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“I’m not ready, Willa. I just got used to the fact that she has several Roth IRAs.”
“I’ve been emotionally preparing for this since she was five and told her teacher, ‘I don’t need to be a princess—I’ll own the kingdom.’”
“Remember when she couldn’t say ‘sparkle’ and kept saying ‘sparko’?” I smiled.
“She used to wear glitter like war paint.”
“Do you remember when she was twelve and threatened to sue me if I made her go to bed during a ‘creative cycle’?” I chuckled.
“And now someone wants to marry her.” Willa reached over and grabbed my hand.
“And we’re allowing it.” I sighed.
“We don’t have a choice. I’m sure she already negotiated terms with him. Poor guy.”
“Leo is a good guy. He’s kind, smart, and terrified of her in a good way.” I smirked.
“He laughs at her sarcasm. He lets her lead. He listens. He reminds me of someone I love very much.” Her brow raised.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. Are we old enough for our kid to get engaged?”
“We got married in Vegas after knowing each other for a few hours.” A smirk crossed her lips. “At least she fell in love first.”
“We were drunk and drugged,” I said.
“Okay, but we were hot together. You have to admit that.”
“We still are.” I winked.
“True.” Willa held up her glass, and I tapped mine against it.
“I just can’t believe it’s happening. You sure called it. I still remember holding her the day she was born, staring at me with those big bossy eyes.”
“She came out of the womb with opinions,” Willa said.
“She came out with a life plan,” I said.
“And if Leo hurts her?” Willa asked.
“I’m not worried about that.” I chuckled. “She’ll destroy him first—his heart, soul, body, and mind. Come here.” I held out my arms.
Willa stood up and climbed onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.
“I give them two weeks before she sends him a branded engagement schedule and an email with the subject line that saysOur Marriage Mood board,” Willa snorted.
“He has no idea what’s coming. They haven’t even lived together yet,” I said.
“He’ll be fine. His life will be spreadsheets, glitter, moody moments, chaos, high demands, and tax deductions,” Willa said.
The door to the terrace opened, and Delilah looked at us.
“Can you please not?” She cocked her head. “Mom, get back over to your chair. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
A boy followed her out to the terrace.
“Mom. Dad. This is Peter. Peter, my parents. Don’t let them intimidate you. They’ve mastered it over the years.”
“Sweetheart, that is not true,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”