“Brat.” I hook my elbow around her neck and pull her in for a noogie.
“I’m too old for this,” she squeals, but leans into me instead of pulling away. “She’s upstairs cleaning out her closet or something.”
“Okay.” I look down at her, sobering some. “And how’s it been with you two since—”
“Since I was scarred for life seeing you in bed with my mother?” Wicked delight dances in her dark eyes.
“You didn’t see nothing. Don’t even try it.” I grimace. “For real, though. How’s it been?”
She shrugs, leaning deeper in to me. “It’s been okay. We hung out yesterday when it snowed and we talked. It was cool.”
It will take time to repair what broke between them. Hell, it’ll take time to repair what broke in us all.
I kiss the top of her head and release her. “I’m gonna go catch your mom up on the Charlotte trip.”
“Oh, is that what you call it, Daddy?” She air-quotes and quips, “‘Catching her up?’”
I huff out an exasperated laugh. “You too grown for your own good.”
“I know,” she says, proud.
I climb the stairs, forcing myself to go slowly, with my daughter’s eyes burning a hole into my back. As soon as I hit the landing, Yasmen’s voice reaches me, raised and off-key, singing Hendrix’s Tony! Toni! Toné! anthem “Feels Good.” I walk into the bedroom, but the a cappella singing is coming from the closet. I lean against the doorjamb for a few seconds watching her back turned to me as she pulls items from the hangers and tosses them into a pile on the floor. She’s wearing black yoga pants and a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt she got the first time we took the kids to Disney World.
And earbuds.
Which explains the concert for one she’s got going on, accompanied by rolling hips and…random…a crip walk. I creep up on her, grabbing her from behind by the waist.
“Oh, my God!” she yelps, arms flying and eyes wide. When she faces me, her face softens and she pulls the earbuds out and places them on a closet shelf.
“Hi.” Reaching up she cradles my face and kisses me hard, deeply. Though it’s only been days, this feels like a reunion. It’s not just this kiss. Lately, I always feel parched. Thirsty like I’ve been without her for ages. Because I have. And it feels fragile, having her again. Itisfragile. Every kiss, every touch, every moment placed in a bell jar. Preserved, protected, but only by a thin sheet of glass. Our conversation backstage confirmed that we’re exclusive, but we still have easy exits. As soon as one of us feels it should end, it can. My arms tighten around her.
What the hell I was thinking when I proposedthat?
“You’re home,” she says, smiling against my lips. “I’m glad.”
“So am I.”
I flop onto the oversized ottoman, bringing her down with me and onto my lap.
She snuggles into me, muttering against my neck, “I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” I shift her higher on my lap so she feels how much.
“Oh.” She pulls back, peering into my face and laughing. “Don’t think we have time to take care of that, kind sir, especially with your daughter downstairs.”
“Don’t remind me,” I groan into the textured curls fanning out around her face. “She’s not gonna let us live it down anytime soon. Walking in on us.”
“Small price to pay,” she says. “For this dick.”
“You’re not making this any easier.” I give her a little shake. “Change the subject, or it’s happening and Deja will straight up blackmail us if she hears. Reach into my coat pocket.”
She grins, wiggles on my lap, reaches into the pocket of the coat I haven’t bothered taking off yet, and pulls out a cheesecloth bag tied with gold thread. When she peers inside, a smile breaks out on her face.
“You brought me a pear.” Judging by the way she beams, it may as well be a diamond bracelet. “Is it from Merry and Ken’s pear tree?”
“It is.” I plant a kiss behind her ear. “I remember you saying they were the best you’d ever had, so I—”
“Thank you.” She leans down and takes my bottom lip between hers, holding my stare. I swallow hard and grip her hips, groaning when she grinds down on me. I want her so much, but Deja downstairs is a serious cockblock.