Page 18 of New Year's Day
“Sit.”
I do as she says because this little girl owns my heart like her mother does and settle in beside her, slipping my arm around her slender shoulders and scooping her closer to me. She tilts her head back so our eyes meet, her lips parting and I have a feeling what her request is going to be.
“Tell me the story about you and Mama.”
My gaze goes to the piece hanging on the wall, smiling as the memories wash over me, one after another. Willow has already heard this story countless times and she’s barely three. But she can’t get enough of it.
“Where shall I start?” I ask.
“When Mama didn’t like you.” Willow wrinkles her nose then bursts out laughing. “It’s funny.”
“That would make you laugh.” I tickle her and she giggles uncontrollably, so loud that Wren calls from our bedroom.
“What’s going on back there?”
We both go silent, sharing a secret look and I press my finger to Willow’s lips.
“Nothing. I was just telling her a story,” I respond.
“Uh huh.” The doubt in my wife’s voice is obvious and I smile.
So does Willow.
“We need to be quiet,” I whisper.
“Don’t tickle me,” Willow says, sounding completely logical.
My girl is smart. Much like her mama.
Clearing my throat, I lean against the headboard and stare at the art piece, telling the story about watching for Wren every day before school started. How I didn’t know her but I wanted to, but she never wanted to give me the time of day. How we were forced to work together on a school project and we slowly got to know each other.
And swiftly fell in love.
“What about the kisses?” Willow stares at the piece with me.
“What about them?”
“You owe her two million.” She remembers that. She remembers pretty much every detail of our story. “How many do you give her?”
“A lot.”
“How many?”
“We’re probably only a quarter of the way in,” I say, and my poor little daughter frowns, confusion etched in her delicate features. “Let’s just say Daddy still owes Mama a lot of kisses.”
The frown disappears, just like that. “I want kisses.”
I give her one on her forehead. Her nose. Each cheek. “All the kisses you could ever want, you deserve.”
“I wanna husband who gives me kisses too.” Her gaze turns dreamy as she stares at the art piece once more.
Over my dead body, is what I want to say, thinking of my own self not too long ago, and how completely over the top I was. How badly I wanted Wren and went after her with a dogged determination that still surprises me. I’ve never chased after something like I chased after Wren.
And look at me now. I got her. I love her. I love our little and I love our son. Life is pretty great.
“Someday,” I tell Willow, dropping another kiss on top of her head. “But for now, save your kisses for your mama and daddy. And your brother.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head back to look at me, and for a moment I think she looks older. Wiser than she should. “But someday I’m going to kiss someone else. Like Mama kisses you.”