I had one priority.
One focus.
A single reason to keep on the straight and narrow.
And that reason was currently hurtling down the walkway.
Brown hair flying and spirit soaring. Grin wide. As bright as the sun that blazed as it climbed the sky behind her.
The second I’d pulled my truck to the curb, she’d bolted out my mom’s front door, arms lifted over her head and that sweet voice riding the wind.
“Daddy!”
I hopped out of my truck and went straight for her, scooped her up, and tossed her into the air.
Let her laughter rain down around me. A drenching reminder of what I was living for. I caught her, hugging her close while she tightened her chubby arms around my neck in a death grip. “Daddy! Guess what?”
I pulled back a fraction so I could see her face. “What?”
“Grammy gots me paints, and I painted a tree and a mountain and a squirrel, and now I’m gonna be an artist and take paintin’ lessons and be the best dancer in the whole world and Wonder Woman when I goes to the gym with you.”
It was then that I spotted the thick smear of white paint across her cheek and the rainbow of splatters on her shirt.
I glanced at my mother, who was grinning like the Cheshire where she leaned against the doorjamb with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Now you’re going to be an artist, too, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Grammy said my picture was so, so pretty. You think I could sell it and get so much money and then I can buy a dog? Oh, Daddy, please, I wants a puppy so bad.”
I chuckled under my breath because it was the only thing I could do.
“I don’t think a puppy is a good idea right now, Frankie Leigh.”
“Oh, but, Daddy!” She stuck out her bottom lip before she grinned. “You wants to see my picture?”
I laughed. “Nothing I’d like better than to see that picture.”
Wasn’t lying last night. The child was a handful. A whirlwind that spun from one idea to the next without giving me time to process the first.
Sweet to the brim.
Most likely because all those dreams and ideas were gushing out from the inside.
I arched a brow at my mom as we approached. “So, we’re painting again?”
Taking the single step up to the door, I dropped a kiss to Mom’s cheek.
Her smile grew. “Oh, yes. We are definitely painting again. We had a blast, didn’t we, Frankie Leigh?”
“So, so, SO much fun. Can I spend the night here every night?”
I feigned offense. “And you’re going to leave your daddy all by his lonesome every night.”
Frankie’s horror was real. “Oh, no, Daddy. You can spends the night here, too. Right, Grammy?”
“Oh, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh, I think your daddy might be too old for sleepovers. Unless he finally decides to start participating in the right kind. You know, of theadultvariety.”
The last she mumbled under her breath, and the woman had the nerve to shoot me a wink.
