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10
Dane
The penin my hand scratches against the notepad as I jot down the last few items on my list at the kitchen island. Ophelia plays happily with a singing stuffed animal in the spare bedroom. I smile at the sounds of her childish enthusiasm. I know there’s learning involved, but how kids don’t get bored of the same old songs the way adults do is beyond me. She’s had the stuffed dog on repeat for over an hour now. I never thought I’d remain entertained to sit silently and listen to girlish chatter, but here I am. Happy as a goddamned clam.
My ticker tracks the seconds until Caiti arrives, quickening my pulse. The sound of the oven alarm sets me in motion. The early dinner I prepared is ready, and she’s yet to appear. The enchilada bake smells like a heavenly marriage of chili powder, cumin, and garlic and entices a gurgle from my stomach.
“Is dat for me?” Ophelia wanders into the kitchen. The inquisitive cock of her eyebrow causes me to laugh.
“Are you hungry?”
She opens her mouth and points at the void. “Please?”
“Soon, honey. Why don’t you wash your hands before we eat.”
“You help me?” She rubs her hands together to finish the sentence.
“Of course.” I turn off the oven and lead her to the lone bathroom.
Her little head of hair spans mere inches above the top of the sink. I mentally add a footstool to my list.
“Up we go.” I hook one arm around her middle and hoist her above the basin. Her pleasing squeals sing a melody that soothes my soul. I turn on the tap with my other hand and squirt a bit of soap onto her awaiting palms. “Scrub them together.”
Her practiced movements reveal some combination of an involved mother and a smart kid.
“You’re good at this,” I praise, and it strikes me then this isn’t one of my friends' kids who I’m babysitting temporarily. This one’s mine, and something as simple as handwashing brings me a massive sense of pride.
“Anybody home?” Caiti’s voice resonates through the living space.
“Be out one sec,” I call out, then twist off the water. “All done?”
Ophelia holds her hands in front of her and flips her palms up and down. “All clean! Time to eat?”
“Go get your mama.” A sturdy hand between her shoulder blades propels her in the right direction.
“Momma, I play swings today!”
“You did?”
With eyes averted, I pass by the reunited duo and into the kitchen to finish dinner prep.
“Uncul Wet push me, and Tommy push me, and even Daddy push me!”
My neck cricks with a rapid turn, and I find Caiti’s gaze awaiting mine. Unfamiliar emotion bubbles within the cavern of my chest. Never have I been stunned speechless, but hearing her call me Daddy for the first time constitutes a first.
At this moment, it doesn’t matter if I missed her babbling Dadda when she first learned to talk. Hearing her call me Daddy at two-and-a-half eclipses the lost moments of the past.
Caiti recovers first. “I’m so glad you had fun.”
“And nest time, you come too, Momma.”
“I will.” Caiti taps the end of Ophelia’s nose, and the little girl scrunches her face with a giggle. “Are you ready to eat?”
Ophelia sprints around her mom’s legs in the opposite direction of the kitchen.
“I sit wight here nest to Daddy, and you sit wight here nest to me.” The little girl wiggles her way onto the brand new dining room chair.
“Where did that table come from?” Caiti’s suspicious tone glances off the mental guard I spent all afternoon assembling.
“I bought it.”
“Why?” Her perplexity precedes a frown.
“The stools are too tall and not enough of ’em.” I carry the casserole dish to the table. “Sit. Eat. I’m sure the champagne sloshing around could use some substance.”
Her shoulders remain stiff as she crosses to my new dining set and takes a rigid seat. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
I dish up the girls’ plates before turning to my own. “It’s no trouble.”
“You’re taking to this better than I expected you to.”
“Am I?” I busy myself with filling glasses from a pitcher of ice water I set out earlier.
“Are you intentionally obtuse? Any other guy would lose his mind if a woman showed up with his child. You’re being unnaturally cool about it all.”
Condensation drips down the glass I place before her. “When have I given the impression I’m like any other guy?”
Her pink tongue sneaks out to wet her bottom lip. As if realizing the motion, she reaches for her glass. Our fingers softly touch. If I weren’t already looking at her, I might have missed the sparks in her dark eyes. I definitely don’t miss the hefty gulp or the way her other hand clutches at the chain around her neck.
We eat in a stilted silence, occasionally punctuated by Ophelia’s remarks about the park or her food or Tommy. She’s absolutely enamored with admiration for her new cousin. When remnants of chopped enchilada litter the table, floor, and her hair, the end of dinner is declared.
“I’ll clean this up,” Caiti announces on a brisk rise from her chair.
“Leave it.” With Duke covering the bar this evening, I could use a mindless task.
“Momma, I show you someting.” Our girl decides to move the evening full steam ahead.
My attention remains riveted on Caiti. If the quirk of her brow is any indication, she’s instantly wary. Her lack of equilibrium may keep her pliable to my demands. I’m an actionable guy. She’s about to find that out for herself.
The two join hands, and Ophelia leads her through the living space to one of the bedrooms. She tosses the ajar door to the spare room wide. “Dis is my room!”
A chuckle from me transforms into a cough at her bold declaration of ownership. Caiti’s heavily dipped brows display the dispute surely on the tip of her tongue.
“It is?” she asks in a lilting tone to hide from the young innocence that Mommy and Daddy are about to throw down.
“Come see.” Ophelia confiscates Caiti’s options and tugs her deeper into the newly decorated room.
After a few minutes of slowly circling the space, Caiti announces, “It’s beautiful, baby. Why don’t you play in here with your new toys so Daddy and I can talk.”
The door closing behind Caiti’s exit sounds as a warning.
“Why would you do that?”
“Do what exactly?”
