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I pushed her hair off her face and gave it a little tug. “It’s fine, Hope. I didn’t answer because I was driving and had the ringer off. I didn’t want to call back in case you were driving. We just got here. It’s all good.”
She blew out a breath.
“Come on. This is no way to start the evening. Relax,” I ordered.
She grinned and saluted me.
I tilted my chin down in warning, but she laughed at me.
“No bar. No basement. No baby monitors…”
“I’ll gag you if you’re not careful.”
Her finely etched brows quirked, and she withdrew into her spicy imagination.
“Hope!” I laughed. “Open the door.”
“Right!” She flushed. “It’s just that it’s been a helluva day. I spoke to Maeve, my dad. I wish I could talk to my mom about this, but she just wants us to get married.” The blood drained from her face, and she waved her hands as if to erase her words. “Not that I’m asking!” Her brow furrowed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a woman proposing, but I’m not.” She glanced up at me and her mouth twisted to the side, and then her eyes bugged out. “Not that I wouldn’t, I mean, you’re perfect! Perfect for me, I mean. But…” She drifted off. “What are we talking about?”
I rolled my wrist for her to go on. “How perfect I am.”
She laughed and smacked my arm then turned to the door. “I bought us matching shoes.”
“You bought us matching shoes.” Matching shoes?
“Yes. Matching shoes. Your shoes are much too serious.”
“Myshoesare serious?” How can shoes be serious? I wore all kinds of shoes. Casual shoes. “What kind of shoes did you buy me?”
She laughed. “Don’t panic. Yours are black and unfriendly. Sia’s are pink. Brayleigh’s are light blue. Mine,” she paused, “are floral.”
“I’m friendly,” I protested, fighting the urge to grin at the mental picture of the four of us in matching shoes. Matching shoes? I shook my head at the thought.
“Really?” she challenged.
I bent low and dropped my mouth to hers. “I’m friendly with you, aren’t I?”
“Mm,” she hummed against my lips. “You’re very friendly with me. Will you be more friendly with me later?”
“Depends if you’re a good girl.”
“I a good girl!” Brayleigh crowed at my feet. I looked down to see her swathed head to toe in a snowsuit. “You be mine friend? You be mine Poppy?”
Hope laughed at my wince. “That’ll teach you to flirt in front of Brayleigh.”
I stared down at Hope’s tiny doppelganger. “Poppy?”
Her little finger pointed at me. “Them poppy seeds on your face.”
“Poppy,” I murmured. “I’ll always be your Poppy, Brayleigh.”
Hope pushed the door open. “Good because once she names you, you’re stuck with it. Did I tell you I had a crazy day?”
I hauled Sia inside with all her paraphernalia only to be bombarded by the cuteness that was Brayleigh. Hunkering down, she spoke to Sia.
“You gonna sleeps at my house this night. I a big girl and I sleep in a big girl bed. You just a baby and you gonna sleep in mine baby bed.”
The next hour passed in a frenzy of macaroni, an after-dinner dancercise party that I recorded for posterity, bedtime stories, and finally, putting two tired little girls to bed.
