Chapter 9 – Phoenix
CHAPTER NINE
Apples and trouble
Phoenix
“Daddyyyyyy!”
I smile as I straighten my tie in the mirror. For being so tiny, my daughter is awfully loud.
“Coming,” I call back, leaving my room in my shirtsleeves, pants, and tie. I’ll put my suit jacket on before I leave for work. “Where are you, Reecie?” I ask, entering her room and finding it empty.
“On the potty!” she bellows, and I chuckle as I cross her pink-and-purple polka-dot rug and find her in the bathroom.
“What’s up, gremlin?”
My beautiful little girl blows out a breath so exasperated, you’d think she’d been asked to solve the national deficit. “I’m trying to poopy, but it won’t come out.” She turns her round blue eyes up to me. “Will you rub my tummy?”
“Of course, baby,” I tell her, kneeling beside the toilet and placing my hand on her belly. Then I rub small, firm circles until her pooping endeavors are successful.
“Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” she tells me as we stand side by side and wash our hands in the dual sinks, Reece on a small stool so she can reach.
I smile at her in the mirror and try not to cry. Her sweetness overwhelms me, and she has no idea how much her simple words do for my heart. As a single father, I’m constantly second-guessing myself on every decision I make.
“And you’re the best gremlin in the world,” I say before blowing a kiss at her. “I’ll make you some oatmeal for breakfast. It has lots of fiber, and that helps soften up everything in your stomach and make it easier to go to the bathroom.”
“Can I have some honey on my oatmeal?” she asks, her nose scrunching a little.
“Sure, baby girl. And I’ll cut you up some strawberries. They have a lot of fiber too.” I scroll through my mind to remember the vegetables Reece’s pediatrician recommended. “What veggie do you want for lunch? Carrots or broccoli?”
“Ummm.” We dry our hands as she contemplates this most important decision. “What about cauliflower? Does it have fiver?”
“Fiber,” I correct. “And yes. Cauliflower is very good for you. I’ll tell Gracie to make you some.”
Gracie is our chef. I can cook, but she does come in to make lunches for Reece and Lorraine and to meal prep for our dinner.
While my daughter gets dressed, I go downstairs to prepare her breakfast. As I’m cutting the strawberries, I yell up the stairs, “Reece! Breakfast!”
I listen for the sound of footsteps, but when I don’t hear her, I place her plate on the table and go upstairs to find out why she’s being so quiet.
That’s never a good sign. That assumption is proven correct when I find my four-year-old in my bedroom, kneeling on the floor beside the nightstand, steadily drawing on the pale wood-plank wall.
“Reece Annette Hale! What are you doing?”
She looks up with giant blue eyes full of innocence, though she’s anything but. “I was drawing something for you.”
My eyes drop to the graffiti, and I let out a sigh, shoving a hand through my hair. Two stick figures, one large and one small, that are apparently supposed to be her and me, decorate the wood. Beneath that, in her childlike scrawl, she’d written: I luv Daddy.
Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to be mad about that? Kneeling beside her, I take the Sharpie from her hand and place the cap back on it, keeping my movements gentle but firm.
“Reece, I love your artwork, but you can’t write on the walls.”
She lets out a harrumph like an old man. “Well, nobody ever told me that.”
Swear to god, I’m trying not to laugh, which is honestly one of the hardest things about parenting—maintaining a stern demeanor in the face of extreme cuteness.
“I’m telling you now. If you want to write or draw something for Daddy, you have lots of paper in your desk in every color of the rainbow.” I gesture toward the wall. “I can’t take that to work with me and put it on my desk, can I?”
Her eyebrows scrunch together in thought. “I guess not.” With blue eyes that match my own, she does that little puppy dog thing, her voice pitching up. “Are you mad at me?”
I sigh and admit, “I’m a little annoyed, but you’re still my favorite person in the whole world, okay?”
Her sweet face manages to look chagrined. “It’s okay to be annoyed, Daddy. I get annoyed with you when you only let me have one scoop of ice cream.”
“That’s fair,” I tell her, letting out a little chuckle before kissing her forehead. “Now go downstairs and eat your breakfast.”
She throws her chubby arms around my neck, and I close my eyes, inhaling her bubblegum scent. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I love you muchly.”
A single hug from my little girl is enough to wash away any annoyance I may have been feeling. At this point, she could spray paint the entire damn house, and I’d be cool with it.
“I love you muchly too, Reecie. Go eat your oatmeal before it gets cold.”
Once she scampers downstairs, I go to the upstairs utility closet and pull out the cleaning spray and a cloth. But when I return to my room, I stare at my child’s drawing and the sweet message beneath.
And I can’t do it. I can’t clean it off.
Exhaling hard, I set down the cleaning supplies and rearrange the furniture a bit, moving the black nightstand over to cover the evidence before also shifting the bed to center things up.
