Chloe
It was a quiet Wednesday evening in the pool house when Ava came sprinting into my bedroom in a full-blown panic.
Well, as much of a panic as she could show, anyway.
I was kicked back on the bed finishing up my mushroom cross-stitch that I planned to turn into a pillow, periodically texting in the group chat with my mom and grandma. They’d been asking for constant updates since I moved in — and also begging me to come visit. I’d been so busy between school and Ava, though, that I hadn’t had the time yet. So, for now, group texts and phone calls would have to do.
I also had a group text with the girls, photos of Grace in Spain the current topic of conversation. Well, that and the photo Livia had sent, which was of a cylinder-shaped object that looked like tall cup covered by a fake vagina.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was for.
The fireplace was setting the mood, and I was feeling Zen in my coziest pajamas — the only set of thick ones I owned, since living in Florida meant I was usually sweating, not shivering. But we’d had a cold front blow in, and it was just shy of fifty degrees as the sun cast its final rays of gold along the pool.
I had the evening off — by strict orders from Mr. Perry, who had all but threatened me to stay gone until Chef Patel called us for dinner. Between school and his rigorous schedule lately, he hadn’t had much time with Ava, so he was taking over for the night and wanted me to do whatever it was I would usually do before I became his nanny.
I hadn’t fought him. I absolutely adored Ava, but I truly was exhausted, and a night to myself sounded like heaven.
I was also maybe still cringing from my last conversation with Will, where’d I’d admitted in an unfortunate case of word vomit that I’d lost my virginity to an old rap song with my head hanging off the bed.
He’d all but avoided me since then, which told me it had been a drastic overshare instead of the silly little self-deprecating joke I’d meant for it to be. The girls had found it hilarious when I provided the play by play in the group chat. Of course, Livia had then demanded a voice note explaining everything.
I divulged the details, but left out the part of that being not just my first time having sex, but my only time.
So, yes — I’d gladly taken a night off from the awkward tiptoeing around my disturbed boss. Evidence pointed to the fact that I needed the night, too, because my midnight existential crises had turned into midnight fantasies about a certain long-haired, muscle-covered man whom I could not stop thinking about.
Trouble. With a capital T.
I needed to rein it in.
Still, it had felt quiet all night. Too quiet. And I couldn’t help the smile that split my face when Ava slid into my room on her fuzzy, sock-covered feet.
I laid my cross-stitch in my lap. “Hello, angel bug.”
Ava had arrived with all the grace of an elephant on roller blades, her eyes wide, breath shallow, hair a mess like she’d run through a dark magical forest to safety. I half-expected her to tell me we had a dragon to fight outside, but instead, she took a moment to compose herself, sweeping her hair out of her face and folding her little hands in front of her lap.
“I need your help,” she informed me, her chin tilting up, face completely neutral.
“I’m at your service.”
I set the cross-stitch aside and made sure my phone was face down on the bed — just in case Livia sent any other photos. Then, I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to me.
Ava eyed the bed like she was regretting her choice of coming to ask me for help, but then she ambled over, and I helped her climb up next to me. For a while, she stared at where her legs hung off the mattress, her little toes curling in her socks. She, too, was bundled up — and there was something so adorable about seeing her in tiny gray sweatpants and a Tampa Bay Ospreys blue hoodie that swallowed her slight frame.
“I wanna ask Daddy to come to the thing,” she finally said, tucking her hands under her thighs.
I didn’t have to ask for clarification to know what the thing was.
In class today, I’d reminded my rowdy little munchkins that we’d be having Donuts with Daddy on Friday.
I both loved and hated these types of events. On the one hand, it made the kids happy as clams to have their parents, siblings, or grandparents come into the classroom — attendees dependent on what the theme of the event was.
On the other hand, it was hard to avoid very complex emotions when you had children who perhaps didn’t have both parental figures in their lives, or who knew their parents were too busy to join for days like this.
Of course, we always made sure to show those children extra love, to not give them time to be too sad when the day came. We’d give them extra treats. We’d give them special tasks. And usually, they brought someone to fill the gap — maybe it wasn’t Dad, but it was an uncle, or a family friend.
Still, I could sense Ava’s hesitation and anxiety over even bringing this up to her father. I decided to tread carefully.
“Alright,” I said. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Your daddy loves donuts, doesn’t he?”
She nodded, but her eyes were still on her little feet.
“How can I help?”
Ava shrugged.
“Do you need me to help you figure out what to say?”
“No,” she said after a moment.
“Okay. Do you need help remembering what day it is, and what time?”
She shook her head.
For a moment, I waited to see if she’d fill in the gaps. When she didn’t, I asked her if I could hold her hand, and when she said yes, I pulled that little hand into mine and squeezed it, waiting for her to look up at me.
