“They do?” I grin. “My name is Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.”
“My name is Kiely. Everyone calls me that, but Daddy calls me Sweet Girl.” She has the cutest little dimples and a noticeable gap between her two front teeth when she shoots me a carefree smile. “Daddy, my belly’s hungry.” She curls into him.
“Okay. Let me talk to Charlotte for a minute, then I’ll make you something,” Jace rumbles with that deep voice that turns my legs to jelly.
“I want Charlotte to make it. I don’t like what you cook,” Kiely complains.
“Charlotte is not here to make you…”
“I don’t mind,” I interrupt him. “If it’s okay with you.” I shrug.
“Yay!” Kiely claps her little hands together. “Can I watch Moana?”
“Fine” Jace sighs. He sets her down, walks over to a dark wooden TV stand, opens one of the cabinets, and removes an iPad. “Come on, Sweet Girl.” He holds Kiely’s tiny hand as he walks her over to the light gray sofa, the only place to sit in the sparsely decorated room. He fluffs up a cotton candy pink throw pillow behind her after setting up the movie. Jace tickles her belly before kissing the top of her head. “You’re welcome!” Jace sings.
“You’re welcome!” Kiely shrieks.
Her tiny giggles warm my heart. My ovaries start releasing eggs like a Pez dispenser from watching them interact. I see Jace is struggling here. He’s just a guy trying really hard to get it right. The love he has for this little girl is blatant. Seeing him like this is doing things to me. All the wetness in my mouth has dried up and resurfaced in my panties. I’m so screwed.
Once Kiely is occupied on the couch with her favorite Disney movie playing on her lap, I follow Jace into the kitchen. I clench my hands, fighting the urge to touch him. It’s open concept so you can still view the engrossed little four-year-old over the small breakfast nook.
“You don’t have to do this,” Jace utters.
“I don’t mind.”
“Let’s see your mad culinary skills then.”
“Let’s see what you have to work with first.” I open the fridge that has half a dozen cute crayon drawings pinned to it.
“Jace,” I groan. “There’s like nothing in here.”
“Uh…I know.” Jace rakes his fingers through his disheveled hair. “I have to get to the store, but she’s been sick, and I…”
“What have you been feeding her?”
“Pizza. Chinese. McDonald’s…oh, cereal.” He says the last one like I’m going to approve.
“Jesus, Jace…kids can’t live on fast food.”
“I know…I…” Jace rubs his forehead. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”
I stare at him over the open fridge door. My heart hurts at his lost expression. “Okay.” I walk over to the small round, white wooded kitchen table and pull out one of the matching chairs. “Sit.” Jace takes a seat, his large frame hiding most of the chair. “Relax, soldier.” I rub his tense shoulders for a second. “I can work with what you have. First, we make dinner, then we order groceries online and have them delivered.”
“They do that?”
“Yep. The magical grocery fairy drops everything right at your door.” I walk back to the fridge and pull out the eggs, making sure to check the expiration date. A package of bacon sits in the drawer and I pull it out, laying it on the counter next to the eggs. “At least you have fresh fruit,” I mutter, glancing at the apples and oranges sitting in a bowl on the counter. I’ll slice them up into wedges at the end. “Do you have bread?” I look over and catch Jace staring at me intently.
“In the pantry.” He points to the door.
“Can you handle the toast?” I hold out my hand, pointing the butter at him.
“I can handle it.” He smirks, taking the tub from me.
“Good,” I say a little breathy. “Perfect.” I turn away from him and get to work.
“Thank you.” Jace rests his hand on my shoulder.
“For what?” I don’t dare turn around and look at him as I scramble up the eggs.
“She hasn’t smiled this much since I took her in.” We both glance over to the couch, eyeing Kiely. Every time she giggles at the movie playing, she glances up at us with a broad grin, expecting us to laugh along with her.
“She’s adorable.”
“I’m struggling here a little. We both are.”
“That’s understandable. What happened to her mom?” I inquire, removing the cooked bacon from the pan onto a plate covered with a paper towel to soak up the grease. I hand Jace the dish to place on the table.
“She passed two years ago while I was still deployed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We were never together. She got pregnant when I was on leave, visiting Sammy before my second tour.”
“Who’s been taking care of her?”
“No immediate family except for her elderly aunt. I promised I’d take custody once I got home. I was trying to get settled first, but Aunt Jenny…she was pretty sick. Cancer. I didn't know how bad it was…until.”
“That's why you left. I’m sorry about Jenny. You could have told me.”
“I’m sorry. I panicked. I shouldn't have left like that.”
I pop some store-bought cinnamon rolls into the oven. The ones that come in those canisters you have to pop open and make me jump out of my skin every time. “At least she has you now.”
“She was scared at first.”
“Well, you are a little intimidating,” I say jokingly.
“She barely talks, and sometimes she won’t eat.”
“I imagine she’s feeling pretty overwhelmed. Maybe she should talk to someone.” Maybe you should too.
“Her first appointment is Friday. We’ll go together in the beginning until she feels comfortable.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m trying here, but I’m pretty sure I’m messing things up.”
He looks so vulnerable. I want to hug him even though I'm still angry. So after I set the plate of eggs on the table, I wrap my arms around his waist because I can’t help myself. “All you need to do is love her. You seem to have that part down pretty well. The rest will come. Give it time.”
“Jesus, you’re incredible.” He leans down and buries his nose in my hair. “This is the first time since I took her in I feel like I can breathe. Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Jace. I promise. You’re a good man.”
“She barely knows me, and she has me on this pedestal like some fucking hero.” He pulls out of the hug, searching my face.
“You’re her dad. You’re kinda her hero.”
“I’ve been a shit father.”
“You were busy being a soldier. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“I could have discharged…after the first tour. I missed all the firsts with her, and she still…”
“She still loves you.” I finish his sentence. I love you.