She wiggles her little body even more, opening and closing her fists, as if calling for him. “Da da… da da…”
I kiss her cheek. “Aww, I know. I miss him too. He’ll be back soon though. And then you can tell him all about your day. About how you made cookies with Mommy earlier and your birthday cake. And how we went to the park in the morning and when we came back, we picked out our outfit for tomorrow’s birthday party.” I widen my eyes and she does it too. “And oh my God, it’s so pretty, right? It’s pink!”
More random baby syllables and nodding.
I nod too to show her how excited I am, which I totally am. Because it is a cute outfit. It’s a frilly tutu-style dress and I got my baby some cute little pointe shoes to go with them.
Along with her love of baking and puppies and her daddy, Halo loves ballet too.
She loves to watch me dance. Sometimes I’ll do a twirl just to make her laugh. She especially loves it when I don the whole costume, leotard and tutu.
“Yeah, it is,” I continue, talking to her excitedly. “It’s pink and it’s pretty and it’s so cute. Just like Halo. And my Halo’s gonna look like a little ballerina tomorrow, right? Just like Mommy.”
She keeps nodding and I kiss her cheek again, making her laugh.
“Okay, but we need to focus, honey, all right?” I tell her. “We need to pick out a color for Daddy’s cupcakes before he gets here, okay? So I can make it all pretty for him and we can surprise him later.”
At this, Halo jerks out a nod, completely getting my meaning and going serious so she can pick out a color for her daddy.
And of course, she picks out her favorite color for him.
I shake my head at myself.
Because duh, I should’ve known. My precious baby thinks that the whole world loves what she loves. Anyway, I spend the next hour, making the frosting, putting it on cupcakes and getting the surprise ready for him.
I’m putting everything away, when I hear it.
The screech of the tires.
Followed by the typical bang of his car door shutting and then my favorite sound in the world, his thumping footsteps, bounding over the porch stairs before he clicks the door open.
Through all this, my heart is racing.
My ballerina heart is spinning in my chest, taking leaps and twirling.
He still does that to me.
His arrival. His impending nearness. The fact that I’ll get to see him in maybe about five seconds. The fact that he’ll be deliciously rumpled and sexily worn out after his long day at Auto Alpha, his garage.
Back when he was working with his dad and hated every second of it, I’d always get this anxiety in my stomach when he came home. Because I knew I’d see the atrocious toll the day must have taken on him.
Now though, all my anxiety is gone.
Even though his days are still just as long, the toll of them is different.
These days his tiredness comes from a good day’s work. A good day spent doing something he’s passionate about, something he loves.
My thoughts break when he at last appears at the threshold of the kitchen.
All tall and burly, in his navy blue overalls. His hair, which he keeps sort of long-ish because I love it that way, is rumpled and his beautiful V-shaped jaw is covered in stubble that still irritates him. Even after I’ve spent hours and days, licking it and kissing it and caressing it.
And his eyes, wolfish and pretty, are on me. As always.
Smiling, I bite my lip and they glint and I can’t wait to properly welcome him back home.
But I’ll have to. Just a little bit.
Because there’s someone else who wants to welcome him home first.
The little girl we accidentally made together on a rainy night almost two years ago. Who’s just as excited as I am at the arrival of the man she loves, her daddy.
The only difference is that she’s going all out to show how happy she is to see him by squealing in her high chair and flailing her arms.
As soon as his eyes land on Halo, my whole body sighs and my thighs clench because I’m about to see the most beautiful thing in the world.
The thing that’s going to make me fall in love with him all over again.
First, it’s his eyes.
Those pretty animal eyes of his melt and his ruby red lips stretch up in a small but tender smile. Then, he goes to her and bending down slightly, he picks her up in his arms, his biceps flexing under the sleeves of his overall.
And then, he says, in a voice that’s so deep and smooth and so fond that my skin wakes up in goosebumps. “Hey, Halo girl. I missed you.”
Okay, I was wrong.
This is my favorite sound in the whole wide world.
When he talks to her in that soothing voice of his.
God, I don’t even know how many times he’s been able to calm her down by just talking to her like that. Or managed to put her to sleep on the nights when she’s fussy and won’t listen to me at all. And I’m so tired and irritable that I don’t know what to do.
Sometimes I envy him that, the magical powers he has.
But right now, I’m totally falling for them. Just as my baby girl.
Because at his voice, she laughs and squeals again, kicking her chubby legs at his chest and clapping, making him chuckle and kiss her forehead.
But the show’s not over yet.
The next part is my favorite part. Even though I always roll my eyes at it.
Halo raises her arm then, tugs on her hair barrette — this one’s white and shaped like a daisy — and gives it to him. Which he dutifully takes from her small hands. Before he sets her down on the island, her legs dangling off the edge, and combs her dark hair with his large, beautiful fingers, putting it back on.
She nods at him. Like this is such serious business, putting a hair barrette on, and he nods back like he agrees.
Like how Mommy did it before was wrong and only Daddy knows how to do it.
I’m about to roll my eyes at their cuteness when he looks up.
He smirks at me and I narrow my eyes at him, mouthing, I hate you.
Which only makes him chuckle and wink, meaning, No, you don’t.
Ugh.
No, I don’t. I can’t hate him. I’ve never been able to. And these days, he’s even more irresistible with how playful and amazing he is with Halo.
Who wants his attention back on her so she waves her hand in his face, tapping his jaw and addressing him in random syllables. He picks her back up and with a last heated look at me, he takes her into the living room like he always does.
He’s going to play with her for a bit, keep her occupied so I can work on dinner in peace. It’s a routine we came up with in the beginning of this whole parenting thing, which I think is working out great for the most part.
Before coming to me.
Which he does about thirty minutes later.
I feel an arm sliding around my waist and his hard body settling against my back. I close the tap where I was washing the lettuce for the salad. Wiping my hands, I raise my arm and caress his stubble, sagging against him.
It’s my turn now.