Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
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.
Warm-Up Humps
Chloe
My classroom was absolute chaos.
Between the little voices, the adult ones, and my kid-friendly, not annoying playlist — the noise level was roughly around the decibel level of the Tampa Bay arena during a hockey game or a Mia Love concert.
Desks and tables were pushed together with the tablecloths I’d purchased failing miserably at keeping sugar and sticky goo off the wood. We’d had three milk spills already and one box of a dozen donuts dropped on the carpet — which was the kind that held stains like my mother held grudges.
But it was the most magical sort of chaos.
I felt like sunbeams were about to burst out of me as I looked around at it all, taking in the various groups of parents and children. It would be hell to wrangle these little humans once their fathers left, but right now, they were smiling brightly and chattering on and on about what they’d been learning in class.
Their tiny fingers pointed to various areas in the room — our counting posters that lined the top of the white board, the world map and globe that we’d been exploring, the cork board where I proudly displayed their best artwork.
They were so happy, so carefree, so thrilled just to share this little bit of their world with their dads.
It was hard not to feel your ovaries swelling when you saw something like that.