Me: Hey, baby. I’m here.
Baby girl: I’m at the neighbors’ place. I’ll leave now and meet you upstairs.
A moment later, I hear her voice on the other side of the door on the second floor. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but her neighbors’ loud voices are crystal clear.
“Make sure he’s good to you,” a woman with a thick Italian accent says.
“Who says she wants him to be good to her?” a man hollers in response. “She’s not dating, remember?”
“She wasn’t dating, but she obviously is now,” the woman replies as the door swings open and Savannah appears on the other side, cheeks flushed, looking flustered.
Her eyes go wide when she sees me.
“Oh, is that him?” The woman pushes into the doorway next to Savannah. “He’s cute,” she yells over her shoulder, presumably to her husband. When she turns back, she takes me in from head to toe without an ounce of shame. “And old. Savannah, sweetheart, how old is he?”
Savannah’s eyes fall shut and her chest and neck turn as bright as her cheeks. “He’s not that old.”
With a chuckle, I shrug. “I’m forty-six.”
“Forty-six,” the man hollers. “That’s old.”
“He’s not that old,” Savannah says, louder this time.
A full laugh escapes me. “They’re not wrong.”
She huffs a sigh. “Don’t encourage them. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Pasting on a smile, she turns to the woman. “Good night, Rosalie. I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon.”
“You should bring your man friend.”
“Boyfriend,” I correct with a grin.
She shakes her head. “You’re too old to be a boyfriend.”
I still can’t see the man, but his words ring out loud and clear. “Forty-six is too old to be a boy.”
“My Nico is never wrong,” Rosalie tells me. “But yes, you should come tomorrow. Sunday dinner. Bring wine.”
Savannah huffs. “He might have plans. You don’t just tell people to come over and tell them what to bring.”
I smile. “No plans, and I’ll cover the wine. No problem.”
“See? That’s a good boy,” Rosalie says.
It’s tempting to point out that she just told me I’m too old to be a boy, but by the exasperation on Savannah’s face, it looks like she’s desperate to get out of here. I’m itching to get my hands on her anyway, so I only nod in answer and step back so she can exit.
When she finally does, I angle in and press a kiss to her cheek, then bring my mouth to her ear. “If they don’t think you should call me your boyfriend, do you think they’d approve of the name you use when it’s just the two of us?”
She whacks me in the stomach. “Stop.” The single word is sharp, but when she looks up at me, her eyes dance with amusement.
“Come on, baby girl. Say it for me. Just once.”
She purses her lips, trying hard to hide her smile.
“Daddy,” I say in a higher-pitched voice, pretending to be her.
She snorts.
“It’s fine. I’ll get you to say it before the night is over.” I press another kiss to her cheek and then motion toward the stairs. “Now lead the way so we can finally get our first date started.”