“You seem a little nervous about asking,” I said. “Is that fair to say?”
We’d talked a lot about what the feeling nervous was in the first semester of school — mostly because that was a big emotion for half the class.
Ava nodded.
“That’s okay,” I assured her. “Feeling nervous is totally normal. Do you know why you feel that way about asking your dad to come to school?”
Ava kicked her feet. “I’m afraid he’ll think it’s stupid.”
My heart swelled in my chest. As much as I hated to hear she felt that way, I was so proud of her for being able to articulate it. It made me feel like I’d done something good because she was learning how to communicate.
“Well, that’s a perfectly natural thought, isn’t it? Your dad thinks a lot of things are stupid, huh?”
Ava almost smiled at that. I saw how her cheeks pinched as she fought it back. She nodded.
“I bet he’d say my pajamas are stupid,” I said, gesturing to the light blue fleece covering me from head to toe. It was a whale and penguin print. “And we know he thinks the referees at every hockey game are stupid.”
Ava didn’t fight her smile that time, and a sort of giggle gurgled out of her.
“But you know what?” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll think this is stupid at all. Wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because out of all the things in this world that he loves — hockey, food, quiet time — he loves you the most.”
I tapped her nose with the you, and her little cheeks turned pink.
“I think,” I continued. “He will be over the moon when you ask him. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I happen to know that your dad is off work that day.”
“Because of the bye week,” Ava finished for me.
“Exactly. And just think of how lost your dad is without hockey! I bet it’ll make his day to get invited to spend a morning with you — his favorite girl. He might even smile.”
Ava gave me a look. “Daddy doesn’t smile.”
“Well, maybe you can change that,” I said, patting her leg. “Now, I’ll ask again. How can I help?”
“I think I just don’t want to do it alone.”
“Doing stuff alone can be kind of scary, huh?” I asked. And then I slid off the bed and helped her down, too. “I would be happy to go with you. We’re in this together. And if you need me to talk, you just give me the look, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and I could see her shoulders relax, could see how relieved she felt already. “Now?”
“If you want,” I said. “It’s completely up to you.”
Determination slid over her face, and she nodded. “Let’s do it.”
And this time, it was she who grabbed my hand.
I tried not to melt at the gesture, but failed miserably, and decided it was fine to let myself be giddy at that little breakthrough as Ava tugged me though the pool house.
But when we made our way toward the large sliding glass door, I stopped dead in my tracks, panic slicing through my chest.
“Ava,” I said, careful to choose my words. “It looks like the door wasn’t shut behind you.”
“Oops,” she said. “I forgot.”
Then, she looked up at me with eyes wide as sand dollars.
Realization hit us hard.
“The cats!”
And we both took off in a sprint.
• • •
Will
“Go ahead. Keep laughing,” I said to Chef Patel. “Remember who signs your paycheck.”
That made her snort before another fit of laughter, and she hung one hand on her hip, snapping a pair of tongs at me. “Your accountant signs my check, and I bet you wouldn’t even know how to fire me if you wanted to. I’d probably get checks in perpetuity.”
I grumbled in lieu of answering, not wanting to confirm that she was right.
“Besides, this is the best thing I’ve seen since you refused to shave your mustache during the playoffs four years ago.” She shivered with a bit of a grimace, like the memory brought her both amusement and disgust. “And this sight is far more cute.”
“I’m going to have hair on me for days.”
“Just don’t cough any of it up near my food, and I’m fine with it.”
Arushi turned back to what she was doing in the kitchen as I let out a heavy sigh. Apparently, that sigh disturbed one of the three cats currently using me as a bed, because the white one meowed and glared at me.
“Don’t meow me,” I warned.
The orange one had been the first to invade my space. Here I was, minding my own business and watching Jeopardy, when suddenly I had a furry asshole in my face.
And I do mean a furry asshole.
The cat I was pretty sure was named Nacho had jumped right into my lap, twirling until its tail flicked under my nose. It promptly took a seat, and when I immediately tried to remove it, I was met with a hiss that told me I’d better think twice.
I was ready to bark at the damn thing when its companion decided it was best to team up on me. Black and gray striped and far skinnier than the orange fluff in my lap, that one climbed up onto the back of the couch and walked to where I was sitting before curling up on my shoulder like a scarf.
Every time it flicked its tail, I got a mouth full of hair.
And just when I thought I couldn’t be in a more nightmarish situation, a third, white cat sauntered into the living room. At first, it slow blinked at me and watched from a distance, but as if it sensed when I was about to stand and shove the other two off me, it bounded over and made biscuits on my house slippers before settling in as if it were a nest.
So here I was, held hostage by three cats that scared me more than any winger ever had.
