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Over the next thirty minutes, Lyric helps me mix the batter and oil the pan. She giggles with me, getting the mix all over her face and fingers. Our pancakes morph into weirdly shaped blobs rather than round.
“Taste good?” I ask when we sit together at the island on stools with plates in front of us.
“The bestest,” she says, shoving a big piece of pancake into her mouth, sticky syrup hanging from her chin and sticking to her fingers.
“Well, looks like you made a big breakfast,” River says, eyeing Lyric affectionately. A smile grows across her lips when she kisses Lyric’s head as she walks by.
“Me and Daddy made yummy pancakes!” She giggles around another bite, humming with satisfaction.
Whenever she says Daddy to me, I swear joyous butterflies burst in my damn soul. A smile creeps across my lips when Lyric side-eyes me with a giddy giggle, tearing into another misshapen pancake.
“There’s plenty more,” I softly say, nodding toward the plate on the stove filled to the brim with pancakes.
River’s brows rise as she pulls a plate and coffee cup from the cupboard. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she says, plopping a few on her plate and pouring some syrup.
I shrug. “I learned to do a lot of things myself as a kid. My father went through a lot of nannies and eventually left me to my own devices at eight. Well, until Gloria came into the picture with Kieran.” I swallow hard, finding relief flooding me as all the pent-up childhood memories flood out my mouth unbidden.
“Ly, I think it’s about time for you to wash your hands and get dressed for school,” River says, scoping up Lyric’s empty plate.
“I’m sick,” Lyric says, frowning when her mom takes her plate away and sets it in the sink.
River snorts. “I don’t think so, missy. Up. Dressed. School. We have ten minutes.” She raises a brow when Lyric stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest and pouts with a little huff of annoyance.
“But I want to stay with Daddy,” she grumbles, stomping her feet.
“Better get to it, Little One. Daddy will be around later, okay?” I say, ruffling her ratty dark locks, earning a huff.
“It’s a never-ending cycle,” River sighs, watching Lyric’s retreating back as she scurries down the hall and slams her bedroom door shut with a heavy thud.
“Does she fight it every day?” I grunt, grabbing my plate. Stiffly, I shuffle to the sink and clean our plates off.
“Since the day she started preschool. I’ve asked her why she dislikes going, but she says she’s bored and the youngest one there. I just hope it’s nothing like bullying or anything else. She seems happy in the classroom. At least that’s what her teacher says. I don’t know.” She shakes her head, heaving a frustrated sigh. “So, every day, we have this argument,” she hums softly, looking toward the hallways as little steps come our way.
“Ready!” Lyric announces through a big grin, marching into the living room ten minutes later, wearing a little frilly blue dress, leggings, and flat black shoes with bows on them. Her once ratty hair is brushed out, and her face is clean of the evidence of our sticky breakfast.
I can’t help but smile at her when she proudly beams up at me.
“You look beautiful,” I say with pride.
“Thanks, Daddy!” she says, throwing her arms around my waist. “Are you coming to take me to school today?” she asks, batting those damn eyelashes again, wrapping me further around her damn finger. My eyes flick to River, and she nods without reluctance. “Let’s get you to school,” I whisper, bending and kissing her cheek, reveling in her tightening hug and happy squeal of delight.
I swallow hard when she lets go and takes off, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Without waiting for us, she marches out the front door toward River’s SUV in the driveway.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I say, clearing my throat as we step out into the warm morning sunlight beaming down on us. Momentarily, I lift my face toward the sun, soaking in the day’s warmth and basking in its refreshing glory. Today is a new damn day, and I am a new man.
After locking her front door, River turns to me, shrugging. “I told you I won’t keep her away from you. You’re her father as much as the other three are.” Her brows furrow when she digs into her pocket and brings her phone out. Tapping a few times, she opens something, and her body freezes. A slight tremble takes over her hands as she scrolls up on her phone and leans in with a horrified look crossing her face. A ghostly white complexion drains the color from her face, and her eyes widen almost in fear as her eyes rapidly move across the screen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask sharply, stepping closer and putting a hand on her stiff shoulder. “River?” Gently, I squeeze, coaxing her out of whatever trance she had been put in.
Her eyes widen when she takes me in, realizing she’s been stuck on the porch for a solid minute. With a head shake, she brushes off my touch with a tense smile.
“N-nothing,” she stammers, unsteadily taking off toward the vehicle. “I’m fine.”
I furrow my brows when she shakily gets into the driver’s seat, heaving a few breaths until I follow and get into the car. Yeah, fucking right. It’s not nothing. Something spooked her, and I’m determined to find the cause. Whether she likes it or not.
As we drive toward the school, worry eats away at me. River doesn’t say a word about what happened. She talks back to Lyric, who excitedly chatters away about anything and everything she can think of, avoiding my quizzical gaze. After about ten minutes, we arrive at Lyric’s school and drop her off at the drop-off line. As Lyric exits the car, she grins at me through the window, waving as her teacher takes her hand. I watch with rapt attention when she stands in line by the school door, chatting with a little boy.
“Who is that?” I mumble, pointing to the little boy, throwing his arm around Lyric’s shoulders with a grin. He lights up at the sight of her.
