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“Some more than others.” Nick sat down at the kitchen table. “C’mere, Rosie girl.”
Mel deftly flipped a pancake before throwing him a look. “I didn’t name her after a riveter, Nicky. You’ll have to start calling her Rose when she stops being adorable.”
“That’ll never happen.” Nick lifted Rosie into her seat and started fiddling with straps. “Besides, we have a song!”
“Yeah!” Rosie declared. “Sing the Rosie song!”
“Are you gonna sing your part?” Rosie nodded vigorously, and Nick started singing. “I’m gonna eat some pancakes with Rosie, how many will we eat, who knowsie? We’ll fill up from our heads to our toesies, ’cause we need breakfast to help us growsie!” Rosie and Nick took a wide-eyed deep breath and sang in unison: “No matter what, it’s plain to see …
“I love Uncle Nick, and Uncle Nick loves me!”
Rosie loved the Rosie song because Nick always made up new words on the spot, and because her part, and the part they sang together, never changed. At nearly three years old, Rosie still announced her special last line more than she sang it, but Nick loved hearing the end of the Rosie song more than anything else in the world.
Gavin came in from the hallway as Nick and Rosie clapped for each other, his eyes on the watch he was fastening on his wrist. “You were right, hon,” he said to Mel. “It was in the laundry basket.”
“Of course I was right.” Mel effortlessly kissed her husband on her way to the table with a plate full of pancakes. “Okay, Nicky, tell me everything.”
Nick looked at her. “What?”
“Gavin said you needed my help with Hayley,” Mel said.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Really?” he asked Gavin.
Gavin dropped into the chair across from him while Mel took a seat between her husband and her daughter. “You told me you wanted to know what she thought.”
“Sure, but tell her Ineedher, and she’ll start getting cocky.”
Mel said, “You know you’re only an honorary uncle, right?” She apportioned the pancakes among their plates. “Keep talking like that and you’ll just be the guy who used to stay on our couch.”
“You know you can’t get rid of me.” Nick grabbed his knife and fork and got to work. “But I do need you to tell me how to fix things.”
Mel sighed. “What did you do to that nice girl?”
He was surprised how much the question hurt; he hated that he’d done anything to Hayley. “Why do you assume it’s my fault?”
Mel merely raised an eyebrow. Gavin and Nick were both very familiar with that look—it was Mel’s infallible way of calling bullshit.
“Okay.” Nick surrendered. “I may have been a bit short with her last week.” He took a bite of pancake. “She pretty much told me I was miserable, and dancing was the solution to all my problems.”
“Great.” Mel cut up a pancake for Rosie. “What did you do?”
Nick hesitated. “You need to understand that she started it.”
“Like that matters.”
“They both looked pretty rankled to me,” Gavin offered.
“Rankled?”Nick said. “What does that even mean?”
“Irritated,” Mel explained. “Like you’re rankling me now.”
“Being an English teacher doesn’t mean you can trot out words nobody uses anymore,” Nick told him. “You don’t see me dropping theorems all over the place, do you?”
“No,” Gavin pointed out calmly, “because unlike a robust vocabulary, they wouldn’t be of use to anybody.”
“You do this in front of the kid so I can’t swear at you.”
“Nicky.” Mel got them back on track. “If you really thought this was her fault, you wouldn’t be talking to me about it.”