The one on my shoulders jumped a little when my daughter and Chloe slid into the living room, both of them looking like cartoons as their arms windmilled to keep them from falling once they stumbled upon the sight of me.
The other two cats didn’t so much as blink.
Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, eyes flicking from my shoulder, to my lap, to my feet, and then back to my flat gaze.
And Ava was silent for one long pause before she burst into laughter.
It fizzled out of her at first, like she was trying with all her might to fight it. But when it came, it was as if it was a laugh that had been held captive for years, like it was breaking free.
My daughter’s face turned beet red as she gave into it, her eyes watering, and she pointed at the cats on me before dramatically flopping onto the other end of the sectional and down to the floor.
Chef Patel ran in like the living room was on fire, and when she realized it was Ava laughing, her eyes softened, hands covering her heart like she’d just seen a barrel of puppies. She looked from Chloe to Ava to me, and though she didn’t say a word, I could hear her loud and clear.
At least, until my daughter managed to speak through her fit of giggles.
“Daddy’s covered in assholes!”
“Language,” I warned, but my attempt at sounding serious was thwarted by the upturn of my lips.
Because my daughter, the one who was unfortunate enough to have a grumpy brute for a dad, was laughing.
“I’m so sorry,” Chloe finally said, and I realized then that she was wiping tears from her eyes. “They shouldn’t be in here. I promised I’d keep them under control and I… I’m sorry.”
She made her way over to me, bending to grab the white one first, who let her scoop the thing into her arms.
Its blue eyes sparkled at me, and I swore it smiled in victory.
“It’s my fault,” Ava finally said once she was able to control herself. “I left the door open.”
I let out a heavy sigh, but forced as much of a smile as I could. “It’s fine, Pumpkin.”
“I think they like you.”
I arched a brow. “Mm, lucky me.”
Another fizzle of laughter seeped out of her, and when I slid my gaze to Chloe, I saw her eyes well again. She glanced at me, her cheeks turning pink when our gaze met, and just like Arushi, she didn’t have to say a word for me to understand those tears weren’t from laughing too hard.
It was another part of her mission.
She’d made Ava smile, and now, her stupid cats had made Ava laugh.
The corner of my lips tilted up.
I couldn’t even pretend to be mad now.
“Why don’t you help Miss Chloe get them back home,” Chef suggested to Ava. “Dinner’s almost ready.” She disappeared into the kitchen then, but not without watching me a little too closely, a smirk on her lips like she was hiding a secret.
“I can take Coconut,” Ava offered, reaching up her hands for the white cat.
Chloe blinked out of her daze and smiled, handing off the fluff ball. “Make sure you shut the door behind you, okay?”
Ava nodded and walked carefully toward the back door.
When she was gone, Chloe turned her wide, glossy gaze back to me. “Did you hear that?”
“I did.”
“She laughed.”
“She did.”
“It was so sweet,” she whispered. “It was…”
I couldn’t respond, but I nodded, my throat tight with emotion.
Chloe covered her mouth, shaking her head for a moment before sucking in a long, deep breath. Then, she turned to assess my situation.
“I really am sorry,” she said. “I will make sure this never happens again.”
She reached for the cat in my lap.
Which should have been fine, would have been fine — if in the process of scooping the orange terrorist up, her hands didn’t slide right over my fucking cock.
But they did.
I sucked in a breath I couldn’t let go of at the first graze of her warm hand, the thin pajama bottoms I wore doing absolutely nothing to shield me from the touch.
Then, the cat wriggled out of her grasp, doubling down on the fact that it was not ready to leave my lap.
“Nacho,” Chloe scolded, and she attempted the scoop again.
This time, when she rubbed her hand along my crotch, my cock started to wake.
Fuck.
I ground my teeth together, closing my eyes and thinking about anything that might quell that natural reaction — insects, freezing cold ice, roadkill.
But the cat slipped out of her grasp once more, and Chloe toppled in her attempt to wrangle the thing before it could dig its claws into my couch.
Which left her half-straddling my lap, one knee on the couch cushion next to my thigh, and one hand propped behind my head, those perfect, round, full breasts squarely in my face.
Fucking hell.
“Oh, God, sorry!” She squeaked the words, scrambling off me and leaving her sweet scent behind. She smelled of crayons and chai and sugar.
Once she was standing again, her hands dove for the cat with new determination.
But the cat scampered off before she could grab it.
Which left her grabbing me.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and I clamped my hands around her wrists to stop her from trying to do anything else.
If this woman so much as grazed my cock again, I was going to have a hard time not throwing her over my shoulder and having my way with her.
The cat on my shoulder flicked its tail, as if it were deeply entertained by the whole show. Chloe’s face was redder than I’d ever seen it, and she had her eyes squeezed tight, her face pinched up in embarrassment.
