"With whipped cream," she says.
"Naturally," I say.
Daisy wedges herself between us and sits like she has been summoned to judge the deal.
"See," I tell her. "Everyone wins."
Maddie hugs Daisy's neck. "If there’s broccoli," she tells the dog solemnly, "we stick together."
Daisy gives Maddie her paw and a big sloppy kiss.
For a second I just stand there watching them and feeling something warm.
Not panic.
Not uncertainty.
Something softer.
Something that feels a lot like belonging.
I shrug off my coat, wash my hands, and slide into the flow like this has been my life forever.
Maddie launches into a twenty minute story about recess that includes a dramatic betrayal involving a jump rope, a best friend named Emma, and a rule violation that apparently required immediate legal counsel.
Gabriel serves the pasta while pretending he understands every detail.
Daisy positions herself beside Maddie's chair like a professional crumb collector.
"She’s staring at my noodles," Maddie says.
"She respects your culinary choices," Gabriel replies.
"She's planning a crime," Maddie insists.
I laugh so hard I almost drop my fork.
For a second I forget this whole thing started as a strategic marriage. And maybe that is exactly what I hoped would happen.
***
Later the house is quiet.
Maddie is asleep upstairs.
Daisy is stretched across the living room rug like a furry throw pillow.
I wander downstairs in pajamas.
Gabriel is already on the couch watching television.
He glances up.
"Want to watch TV?"
"What are we watching?"
"Some reality show where people date while covered in body paint."
