Chapter 5
Chapter Five
ANGELO
Squirter.
I've never seen a shirt like it, but damn do I want to know if it's true.
There hasn't been a woman who caught my attention since my wife's death. I didn't expect that when the time came again, the woman to snag my interest would be a spitfire like Gracie.
I always thought I had a type, but Gracie is proving that wrong. She's not docile like my wife was. Based on the shirts she wears, she's definitely not conservative in the bedroom. Or outside of it for that matter. I have a feeling I will never need to guess what Gracie's thinking.
Wait, what am I saying?
Gracie's my tenant. Nothing good ever comes from mixing business with pleasure.
Plus, I have my daughters to think about.
The only woman they've ever seen me in a relationship with is their mother. None of the babysitters have ever felt permanent. Certainly not in a girlfriend or stepmom role. But maybe Gracie could be. There’s something different about her that gives me permanent vibes.
I sigh and think again about my late wife. How Everly never met her mother. But you better believe I tell her about Nina every chance I get. I don't want my girls to forget the love their mother had for them.
"Daddy?"
How did I get so caught up in my thoughts I never heard the little feet pad across the kitchen tile?
"Hey, Livy baby. What are you doing awake?"
"I'm thirsty. Is she here?" Livy looks at the door that leads to the in-law suite.
"Yeah, baby, she's here. She's currently unpacking. How about I get you some water and then tuck you back in?"
"I want a snack, too."
Of course she does. My little procrastinator and negotiator.Olivia is eight going on eighteen. I have no idea how I'm going to survive her teenager years when I can barely figure out single digits. To be honest, I'm winging it.
"What did you have in mind?"
I pick her up and set her on the marble counter.
Her cute little nose scrunches up as she thinks about her choices.
This isn't the first time we've played out this little scenario.
I wouldn't say it's a nightly routine, but it happens at least three times a week.
And every time I swear I'm going to put a stop to it, but I can't. My little girls have me wrapped around their fingers, and they know it.
Thankfully, they don't take advantage of it too much.
"Nilla Wafers, please."
I smile at her choice because I know it's not what she really wants. This little girl has a sweet tooth, just like me.
"Good choice." I make sure she's far enough back that she won't slide off the counter as I go grab the cookies from the cabinet over the refrigerator. I move over the package of Oreos—the preferred treat for the two of us—and grab the yellow box.
Setting the box down next to Livy, I reach behind her for a cup, filling it halfway with water from the fridge dispenser before setting it next to her late-night snack.
"So what woke you up tonight?" There’s always something that prompts these evening discussions.
"I'm scared to meet her."
I tilt my head. "Scared or nervous?" She often confuses the two.
"Nervous," she corrects. "I'm nervous she won't like me."
"How could anyone not like you?" I ask dramatically, earning myself an equally dramatic eye roll. "You're the sweetest little girl in the whole wide world."
"You have to think that because you're my daddy."
I laugh at the exasperation in my daughter's tone. This is what I mean when I say going on eighteen.
"Okay, maybe I'm a little biased, but that doesn't make it untrue. Everyone loves you, and Gracie will too."
I hope, at least. Otherwise things are about to become real awkward.
Gracie could ignore us. She has everything she needs out there except a kitchen, but plenty of people eat out constantly. Besides, she mentioned a brother. If she wanted to, she could eat over there. There are myriad ways she could avoid us, but something tells me that won't be the case.
"When do we get to meet her?"
Livy nibbles on the edge of the cookie. I'm pretty sure tonight’s late-night snack has more to do with curiosity than being hungry. Normally by now, my daughter would've wolfed down a handful of the treat. She's still working on the first one.
"I'm not sure. We didn't get the chance to talk very much."
"Oh." Disappointment laces her little voice.
"You really want to meet her, huh?" I toss a wafer in my mouth as I wait for my oldest to answer.
"Milly at school has a mommy who paints her nails pretty colors. I want someone who paints my nails pretty colors too."
My heart shatters into a bajillion pieces. After Nina passed away giving birth to Everly, my mother would paint the girls’ nails anytime she came over. Now, due to her rheumatoid arthritis, that’s no longer possible. Her hands just aren't steady enough.
"I would be happy to paint your nails any color you want."
Livy rolls her eyes and grabs her second wafer. "You can't paint nails, Daddy. You're a boy."
I scoff. "Says who? I will take you to a nail salon and I promise you there are boys working there painting little girls’ nails."
Livy doesn't look like she believes me.
"Would Daddy lie to you?"
She sighs dramatically. "No . . . I guess not . . ."
I want to thank her for the vote of confidence, but it's getting late. If I want any hope of getting her ready in the morning without a fuss, I need her back in bed soon.
"Alright, baby. A little birdie told me you have an algebra test tomorrow, so you better get to bed so you can get plenty of rest to do well."
Livy chuckles. "Silly Daddy. I'm too young for algebra. My test is on regrouping."
Ah, yes. Regrouping. A.K.A. borrowing to us old folks. No clue why they insist on changing the name of things and finding new ways to math. Subtraction is subtraction. No need for the fancy terms.
I boop my head with my palm and cause my daughter to laugh even harder. "How could I forget?"
I pick her up under her arms and spin in a circle. I love being a girl dad. There's something so sweet about their infectious giggles that make any day better, even if it isn't bad to begin with.
By the time I get to the top of the stairs, all laughing stops.
Livy knows the routine. No waking up her sisters if she wants to continue having alone time with Daddy.
If Zoey and Everly knew what their big sister did some nights, they would force themselves to stay awake, never wanting to miss an opportunity to join her.
I slip into the girls’ large bedroom. Right now they all share a room with two big built-in bunk beds with a set of steps in the middle.
I custom-made it last year when the girls agreed they all wanted to be together.
Eventually they’ll want to have their own rooms, but for now it's nice having them in one place.
I climb the steps and tuck Livy into the bed on the right. The top left bunk sits empty for now, housing all the extra stuffed animals the girls have.
"Night, Livy baby. Sweet dreams."
"Sweet dreams, Daddy. Don't let the bed bugs bite."
I kiss her forehead and remind her how much I love her, then quietly climb back down the steps and sneak out of the room.
It isn't until I'm in my own room that I let myself think about my new tenant once again. I don't know if it's the thoughts of the shirt she's wearing or the questions Livy was asking, but I crawl into bed and fall asleep to thoughts of Gracie.