“Daddy could use one of those hugs,” I say, stepping into the room and making myself known.
“Daddy, pwane!” Camden cheers, and I step further into the room, scooping him up in my arms. He hugs me, his little arms tight around my neck.
“That’s the best hug,” I tell him, placing him on his feet. He runs and jumps on Sloane.
“Umpf,” she says, catching him.
“Cam,” I say, my tone warning. “Be easy with Sloane.”
“Swoan okay?” he asks, his bottom lip quivering.
“I’m fine,” she assures him. “But I sure could use a big hug.”
That’s all he needs to hear before he wraps his little arms around her neck and holds her tightly.
“Let her breathe, son,” I tease.
Camden lets go of her and takes off with his arms at his sides, pretending to be a plane, while I offer Sloane my hand to help her stand. She takes it, and the warmth of her skin feels like a burn with her palm against mine. I tug gently, and she lifts onto her feet, falling into my chest. On instinct, I wrap my arms around her waist to steady her.
“Welcome home.” She smiles up at me.
“Thanks,” I say, releasing her and taking a step back. “What’s with all the flying?” I ask, watching my son zoom around the couch for the third time.
“Oh, we were out back blowing bubbles, and a plane flew over, so I made up a story about a little boy and his nanny going to watch his daddy play football.” Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink.
I smile. “I might need to hear this story,” I tease, enjoying the soft tint in her cheeks.
“It’s riveting. I assure you,” she fires back.
“Uh-huh,” I say, as my grin grows wider.
“Are you hungry? I made dinner—nothing fancy—but there’s a plate for you in the microwave. If you’re not, we just need to put it in the fridge.”
“I’m starving, actually. You didn’t have to make extra for me.”
“You’ve had a long day, and I was cooking for Cam and me, so it’s not like it was a lot more.”
“What did we have?”
“Cheesy chicken and rice with broccoli.”
“And you got him to eat it?”
She nods. “Yep. I told him only big boys who eat all their broccoli get to fly planes and play football like their daddy. I know it’s deceiving him, but it worked.” She shrugs.
“I’m all for it. It’s good for him.”
“Yeah, I mean, not covered in cheese, but it’s better than nothing.” She chuckles.
“I’d have to agree with you. I’ve learned over the last two years that you have to pick your battles, and oftentimes, the battle of vegetables is not one I like to fight. I make smoothies a lot, and he drinks them because I do,” I say, shrugging.
“Nice work, Daddy Sin.” Sloane holds her hand up for a high-five, and I slap my palm against hers.
“Swoan, pwane,” Camden says, running into her legs and gripping them tightly as he smiles up at her.
I watch as Sloane lifts Camden to her hip and gives him all her attention. “Well, now that your daddy is home, we need to let him eat dinner, and then, little man, it’s time for a book and bed for you.”
“No bed.” He shakes his head.
