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She smiles. “Go. I’ll figure something out.”
I bend down to kiss her, shove on pants and a T-shirt and hurry outside to say goodbye to Ms. Hansley and to greet my kids.
“Daddy, you won’t believe what happened today. Niko taught me how to say ‘poop’.” Regan makes a gesture with her hands. “See!”
I laugh and nod. “Good job.”
“Hey, dad,” Abe says. His tone is as indifferent as always, but there’s a happy glow to his cheeks.
“Hi, soldier. How was play practice?”
“Good. I think we’re going to kill it on opening night.”
“You better. Everyone at the company bought tickets.” I may or may not have thrown in an incentive for those who filled up the theatre seats.
Abe groans and throws his head back. “Dad, that’s so embarrassing.”
“My son is making his Broadway debut. You bet your bottom dollar I’m going to tell everyone about it.”
“Just… don’t do anything embarrassing. Like force them to hold up signs or anything. They probably don’t want to be there.”
“Hey, just because we prefer to be outdoors doing manly stuff doesn’t mean we’re not patrons of the arts.” I freeze when I realize what I said. “Not that being on stage isn’t manly. It’s very manly—”
“Nice save, dad,” Abe says, patting my back and walking past me.
“I’m still really proud of you!” I yell.
He waves a hand in acknowledgement and stalks into the kitchen to get a snack.
“Is that Regan I hear?” Island’s voice filters through the hallway.
Regan whips her head up, her eyes bulging and her smile exploding across her face. She wiggles to be set down and, the moment I put her on her feet, she races straight for Island.
“Island, you’re here! You’re here!”
Island grins. She takes my breath away in one of my old college sweatshirts, her hair still up in a bun and her skin bearing that freshly-tussled glow.
I watch the two girls collide in a pile of limbs, smiles and laughter. Abe shoots out of the kitchen too, sliding in his socks.
“Whoa. You’re really here.” My son looks pleased rather than annoyed.
“Yeah, I’m really here. Are you guys hungry? I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
“I’m sure you have,” I say, winking.
Island rolls her eyes.
“How about takeout?” I suggest. “I feel like celebrating tonight.”
“Pizza!” Abe and Regan say at the same time.
Abe unleashes a big grin. “You should come over more often, Island. We get to eat junk food when you’re here.”
“She will be here more often,” I say. My eyes narrow on my son. “But junk food will still be a luxury, not a practice.”
He groans. “Come on, dad.”
“Yeah, come on, Clay.” Island pouts.
My stern frown trembles and eventually collapses into a smile.
Island gives me a knowing look before refocusing her attention on Regan, who’s pulling her into the living room to show her the new giraffe coloring book that Cody got her.
I drape an arm around my son’s shoulders. “How about you do the pizza honors tonight, soldier?”
“I’m in,” Abe says.
We join the girls in the living room where we have a loud and laughter-filled night. My hand finds Island’s while the kids aren’t watching and I give her fingers a squeeze.
I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’m so freaking glad she stuck her nose in a place it didn’t belong and set my world ablaze.