Flour flew through the air as the two girls kneaded and rolled the dough. Soon both of their outfits were covered in white. I loved that Billie wasn’t afraid to get messy—especially when we fucked.
Once the dough was ready, it was time to start assembling the pizzas. Billie cooked the sausage with some onions in a pan and put that aside. She opened up all of the other packages and placed the toppings in bowls. This kitchen was gonna be a bitch to clean up, but it was well worth it to see the continuous smile on my daughter’s face.
I watched how patient Billie was as they made the pizzas together. For someone who claimed to have little experience with children, Billie was a pro.
By the time the pizzas were in the oven, as expected, the kitchen was a total mess: drippings of pineapple juice, scattered shredded cheese, bacon grease. But it was a beautiful mess. It was life—an example of the life that had been breathed into this place since Billie joined us.
After dinner, Billie surprised Saylor with a princess cupcake she’d picked up from the supermarket bakery. My daughter clearly enjoyed it, because by the time she was finished, she had frosting in her hair and somehow in her eyes.
Billie took Saylor to the bathroom to wash up as I got started cleaning the kitchen so it no longer looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy had exploded up in here. I stopped what I was doing from time to time to listen to the sounds of laughter coming from down the hall.
I want this. Every night. But I knew it would be stupid to assume Billie would want the full-time responsibility that came along with it. Time would tell, and I just had to be patient.
Before bed, Saylor asked Billie for a bedtime story. “No book!” She squealed.
Billie looked over at me for guidance.
“That means she wants you to make up something off the top of your head,” I told her. “She likes to challenge me all the time.”
She tickled Saylor. “You’re so silly. You’re not gonna make this easy, huh?”
Saylor giggled.
Billie sat at the edge of the bed and took a moment to think as Saylor settled under the covers.
“Okay, this story is called The Tattooed Witch,” she said.
My daughter curled into her as I stood at the doorway, listening in.
“Once upon a time, there was a tattooed witch. She lived in New York and owned her own tattoo shop where she drew tattoos on people all day long.” She paused. “One day, a prince walked in and asked her for a tattoo. But the tattooed witch was having a very bad day, so she sent him away.”
“This story sounds familiar,” I said.
“It might be a bit autobiographical.” Billie winked.
“What happened to put the witch in a bad mood?” I teased.
“She had an encounter with the evil Sir Tinder that left her in a bad way.”
“Ah. Okay. Go ahead with the story.” I laughed.
She turned to Saylor and continued, “The witch felt very bad about being rude. The next time she saw the prince, she cast a spell on him in the hopes that she could have a second chance.”
Saylor looked up at her. “Magic?”
“Yup. A magical spell.”
“What happened?” Saylor asked.
“It worked! The prince kept coming back. And he even took her on a date once to the magical island of IKEA.”
I chuckled.
Saylor grinned. “What else happened?”
“The witch’s cold heart started to melt. After a while, the tattooed witch didn’t feel like a witch anymore. She felt like a princess—not because she was an actual princess, but because the prince made her feel like one. The witch cast the spell on the prince, but in the end, she was the one who’d been transformed.” Billie looked over at me and smiled. “The end.”
Saylor’s eyes widened. “Did they live happily ever after?”
She hesitated. “I like to think so.”
Good answer. I sure as fuck hoped the witch and the prince ended up together, and had lots of amazing sex along the way.
After we put Saylor to bed, Billie looked deep in thought as she sat next to me in the living room.
“Saylor is really happy when you’re around,” I said, interrupting whatever she’d been ruminating about.
“Yeah, it surprises me how much I love being around her, too.”
I traced the tattoos on her arm and decided to open up. “Probably the only thing I’ve worried about when it comes to you and me is whether you would want this life for the long haul. I never want to pressure you to think about it, but I also feel like we’re at the point where I’d like to know if you could possibly see a future with…both of us.”
She didn’t immediately say anything. I felt like I might come out of my skin as I waited for her to speak.