“Same thing,” she replies.
He sighs like he is a hundred years old.
I cover my smile with my coffee cup.
He studies me for a second. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yes.”
He narrows his eyes. “Coffee or cooperation?”
“A smile.”
He freezes.
Maisie whispers, “She got you, Daddy.”
His jaw flexes like he is trying very hard not to react, which makes the moment even sweeter.
Then he smiles.
A real one this time, slow, warm, and a little crooked on one side.
And it hits me harder than it should. Hard enough that I look away before I say something embarrassing.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You asked for it.”
“True.”
He clears his throat and turns back to the counter as if reminding himself this is a public place.
Maisie tugs on my sleeve again. “I like your hair,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I think Daddy likes your hair too.”
Liam drops a muffin.
It lands softly, but the way he freezes makes the whole room feel louder.
“Oops,” Maisie says, very unhelpfully.
Liam closes his eyes like he is bargaining with the universe.
I try very hard not to laugh. “It’s alright,” I tell him.
“It is not alright,” he says, grabbing the fallen muffin. “This was part of the display.”
“It lived a good life,” I answer trying not to laugh.
He stares at me like I am testing him on purpose.
I am. I absolutely am.
He walks toward the kitchen, and I catch myself watching him. The way he moves, the way he runs a hand through his hair, the quick look back like he’s checking on me.
