Page 79 of Accidental Blind Date

His smile grows warm. “It’s more than okay.”

“You live in a princess tower!”

Poppy’s words shoo away any worry I had about the girls not liking my apartment. After all, it’s not the mansion they live in. But a princess tower?

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I say as we make our way up the steps, the girl's eyes locked on my lit-up window on the top floor of the old brick complex.

“She’s right,” Delilah says. “It’s like Rapunzel’s towner. Except that your hair is shorter and you’re allowed to leave.”

“But if you ever can’t leave,” Poppy says, taking my hand and Dax’s hand in each of hers. “I’m sure daddy would rescue you.”

I look over at him, my cheeks pink and he winks, setting free a jar of butterflies in my stomach.

I slowly push the door open and theoohsandahhsbegin. From my weird lamps to my tiny colorful kitchen, to the record player and the artwork, everything seems magical to the girls, which makes it magical to me.

“Your curtain is made of strings!” Delilah says.

“It’s called macrame,” I smile, heading to the kitchen to pull out the ingredients for dinner.

“I want macrame curtains,” Poppy says. “Oh look, daddy! She has kid books! Why do you have kid books? Do you have kids?”

Dax shoots me an apologetic look. “Poppy, honey–”

“It’s because some of the best books were written for kids.”

“Why is that?” Delilah asks, coming into the kitchen with me.

“I think it’s because kids care about more interesting stories than grownups,” I answer, pouring oil into a pan and turning the burner on.

“Why is that?” Dax asks, getting in on the conversation as he starts chopping cilantro that I set out on the counter.

“Because we believe in magic,” Poppy says and everyone smiles.

“That’s exactly right,” I point at her.

After that, everyone has a job. Dax is on onion and cilantro duty. Poppy crumbles the fresco cheese. And Delilah and I sear the meat and fry the corn tortillas.

“I’ve never had tacos that look like these,” Poppy says when we are done.

“They’re called asada street tacos,” I explain as I squeeze fresh lime across the line of tacos.

“They look amazing,” Dax says. I get the girls each a glass of water and a beer for me and Dax. The girls sit on the floor at the coffee table and Dax, and I sit on the couch.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a big dining table. I don’t have a lot of people over,” I say.

“I think this is perfect,” Dax says.

“Like a family dinner,” Poppy adds, taking a bite of her taco and letting out anmmsound.

I’m not sure how it makes Dax feel, the open honesty of it all. So, I set my hand on his knee. A moment later, he covers it with his own and gives it a squeeze.

After dinner, we make chocolate chip cookies and watch Tangled. The girls cuddle up on the floor in front of the TV with blankets and pillows. It might be a small house but something I definitely do not lack is extra blankets, everything from quilts to fleece throws. Dax and I sit behind them on the couch, a blanket of our own over us. Beneath it, his hand is still holding mine, though we are careful other than that.

The girls fall asleep, and we carry them down to his car, buckling them in and softly closing the doors.

“That was fun,” I tell them. “I love being around the girls.”

“And they love being around you,” he says. He seems nervous, an odd look for him. “I love being around you too, Lily.” He shifts his weight. “I was wondering…I bought tickets…”