“All that, yes.”
“Chrissy, you’re all muddier now!” Allie sighed, the sound so expressive.
“Mumbier!” Chrissy cackled and rolled in the grass.
“Oh, wow. That’s gonna be…”
Ichabod shook his head. “We’ll hose her down first.”
Allie stamped her foot. “She won’t learn, Daddy!”
“She’s just little, baby girl. She still likes to be dirty.”
“Some of us never grow out of it,” Ellis murmured.
“Why?” Allie stared right at him. “It makes me cry.”
“Well, honey, that’s something for you to avoid then. But for some of us, playing in the dirt is a way to be close to the earth.” Ellis grinned at her wrinkly nose. “But we can wash up before we hug you.”
“Okay.” She pursed her lips and pointed. “Daddy, get the hose and squirt the baby.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ichabod put on his flip-flips and marched down to unhook the sprinkler so he could hose down Chrissy, who giggled madly.
She started doing a hula-jitterbug-hootchie-cootchie dance, and Ichabod began to sing for her.
“Ugh.” Allie headed into the house, wrapping her towel around her.
“She is something else,” Ellis managed through his laughter.
“She is. All of them are.”
“Yeah. Well. I should go do an early feeding so we can eat and then go, huh?” He grinned, the day having turned out so damn good.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll get the girls down for a nap.”
“I’ll meet you back here.” And he walked off, humming a Garth song under his breath and smiling wide.
Telling Ichabod everything had been the very best idea he’d had in ages.
Chapter Eleven
Ichabod couldn’t figure out whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt.
He was having real trouble with this whole Ellis situation. He’d been in love with Chris for a long time. He’d been into Chris for a long time before that. He’d been into mourning Chris for a while, and now suddenly he was having feelings—not just with his dick feelings, butfeelingfeelings—for Ellis.
He wanted things, and he wasn’t sure how to do this—how to make the first move. How to be a…sexual adult.
So he did what any red-blooded gay man would do.
He got on the phone, and he called his best friend, Brian. “Hey honey. I need help.”
“What’s the matter? I can be on a plane in three hours.” The chaos and concern wrapped around him like a boa constrictor. “What do you need? Are the kids okay?”
“The kids are fine. I don’t need you on a plane. I need your advice.”
He heard athumpand then the clatter of ice cubes into aglass. “Oh shit, honey, don’t scare me like that. You know how I am.”
“I do.” He and Bri had met each other in college. Textiles and ceramics had been on the same floor and they had been struggling through the same prerequisites. While he’d only managed to get a handful of hours away from Denver, Brian was in Atlanta living his wildest designer life, making costumes for shows all over the country.
