I swoop her into my arms, and she snuggles into me.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she says, tugging on her ear.
She says she’s good most times I ask how she’s feeling or how she slept, so I don’t always know. I lean my cheek against her forehead.
“Hmm, you’re still a little bit feverish. Let’s have some food and get this fever down.”
I take the medicine into the kitchen with us, and Chloe leans her head against mine when she sees Dylan. I hold back a laugh when I peek down at her and see her curious yet bashful expression. He smiles at her, and my stomach flip-flops. He looks like a tall, muscular surf god fulfilling every fantasy as he stirs the pot of soup he just made.
What kind of life is this?
“Remember my friend Dylan? He made soup for us. Does that sound good?”
She nods.
Dylan pulls out an Aladdin bowl and spoon from a grocery bag that I missed. I stare at him in shock. How would he know that this is her favorite cartoon?
“Would you like it in this Jasmine bowl?” he asks.
Chloe’s head pops up. “I yike Jasmine,” she says.
“Me too,” he says. “I noticed you have a little Abu hanging on your backpack.” He fills her bowl with soup. “I should totally get one for my backpack.”
She nods, her curls bouncing against my cheek. “He’s soft.” She looks at me. “I go get him.”
I set her down, and she hustles to the bedroom. Dylan and I watch her and then look at each other.
“Well, you just have all the moves, don’t you?” I say.
His eyebrows lift. “Oh, was that a move? I wasn’t even…I mean, yeah, that was…intentional.” He grins, correcting himself. “Did it work?” he whispers.
I walk over to him and lean up to kiss his cheek. “It worked really, really well.”
Chloe comes back in, holding Abu. She shows Dylan, and he confirms that Abu is, indeed, soft. Between them chatting about all the things they like about Abu, I give Chloe her medicine and we eat soup.
My face hurts from smiling.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SLEEPOVER
DYLAN
“This was delicious, Dylan. Thank you. Best chicken noodle soup we’ve ever had. Right, Chloe?” Dahlia smiles down at Chloe, who’s slurping a noodle.
Chloe nods, her curls bobbing. She’s so entertaining, I don’t know how Dahlia gets anything done with her around because everything about her is fun. I push my hair out of my eyes, and Chloe watches like she’s curious about me too. Dahlia wipes Chloe’s mouth when she’s done eating, and Chloe climbs out of Dahlia’s lap.
We watch as she toddles across the sun-drenched living room, her steps slapping against the hardwood, one hand clutching that little stuffed monkey like he’s helping her balance. My house feels different just having them in it. A place where magic happens in slow motion, where a two-and-a-half-year-old elf with curls and a runny nose has claimed my heart in the span of several hours.
I realize that’s nuts, but that’s why I’m calling it magic.
Chloe is still flushed, but her eyes look brighter now thatthe antibiotics are kicking in. She gets something out of her bag and brings it over, beaming up at me with her gap-toothed smile. She thrusts a tiny purple ponytail holder in my face.
“I give you princess hair?” she asks.
I’d let her tattoo me if she asked.
