. This is far beyond my dance instructor duties, which is evident as I stand on shaky legs. “Shouldn’t your dad do the honors?”
“But I want you to tuck me in. You just gotta read me a story. I can put on my own jammies.” Her voice holds a whiny fuse that has the potential to explode.
“It’s fine,” he assures me.
“Is it really?” Girl code would suggest otherwise.
Rather than respond, Jake lowers to the floor and opens his arms. Syd rushes forward to wrap herself around him. They fold together in a heartfelt exchange that hitches my breath. It’s obvious that affection doesn’t run dry under this roof. The bond between father and daughter is something truly special to witness.
I’m swept into the past, to faded memories of my dad. He died in a car accident when I was Sydney’s age. It’s a tragedy I often block out since I was so young when it happened. My mom rallied despite losing her husband. She raised me with a support system equal to two parents, much like what the man crouched on this kitchen floor is doing for his child.
Jake presses his face into Sydney’s hair. “Love you, Boop.”
“Love you too, Daddy.” She burrows into his trusting hold.
