He says something to the boys quickly, probably telling the older two to stick to the shallow water with Preston until he’s back to them, and I keep one eye glued to them as he comes over to assist.
I don’t know how this man is so gentle with everything living in our house, but he has the amazing ability to bring calm to any situation and make it better. So when injuries and owies started popping up, first with the kids, then with the dog, he became Dr. Daddy.
His infinite patience and his soothing presence works wonders on everyone who shares my DNA or my heart, apparently.
He comes up to us, water dripping down his chest, wet, freshly buzzed hair glinting in the late morning sunlight, and winks at me as he approaches. If our daughter weren’t crying in my arms, I’d check him out a little more, but I’m focused.
“Sally saw some seashells down by the seashore, and she stepped on one and took it with her,” I tell him, waving her foot at his face.
“Oh no! A seashell removal surgery! No problem, I’ve had to do a bunch of those already today, Lele. You’ll feel better in just a minute, princess.”
I hold her foot still for him while his fingers work more nimbly than you’d think thick ones like his could go, and she squirms a bit, but in no time, he’s got the offending particle and holds it up for her to see in between his fingers.
“All done!”
Her little features pinch together, mad at the shell.
“You wanna get rid of the shell, or keep it?” he asks her. “Patient’s choice.”
“Trow it!” she yells.
From that eye still on them, I see Preston watching us while Ford and Brad wrestle and roughhouse in the knee-deep water.
Chance puts the little piece of shell in her hand, pulls her arm back, and helps her launch it into the water. It goes about two feet, but still. She feels accomplished, more powerful than the shell, and when he grins at her, a smile overtakes her face again.
“Tank you,” she tells him, and reaches for his arms, leaning out of my grasp.
“You’re welcome, Lele. You wanna dance with Daddy now?”
She just stares up at him, stars in her eyes, and girl, same.
He holds onto her little body, one tiny hand in his much larger one, and spins her around right where the water laps at his ankles.
My heart melts on the spot, pooling at my feet and joining the water as it rushes back out to sea. I get another wink from the man responsible before I head back to my chair and get into my current read.
It’s not long before I need Ellie to read this one with me. I need to vent to someone about this fine specimen of a fictional man.
Me
Hey
You reading anything good rn?
That Bitch
Maybe, whatcha got
Captive of the Castle
[fire emojis]
[melting emojis]
[sweating emojis]
Is it hockey? Cowboy? Or both?
You know I’m on a mafia kick
