Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(164)
So that was not going to happen.
However, Logan and I would have that conversation at a later date.
Right then, I looked up at Logan. “I actually DVR’ed Pitch Perfect and Easy A a while ago and I’ve been wanting to watch both of them for ages.”
“I love Pitch Perfect!” Cleo squealed.
“Jesus,” Logan muttered, frowning down at me.
“Of course,” I said hurriedly, “we can watch them another weekend.”
“Oh, Daddy, we so have to watch Pitch Perfect,” Zadie stated excitedly.
So excitedly, my eyes flew to her.
She was looking up at her dad, her eyes now shining, something I’d never seen.
Like her sister, the transformation was amazing.
She was a cute kid, a budding beauty, both impossible to miss.
But now, both the cuteness and the beauty shone from her like a beacon that was blinding.
Seeing it for the first time, I got why her father spoiled her. I, too, would do anything in my power to get that aimed at me on a regular basis.
It might not be good parenting.
But staring into that beam, I knew it would be near impossible to beat back the urge.
“It’s funny and so good,” she went on, “even you’ll like it.”
I hadn’t seen the movie yet.
Still, I knew a movie based on a capella groups dueling each other in college was not something Logan would ever like.
“That movie too old for you?” Logan asked.
“No,” Cleo answered.
“Totally no,” Zadie put in.
“Zade’s right, Daddy. You’re so gonna laugh. It’s really funny,” Cleo stated.
Logan let me go to move back to the stove, muttering, “So I gotta put up with the mall, nail polish smell, and I don’t even get to pick the movie.”
“Millie, Cleo, and me’ll make chicken, bacon mac ’n’ cheese,” Zadie bartered.
When she did, I went still.
She’d included me in that.
Me!
I didn’t know what chicken, bacon mac ’n’ cheese was. But I was so totally making it.
I fought back giggling like a lunatic and twirling in delight.
“Chicken, bacon mac’s the only thing worth watchin’ an asinine high school movie,” Logan murmured to the skillet.
“They’re in college, Daddy,” Cleo informed him.
“Chicken, bacon mac’s the only thing worth watchin’ an asinine college movie,” Logan murmured to the skillet.
Cleo giggled.
Zadie did too.
My heart got so light, it lightened everything about me to the point it was a wonder I wasn’t floating on air when I went to the pantry to get the syrup.
I had that out, plus the butter and plates, forks, and napkins on place mats before I went back to the stove to relieve Logan of his duties.
“Heat up your coffee, Snooks,” I said softly, pushing in to take the spatula from him. “And grab a stool. I’ll finish here.”
“Babe,” he replied.
I looked up at him.
It was then my heart stopped.
Because now, his eyes were shining. Shining and happy and relieved.
And I saw his girls got that from him, too, that look transforming his beauty into something breathtaking.
As I gazed up at him in wonder, he bent and touched his mouth to mine. It was a swift kiss. Light. There and gone.
But it was happy too.
He relinquished the spatula, grabbed my mug as well as his, and heated up both our coffees before he took a stool.
I served French toast. It was good French toast. But it was just French toast.
Still, I was going to remember that French toast for the rest of my life.
Because I ate it listening to Cleo babbling, Zadie joining her, and watching my man eat his surrounded by all his girls, looking straight down to his bones happy.
* * *
“Okay, so that went good,” I said to Logan, who was moving around me in the kitchen.
It was late evening. He was finishing up his last beer. I was cleaning my wineglass.
We were headed to bed.
The girls were already down.
Bribery apparently worked.
It worked so well that even when Pitch Perfect proved to be a tad bit too adult for Logan’s girls (as decreed by Logan, even though they’d both already seen it so he couldn’t put the kibosh on it) and he’d shared that unhappily, nothing came of this since we were still riding the wave of mall, yogurt by the pound, and girlie treat in-house mani-pedis.
Zadie may not have been about hugs and shouting endorsements of me from the top of her lungs, but she hadn’t done a single bratty thing all day. She’d even shyly, almost like it was against her will but she couldn’t stop it, asked my opinions on things she’d purchased.
And she’d listened to my answers.
As for Cleo, any barriers that may have remained between her and me had crumbled down. She saw her mom with me. She saw her father not happy to be at the mall shopping but definitely happy to be with his girls. And she appreciated all my efforts, and not just the gift cards.
The people she loved were settled and content and that was all Cleo Judd needed.
Therefore, she was open and talkative, friendly and familiar, and riding a near-teen-girl wave of joy at having a new top, earrings, bangles, hair stuff, and girl gizmos.