“She fell asleep head to heart. That is all.”
“No,” he says. “That isnotall. Not for men like you.”
There is a beat. A very heavy one. Then he claps once, loud enough I flinch and Savannah grumbles.
“Alright. Go save Claudia before Dash starts rattling off screw sizes like that impresses anyone.”
I chuckle. “You don’t like tool talk?”
“If I wanted to hear a man brag about screws, nails, and inches, I would turn on cable news.”
I choke on air, turning away so I don't actually laugh into Savannah’s sleeping head.
“Dinner soon,” I say.
“Bring ketchup packets,” he calls. “They never give enough, and I am not begging for condiments at my age.”
I walk out shaking my head, baby tucked close, heart doing... things it has no business doing.
“Hey, kid,” he calls to me, and I turn as he sits in his recliner. “The nugget.”
“Shit,” I chuckle as I walk over and hand her to him.
“Never had one of these,” he smiles down at her. “The wife always wanted a dozen.”
“Looks like she may have sent you one,” I say before turning and walking out.
“Must have been one hell of a hit,” I hear him chuckle and pause as he continues. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t teach you how to count. She sent me you three, and I’m guessing, two more, the sassy one and the little book lover.”
Fuck that hit.
I step into the foyer and find Dash standing in front of the door, hands on hips like a suburban dad confronting a raccoon in the trash. He is shaking his head so hard his hair flops like a golden retriever after a bath.
“What,” I ask, dragging my hand down my face. “What is your problem now?”
“This door hates us,” he mutters. “It is like, emotionally spiteful. Nothing is lining up. The frame is crooked. One hinge is drunk. Whoever hung it originally did not believe in math.”
I check. He is right. The door sits like it is trying to join Cirque du Soleil.
“Fine,” I sigh. “We take it off. Gonna need some shims to level it.”
Dash brightens up just like he did when Koa and I talked him through changing the lock the first time. “Off the hinges.”
We pop the pin out with a little bit of muscle. Struggle, the damn things have been in there forever.
As he lifts the door, Dash groans, “Bro, this thing weighs like our combined childhood trauma.”
Claudia holds up her fist and he taps it.
“More like your ego,” I grunt as we set it aside.
Claudia appears with a scrap pile. Of course she does. “I found wood shims.”
I blink. “Where?”
“Old pantry shelf in the mudroom, there is a ton of decent scrap wood. I saw it when Paul gave me the tour.”
I nod, “Good looking out.”
