“Do not encourage her,” Liam tells him.
“I’m encouraging everyone,” Mark says before disappearing into the kitchen.
I turn back to Liam. “I need a few minutes to go over the updated tasting plan. Mind if I grab a table?”
“Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll get a coffee started for you.”
I blink. “Thanks.”
“It is for morale,” he says.
Right. Morale. And here I was thinking he was just being thoughtful.
He heads toward the espresso machine. I take a seat, and before I settle in, Maisie climbs into the chair across from me.
“Can I help?” she asks.
“Of course you can,” I tell her.
Liam’s head lifts the moment he hears that. “Define help,” he says.
“I will supervise,” I promise him.
He looks unconvinced but does not argue. He brings my coffee over a minute later, and when he sets it down, our fingers brush. It’s a quick touch, barely there, but it sends a warm little spark up my arm that I feel in places that have no business reacting.
“Thank you,” I say, quieter than I intend.
He nods and steps back like he needs the distance.
Maisie watches him go, then leans close to me. “Daddy likes you.”
I freeze. “Oh?”
She nods with full confidence. “He looks at you different.”
My voice drops. “Different how?”
She thinks about it seriously, then says. “Like when he looks at pancakes.”
I snort coffee up my nose. “Pancakes?”
She nods again. “He really likes pancakes.”
I laugh and wipe my mouth. Following the logic of a six-year-old is like stepping into an alternate universe. I love it.
“Well,” I say. “Your dad is very nice.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “He’s the best.”
And just like that, my chest squeezes again.
I start going over the basics of the tasting plan, keeping it simple so Maisie feels included. She sits across from me, swinging her legs and drawing while I talk, but she still jumps in every few minutes with a new idea.
“Will there be balloons?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Maybe,” I say. “Do you think we need balloons?”
“Yes, for happiness.”
