I bit my lip to stop from laughing. The last thing I needed was to spill bright red nail polish all over Lukas’ cream colored couch. “A few times, actually. And yes, it’s just as insane as it looks on the internet. The outfits are out of this world.”
Charlie, who was examining the rhinestones I’d dotted along her toes, said, “Some are really weird, though. When I go, I’m going to make sure mine is the best.”
I shrugged. My girl didn’t hesitate to call it as she saw it. And if she had big dreams, who was I to deny her? “They can be a little… strange, yes.”
“Wow.” Harper slumped back into the cushions and stared at her feet. “That’s so cool.”
Putting the cap back on the polish, I sat back on my heels to examine my handiwork. Both girls had wanted nail designs. While I was no artist, I was surprised at how well the flowers came out on Harper’s toes, and the polka-dotted placement of Charlie’s rhinestones.
“What do you think, girls? Should we make some ice cream sundaes and settle in for a new movie?” The one they’d put on at the start of our spa day was already over. We hardly paid attention to it, considering our time had been spent laughing and giggling as I worked.
Charlie jumped from her seat, bounding into the kitchen to rifle through the ingredients we’d picked up at the store. She never needed to be told twice about sweet treats. “Uh, duh! I want to make mine the biggest ever.”
I stood, holding my hand out to help Harper up from the couch. She stared at it for a second before accepting. I wasn’t sure whether she’d take it. And when she never dropped it, dragging me into the kitchen, there was a weird twisting sensation in my stomach.
I never wanted to pry, but I was curious about Harper’s relationship with her mom. She rarely mentioned the woman. Anytime she spoke about her past, it was always her dad. How he taught her to braid her hair, or would get up in the morning on her birthday to cook chocolate-chip pancakes and bring them to her in bed.
While her mother’s absence was apparent, her dad’s presence was noted.
In every story, every memory in which Harper mentioned her dad, she smiled. And it wasn’t some grand “I just won the lottery” smile. It was the simple twist of her lips. The kind that portrayed comfort and stability.
I wondered if Duke saw the same thing I did. I wondered if he realized that through everything—the divorce, the cramped living spaces, the long work hours, the inevitable parental breakdown after his daughter went to bed—Harper loved him fiercely.
I hoped, for both their sakes, that he did.
By the time Harper and I made it into the kitchen, Charliewas in the middle of building her dessert monstrosity. “Oh my god, child. What are you doing?” I laughed, shielding my eyes from the mess along the counter.
She stared at a jar of maraschino cherries, brows furrowed and lip bitten in total concentration. “I’m trying to get a cherry,” she said, not taking her eyes off her prize.
“I can see that,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “You do realize, though, that there are, like, six other cherries above the one you’re trying to get, right?”
“Yes, but this is the biggest one in the jar. And it’s the one I want.”
Harper and I both bent forward. “How do you know?”
“Because I have eyes, Mom. And this is clearly the biggest one.”
Harper just shrugged. I nudged her shoulder with my own. “That’s your friend,” I muttered.
She giggled. “Yeah, but she’syourdaughter.”
I straightened up and sighed. “Have I raised a monster?”
Charlie, clearly not finding our jokes funny, met my gaze. “Sorry that I want the best for myself,” she deadpanned before going right back to what she was doing.
Thankfully, my daughter’s attitude was interrupted by a knock at the front door. “I apologize for questioning your desires, daughter. I shan’t do it again.” I pointed toward Harper. “Think you can handle that diva while I see who’s here?”
Harper giggled and gave me a thumbs up before I turned and headed toward the entryway. I could hear them mumbling to themselves and digging through the kitchen drawers as I opened the door.
Cleo stood at the threshold with what looked like a dozen freshly baked cookies, two large pizzas, and a smile. “Sorry, I’m?—”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, setting the food onthe accent table before hugging her. “My savior. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
She laughed and returned the gesture. “Well, I couldn’t let my favorite girls go without those,” she said, gesturing toward the sweets.
While I hadn’t met Cleo until I showed up unannounced in my ex’s hometown, I’d heard about her the entirety of our marriage. Understandably, it took her a little bit to warm up to me. I couldn’t imagine how weird it must’ve been for her to find out the man she’d been in love with since she was sixteen, who had married and had a child with another woman, had been pining for her just as much as she had for him.
But now? Now, Cleo Wilde was one of my best friends. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. There wasn’t a single thing she didn’t know about me, and I her. We had spent many girls’ nights on the couch drinking way too much wine and sharing every high and every low.