It’s almost just like Laura all over again, I think with a chuckle as we finally reach the doorway. I put Darby down and turn her to face me.
“I want you to go say hi to the nice lady. She’s being nice and making us supper. Go tell her thank you,” I say, running a hand over the side of her face.
Darby nods and turns around, running the few steps toward Joce. She reaches up and pulls on her dress, a big smile on her face.
“Thank you!” she shouts gleefully when Jocelyn looks down at her.
I laugh and lean a hand on the door frame, watching them carefully. Jocelyn bites her lip so damn hard, I’m worried she’s going to draw blood and scare Darbs.
“Watch it,” I warn her in a low tone.
She quickly wipes the tears from her eyes and crouches down in front of our daughter, trying her best to smile.
“You’re welcome,” she whispers.
Darby puts her arms around Joce’s shoulders and gives her a quick hug, before she runs over to the table and pulls herself up onto one of the chairs.
She doesn’t get it, I think with a relieved sigh.
“Guess we’ll hold onto to our little secret just a bit longer,” I say to Jocelyn evenly as I walk over to the table and take the seat next to Darby.
Jocelyn looks at the little girl and wrings her hands nervously before she turns her back to us again. I won’t tell Darby just yet. There’s no point in ruining her supper by telling her that the nice lady in the kitchen cooking is really nothing more than a disappointment for both of us.
I decided that while Jocelyn is keeping herself busy making dinner, that I’d let Darby color at the table. I usually don’t allow that, but it’ll keep her occupied and not ask her Momma any questions.
It’s just in her nature to be so damn curious. Always wants to know who, what, and why, never stopping her barrage of questions until she gets an answer she’s satisfied with.
Vaughn asked too many fucking questions too, I think with a slight shudder. I get that Darby will inherit some of their traits, but I can hope that she’ll be just like me when she gets older. The way I choose to live my life with my family makes perfect sense to me—even if no one else would understand it.
I glance over at her happily coloring next to me and run a hand back over her hair. Yeah; I can’t help but think that even though the rest of them were fucking failures, this one will make me proud.
“Oh man!” she cries out, causing Joce to turn around quickly. Her eyes immediately fall on me instead of Darby and I roll my eyes at her. Obviously, she still thinks the worst of me.
“What’s wrong baby?” I ask her.
“I broke my crayon,” she replies with a pout, holding up her blue crayon for me to see it. The top partially snapped off because of how hard she was rubbing it against the paper.
“Well,” I say, getting up from the table and walking over to the junk drawer next to the sink. “That’s why you need to be more patient when you’re coloring. We talked about patience before, remember?”
I fish around in the drawer until I find the box of crayons I’m looking for. Darby has a habit of snapping her crayons when she colors, so I have a box that I keep in here for moments like this. I pull out the blue crayon then toss the box back into the drawer, closing it with my hip, and running a knuckle down Joce’s back before I head back to the table.
I sit down and hold the crayon out to Darby who’s now watching Jocelyn with suspicion growing in her big brown eyes, and I chuckle.
“Darbs? Would you like your crayon?” I ask her with a grin.
“Yes, please,” she says quietly, narrowing her eyes. She reaches for the crayon then puckers her lips for me and I give her a gentle kiss on the lips before she goes back to coloring again.
So far I’ve taught her that when Daddy does something nice for her, then Daddy gets a thank you kiss.
Baby steps.
The loud sigh that comes from Jocelyn tells me that she was watching us. It doesn’t matter to me; she went through this same fucking training so she’ll know when it’s time to worry. Not that I think it’s something to worry about—to me it’s just a different way of showing love, and I prefer it.
And no matter how much huffing and puffing she’s doing, I know damn well that she does too.
I rest my chin in my hand and watch Darby color in her blue sky. She’s very good at not running over any lines when she’s coloring and I can tell that’s the perfectionist in me rubbing off on her already.
“Another hour and dinner will be ready,” Jocelyn announces in a subdued tone.