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We each had a cup on a saucer decorated in gentle pinks, sky blues, and soft yellows.
I turned back to the bunny who had his own cup and a small bow tie around its neck. “What’s his name?”
“Bunny B.” Carmen lowered into her seat and grabbed the tea pot. “He is a bastard of Paris.”
I blinked. “A what?”
Zuri chuckled. “Am-bass-a-dor, baby.”
Carmen nodded like she’d said just that. “Yes, Mommy.”
I did a dramatic bow to Bunny B. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Carmen giggled.
Next, with the seriousness of a seasoned hostess, Carmen pretended to pour tea into our cups. Her tiny fingers grasped the teapot with careful precision.
Her brow furrowed as she warned, “Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Okay.” I slowly lifted my cup up and blew on the imaginary tea. “Thank you, Carmen. This looks like very special tea.”
“It is.” She widened her eyes. “Bunny B brought it over from Paris.”
“Oh my.” I grinned. “Then, I’m super lucky to be here.”
“It’s the best tea in the whole world!” Carmen nodded and then gazed at Zuri. “Mommy, you’re not drinking your tea?”
“Oh.” Zuri blinked. An odd expression was on her face, but I couldn’t place it. All I knew was that she had been watching us, and surely taking mental notes. “I am letting my tea cool off.”
“Okay, Mommy.” From a small basket beside her, Carmen then produced an assortment of tiny, plastic cakes. Each was brightly colored, resembling different flavors. She handed them out, explaining what each one was. “This is a strawberry cake for you, Daddy, and a chocolate one for Mommy because that’s her favorite.”
I accepted the cake with a smile and pretended to take a bite. “Delicious! You’re an excellent baker, Carmen.”
“Oh no. I didn’t make them, Daddy.” Carmen shook her head. “Bunny B did them.”
“Wow. An ambassador. A tea connoisseur. And. . .an excellent baker.”
Carmen stared at me and tilted her head. “What’s a conna-whore, daddy?”
I laughed at her innocent mispronunciation. “Oh, sweetie, it’s not conna whore. It’s con-noi-sseur.”
Carmen sipped her tea.
“It’s a fancy word that means someone who knows a lot about something special.” I placed my cake next to my tea. “Like someone who knows all about different types of tea or cakes. They can tell which ones are really good.”
Carmen’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh! Like when I know all my stuffed animals and which ones are best for cuddles?”
“Exactly like that.” I pointed to her. “You’re a stuffed animal connoisseur because you know all about the best ones.”
“I’m a stuffed animal conna-whore!” She beamed. “And Bunny B is a cake one!”
“Uh. . .well.”
Zuri laughed, not helping me out at all. At least her laughter was like music, a sweet melody that filled the room and warmed my heart.
“And Daddy, you’re a hug conna-whore because you give the best hugs!”
“Oh.” I might have blushed and melted right there in front of both of them. “I. . .am?”
She bobbed her head.
Get yourself together!
One would have thought that I had not just murdered seven men in a bar earlier.
Could they see right through me? See the crumbling of my manhood, softening into cotton candy and fucking rainbows.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you. . .baby girl.”
Carmen nodded and sipped her imaginary tea.
Snickering, Zuri picked up her cup.
I frowned at her.
You think it’s funny for our daughter to just dismantle all of my manliness?
“Mmmm.” Zuri winked at the bunny across from her. “Bunny B, you never disappoint.”
Ignoring how crazy I might have looked, I returned to eating my plastic cake and enjoying my tea.
Carmen’s gaze shifted from my face to my arm. “Daddy, your muscles, are they hard?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Smiling, I took off my jacket, lay it next to me, and rolled up my sleeve.
Carmen put her cup down, came over, reached out her tiny hand, and gently poked my bicep. “It’s hard!”
I winked.
Then, she reached up and tugged gently at my long hair. “Your hair looks like a girl’s.”
“Really?” I pretended to ponder her comment. “Do you think I should cut it?”
“No!” Carmen widened her eyes. “Don’t cut it, Daddy!”
I looked at Zuri. “And your vote?”
She smirked. “I like it. It’s part of who you are.”
Returning back to her seat, Carmen placed her cup down, picked her tea pot up, and poured more for herself. “Did you have tea on the moon, Daddy?”
I playfully munched and did a dramatic swallow. “Yes, we did, Carmen.”
Carmen parted her lips in shock.
Zuri smirked. “Oh, I have to hear this.”
I ignored her. “There’s a special kind of tea that sparkles like the stars.”
Carmen widened her eyes.
“And,” I raised my finger. “It’s made from moonbeams and tastes like your favorite fruit.”
“Strawberries!”
“Yep.” I shrugged.
“Can we have moonbeam tea next party?”
“Absolutely.” I chuckled. “I’ll make sure to bring some back from my next space mission.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, Carmen’s expression shifted from excitement to a hint of sadness. “But I don’t want you to go back to space, Daddy.”
