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Sometimes Akela is also at the foot of the bed. I’m not sure how the four of us fit in Noel’s queen-sized bed, but we manage.

We still get our “alone time” every night until we fall asleep. As for spontaneity, we figured that out before we got married.

Do I have to tell you Noel’s store was a massive success? She did sell out of her most popular items, but most people were excited for the new business in town. They were excited to sign up for her mailing list, and she even recruited some of the local craftsmen, cooks, beekeepers, and peach condiment makers to stock her shelves.

“It’s what I always dreamed of doing!” Her arms were around my neck, and I got the benefit of her excitement in hugs and kisses and some really hot sex.

Which brings us to tonight…

The Princess Peach pageant.

I didn’t believe my wife when she described this experience to me before. I always thought of pageants as kind of silly, women’s shit.

Now I’m wishing I’d never encouraged Dove to follow her dream of being Princess Peach. I wish I’d encouraged her to focus on her math skills, which apparently count for nothing in this realm.

We’re halfway through.

The lights rise, and it’s time for the talent portion to begin. I’m standing in the back of the room with the other dads, but my chest is painfully tight as I wait for Dove to take the stage.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Noel paces at my side with her hands clasped in front of her lips.

I’ve also learned this about my wife: when she’s nervous or scared or worried, she can’t be still.

“She’s going to be great.” I cross my arms over my chest like the other dads, and I realize it’s a defensive move.

This is scary as shit.

“And now we have Miss Dove LaGrange-Rhodes singing ‘Over the Rainbow.’” The jackass MC from Shreveport introduces her in his gameshow voice. You’d think she was about to be the next contestant on Wheel of Fortune.

Dove walks out in a blue and white checked dress, a bright red wig on her head styled in two ponytails, a little basket, and Akela by her side. The room chuckles at the dog-switch, and she launches into her song with a confidence that impresses me.

She’s more like a sixteen-year-old than a six, and I’m not just being her dad when I say she has a really good voice. It’s sweet and clear, and she can carry a tune. It’s not Broadway caliber, but it’s good.

She walks slowly, singing about birds and wishing on a star and longing, all while wistfully looking overhead with Akela at her side. My eyes go to the five “celebrity” guest judges, and they don’t smile. They look down at their desk, some making notes. All I know is those assholes had better decide she’s the best singer they’ve ever heard.

“I get it now.” I lean over to whisper to my wife.

Noel looks up at me. “What?”

“Pageants suck.”

Dove finishes, and the room erupts into applause, looking around, I see a few women wiping their eyes, and I clap louder, doing a Taxi whistle with my fingers. Noel shakes her head, but I don’t care. My baby killed it.

Making my way to the dressing room area, I pass a woman in a sable coat, and I pause.

“Head up!” she whispers, watching the girl out on the stage now. “Smile.”

I lean to the side, peeking around the wings, and I see Darcy is on the stage singing “Good Morning, Baltimore.”

My brow furrows as I look from the girl onstage to the woman in the wings frowning and moving her arms as if the little girl isn’t doing a good job. I mean, okay, Darcy is a piece of work, but she’s doing a decent job speak-singing the song.

I feel a tugging at my waist, and I see my little Dorothy-Dove in front of me. Smiling, I sweep her onto my hip and give her a hug. “You were amazing.”

She pushes back, giving me a worried look and nodding at the stage mom losing her shit behind me.

“No!” The woman hisses. “Smile, Darcy! Chin up!”

Dove looks out toward the stage, and her brow is still furrowed. I follow her gaze to where Darcy is waving her hands, performing hard in her little bouffant wig and fifties outfit.