I stand back and look at my handiwork. There’s no visible evidence of my little graffiti artist’s work, but I know it’s there, and I can easily move the nightstand to look at it whenever I want.
By the time I get downstairs, Reece is eating her oatmeal and strawberries at the small table in the breakfast nook. Since I’m now running behind, I toss a frozen breakfast burrito into the microwave.
“Is it Monday?” Reece asks as I pull the steaming burrito from the microwave.
“It is,” I agree, pouring some coffee into a travel mug.
“Yay! It’s our date night,” she cheers. “Can we go to The Steamy Crab?”
It’s one of her favorite restaurants, one of those that serves seafood steamed in a large bag. I walk over to sit in the wooden chair next to my daughter.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I wouldn’t sit there, Daddy,” she says at the same time I feel wetness seeping through my pants. “I spilled my apple juice. And maybe a little honey.”
Grimacing, I stand, dripping sticky honey and juice from my ass. “Thanks for the heads up,” I tell her, but she doesn’t seem to get my sarcasm.
“You’re welcome.”
A lovely voice comes from behind me. “Well, looks like someone had a little accident this morning.” I turn to find Lorraine Moore, Reece’s nanny, standing there with an amused look on her face.
“It appears so,” I grumble.
Lorraine is the picture of efficiency, setting down her embroidered bag and grabbing a dish towel. “Go change your clothes. I’ll tidy up things here.”
I take the towel and hold it across my butt to minimize the syrupy trail as I sprint up the stairs and to my bedroom.
Once I’ve wiped off the gunk and exchanged my soiled black suit for a dark-blue one, I head back down to find the kitchen in perfect condition and Lorraine cleaning Reece’s face with a baby wipe.
“You’re a lifesaver, Lorraine,” I gush, kissing the older woman on the cheek.
She blushes and hands me my coffee. “My pleasure. Now go on to work before you get fired.” I laugh because I’m now the head of marketing at Hale Cosmetics, and the only person that could fire me would be the CEO. Who happens to be my dad.
Lorraine strides into the walk-in pantry to throw away the baby wipe, and I follow, lowering my voice.
“She had a little trouble going to the bathroom this morning, so if you could make sure she drinks a lot of water today? And maybe some high-fiber fruits.” I give her a wry grin.
“She’s also been a little more rambunctious than usual. ”
Lorraine nods crisply. “She just needs to work off some energy. I’m on it.” Then she walks out into the kitchen and claps her hands twice. “Reece, honey, get your water bottle. I thought we’d take a walk down to the farmer’s market and get some fruit.”
That’s Lorraine Moore. Killing all the birds with a single, skillfully thrown stone. I’m giving that woman a raise.
“Thank you so much for giving me a chance,” my sister says. She’s uncharacteristically dressed in a teal business suit as she sits in my executive office on the top floor of Hale Cosmetics.
I scoff. “Of course, Perri. You’ll be great in public relations for our company.”
Perri smiles happily. “Okay. I didn’t want to just assume that I’d get a job here because I’m your sister.”
“You’re getting the job because of your degree and your work ethic.”
“And my perfectly presented Power Point?” she asks, bobbing her blonde eyebrows at me.
Chuckling, I say, “It was very impressive.” And very, very long, though I keep that thought to myself.
My administrative assistant, Charlotte, had texted me ten minutes ago to let me know my next appointment had arrived.
I stand from my chair to signal that the meeting is over, and Perri does the same. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Who’s your next appointment?” she asks quietly as we walk toward the door.
“Jordie McNamara.”
Perri’s eyes light up. “Oh, I just love her. I’m so excited she’ll be playing for Houston. Dad said we’re getting a suite at the new stadium.”
“Yeah, Reece is really excited she gets to see, and I quote, ‘Ladies knocking each other down.’”
My sister snorts. “She is unhinged in the most adorable way.”
When we exit my office, I spot her sitting in the waiting area and freeze. Dear god, did I just make a growling sound on my exhale?
Jordie McNamara is fucking stunning. Even seated, she seems larger than life, like she radiates an unassailable strength.
She’s dressed simply in a fitted aqua button-down and nice linen shorts that show off mile-long legs.
The shirt perfectly matches the crystalline eyes that are currently locked on my blue ones.
Her lashes are almost as long as those tanned legs.
The makeup team is going to have a field day with those eyes.
And a sweet scent that wasn’t here earlier seems to have permeated the space. Something fresh and crisp.
When Perri’s hand wraps around my bicep, I shake myself out of my reverie and try to focus on my sister. But my stubborn gaze is fighting to land back on the woman I’ve only seen on TV.
Inhaling deeply, I think I’ve figured out that intriguing scent…
Apples and trouble.