I held onto her wrists for longer than necessary, probably just to have some sort of control in that moment.
She peeked one eye open and then the next. “I’m so sorr—”
“If you apologize one more time,” I threatened, but the warning died on my lips, because suddenly, I was very aware of everything.
How the room suddenly felt smaller.
How I could hear her breathing through the silence.
The way my words had softened her.
The way she melted into me.
The way her nipples grew hard beneath the stupid fucking fleece pajamas she wore.
She was still close enough to smell, and I still had my hands clamped around her wrists, and she still had her wide eyes on me, her lips peeling apart slowly as her mouth fell into a soft o.
Every breath she took was shallower than the last.
My nostrils flared.
She swallowed.
“What?” she asked, and fuck, I’d never heard a one-word question sound so goddamn sexy in my life. It was just a breath, warm and dizzying when it met my mouth. “If I apologize one more time, what?”
It felt like a dare.
An invitation.
It felt like she wanted me to follow through on that threat.
Like it turned her all the way on.
And fuck if my cock didn’t jump with the desire to grant her wish.
But what was left of my common sense forced me to close my eyes, and I let out a hot breath through my nose before releasing her hands.
I didn’t dare look at her again. Maybe because I didn’t want to see disappointment.
Maybe because if I did, I’d cave.
“I’ve got Nacho!”
Ava’s voice made both of us jump, and Chloe snagged the tabby cat from the back of the couch before all but running away from me toward her pool house. She didn’t chance a glance over her shoulder.
When she was gone, I cursed, and Chef Patel peeked around the corner with a smirk.
“Don’t,” I clipped, standing and angrily flicking cat hair off my clothes.
Arushi raised her brows and sucked her cheeks in like she didn’t know what I was talking about, dipping back into the kitchen without a word.
Once the cats were wrangled and hands were washed, we all sat down for what I was sure would be the most awkward dinner of my life. Fortunately, Chef Patel agreed to join us at my request, and she carried the conversation with Chloe, allowing me to brood and eat my vegetables in silence.
Just before dessert, I noticed Ava and Chloe sharing some sort of look, and Chloe winked at her, encouraging her with a quiet, “go on” that I was fairly certain I wasn’t supposed to hear.
My daughter took a deep breath, and then she stood, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor when she did. She held her chin high, looking directly at me in a way that made me feel like I was about to get a lecture.
“Daddy, there’s a school thing on Friday. It’s called Donuts with Dad. And I…”
She looked nervously from me to Chloe, who just smiled and nodded.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d come,” Ava continued. “To my school. To the thing.” I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, my daughter hastily added, “You don’t have to. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. It’s probably dumb, anyway.”
When she looked to Chloe, her teacher gave her a look that warned she should be honest.
“But I want you to come,” Ava added sheepishly, and she sat back down, forking her first bite of the little tart Chef Patel had just sat in front of her. “If you want.”
I smirked at her, and then there was a clearing of throats.
Chef stood behind Chloe’s chair, and both of them had a whole conversation with me without opening their mouths.
Arushi’s eyes were wide and threatening, and she held my dessert in her hand like the way I responded would determine if I got it or not.
Chloe, on the other hand, was nodding and smiling and holding up two thumbs, as if she needed my reaction to not just be a simple yes, but a resounding yes, like I’d never been invited to anything so great in my life.
They clearly didn’t know me if they thought I’d say no.
But I guess they did know me well enough to know I hadn’t planned to make any fanfare about it.
I rolled my eyes, dabbing my mouth with my linen napkin before I set it aside and reached for my daughter’s hand over the table. I waited for her to look at me, and then I forced a smile that felt so awkward I didn’t know if I looked happy or scary.
“I would be absolutely honored to attend,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Maybe you could wear your hockey gear that Chloe made you, and I’ll wear mine to match. And I’ll bring the best donuts. We’ll make everyone jealous.”
“You’ll really come?” Ava asked, her eyes lighting up.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
My daughter bit her lip on a smile that was coming more easily nowadays, and then she looked across the table at Chloe, who gave her those two big thumbs up that had been directed at me.
Ava shoved her chair back again, and I prepared myself for a tackle hug.
But she sprinted around the table and threw herself into Chloe’s arms, instead.
“Great job,” Chloe whispered, and she hugged my daughter tight, her eyes shut, the widest smile on her face.
My chest nearly caved in on itself at the sight.
I couldn’t place the feeling — how I couldn’t quite breathe right, how my pulse was unsteady, my mouth dry and a strange sensation pricking my eyes.
I blinked it away when Chef delivered my dessert, muttering a thank you toward her.
But I felt a monumental shift in that seemingly tiny moment.
Something in this house had changed.
Something in Ava had changed.
And it was all because of a certain someone.
