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“Woof! Woof!” The eager Staffie lets me know she’s waiting.
I bend down to pat her head. Well, I’d like to pat it, but I can’t because she’s wearing a tiara. She’s also wearing a doggy-princess dress and her neck is garlanded with doggy jewelry. Not one to be left out, Luna jumps into my lap in search of a kiss. I oblige.
“Princess Luna, how are you?” I ask.
“Luna isn’t a princess today. She’s a lady-in-waiting,” my niece says.
My gaze shifts to my big brother’s. “I sense a theme for the weekend.”
“Sorry. I had to pick my battles,” he tells me. “I couldn’t talk her out of the princess costume even though it’s only Friday night and movie night isn’t until tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be fun, Daddy! Uncle Beckett is going to be the bodyguard. I’m going to be the princess and Luna is my best friend.”
“I’ve been downgraded to bodyguard? Why can’t I be a princess?” I ask, pretending to be offended.
Naomi giggles. “Princesses need bodyguards. That’s the rule.”
I guess I don’t have to wear Luna’s jewelry or her tiara for our play date. The things I’ll do for this child. Not that I’m complaining much. It’s a small price to pay for my little niece, who believes I can hang the moon.
“A weekend of fun awaits,” I say with a laugh.
“Uh-huh.” She nods, sending her tiara flying. She bends down, picks it up and places it regally on her head. Holt and I watch in amusement. “Tonight, we’re going to have donut high tea. Tomorrow, we’re going to have cupcake high tea, and on Sunday, we’re going to have pancake high tea. We should also have waffles on Sunday. And strawberry-flavored unicorn funfetti cake!”
Naomi is five.
For two years she lived in London while my brother was building his recording label across the pond. She still has traces of her British accent, and high tea remains a staple in her world.
“That’s a lot of dessert,” I say. “What about food?”
“Dessert is food,” she tells me, her little eyebrows furrowing.
“No, it’s not!” Holt says.
“But it is,” Naomi says.
My brother levels me with his blue eyes. “Don’t let her eat too much sugar or else you won’t know what to do with her. Make sure she eats real food. And no sugar for Luna. She’s only allowed doggie treats.”
“No problem,” I say.
“Naomi, while I’m away, you listen to Uncle Beckett,” my brother says.
Huge sparkling blue eyes look up at us, her mass of blonde curls, a little wild, a mischievous grin stretching her lips.
She’s up to no good.
“What did I just say, Noni?” Holt says.
“I’m always a good girl, Daddy. I always listen to Uncle Beckett.” She clasps her little hands in prayer under her chin and bats her eyelashes at her father.
I swear she’s a breath away from growing angel wings.
“I want to hear it, Noni,” Holt says.
“Luna and I will eat real food, Daddy.”
“Good.” My brother turns his attention to me. “Thanks again for doing this.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“I’m just doing my job as her uncle. You need to attend an important last-minute business trip. Your fiancée is in Jersey, Mom and Dad left this morning for Santorini, and coincidentally, Jace is out of town with his kid, and Jagger is on the East Coast with his daughter.”
