We’re locked in a staring contest, and I see her eyes start to pinch and her lips go tight. At first I think she’s going to cry, and I start to panic. But then I see her shoulders start to shake, and a loud laugh bursts out of her. It shocks me, and I flinch. Which only makes her laugh harder. The clear bubbly laugh has now turned silent, and there are tears running down her cheeks.
It's contagious, and I become infected, starting to laugh with her. I can’t control it. I place my hand over my stomach, doubling over and laughing harder than I have in a very long time.
We’re both in hysterics.
At some point we start to calm down, but the wide smile is still on my face. Ivy is wiping the wetness away from under her eyes, trying to compose herself. Letting out a final chuckle, she lifts one pointer finger and pokes me right in the center of one of my dimples.
“You gave these to Delilah,” she says softly.
I nod. “I hated them til’ she got them. Now I can’t,” I reply, shrugging one shoulder.
She shakes her head. “How could you ever hate them?” she asks redundantly, lifting her other pointer, and doing the same to the other dimple.
My smile starts to dim, the look of affection on her face, sobering me. She takes the opportunity, and squishes my cheeks inward, making me have a fish’s mouth. I let her. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me.
“Well, grab your bag Peeping Tom. You’re not getting another show,” she jokes, effectively bursting whatever little bubble we were just in.
I shake myself out of it, and trudge over to my bag. “I swear, I thought it was safe to come in.” I look at her earnestly now. “I really am sorry, it was an accident. Truly.”
“Well don’t be too sorry, it’s probably the best ass you’ve seen in your life. It’s my best feature,” she quips, batting her eyelashes.
I snort, and step out of her room and into mine. “You’re not wrong.”
I bring my index finger to my temple and take one last look at her. “It's burned in my brain forever. I should thank you,” I tease.
That makes her cackle.
“Pervert,” she chides, then closes the door in my face.
Realizing I’m standing there smiling at the white paint like an idiot, I mentally chastise myself, and make my way to the bathroom. I close and lock the door behind me, and try not to think about a wet naked Ivy in the room next to mine.
14
Wes
I end up finishing for the day at five-thirty. All the artists at the studio were great, and I met a few potential clients that are willing to travel to me in the future. My three clients I had sat well, so the day went quicker than expected.
All in all it was a pretty easy day. I’m able to relax and focus on my work day, because I know my daughter is just right down the street, probably having the time of her life with who I know is her favorite person right now.
Ivy just texted me about thirty minutes ago, and let me know her and Lilah had finished at the children's museum, had an early dinner, and were about to head down to the indoor pool.
When I get to the hotel, I go straight to the pool, wanting to spend as much time with Lilah as I can before her bedtime. Using my room key, I enter the humid, warm space that smells like chlorine. The sounds of splashing water and laughing children echo through the large room, and I scan the area looking for my girls.
My girls?
So utterly fucked.
I hear a familiar giggle-scream that I know and love, and pivot, following it to its owner. I walk around a massive waterslide and finally spot them. They're walking up the steps of the pool, hand in hand, and I realize they're both wearing black one-piece bathing suits and pink goggles. Delilah’s goggles look like they fit her, but Ivy is clearly squeezing her adult head into a child's size. Her hair is slick back and her face is compressed beneath them. She looks like a fucking dork, and it might’ve made me fall a little.
Delilah sees me, rips her hand from Ivy’s and starts toward me.
“Daddy!” she squeals.
To mine and Ivy’s horror, she breaks out in a full out sprint. My eyes widen, but before I get a chance to say anything, a booming voice echoes through the large room.
“Delilah Mae. No running,” Ivy’s authoritative voice demands.
Delilah halts her steps, turns back around to her nanny wincing. “Sorry, Iby.”
