Carolina, too. Their voices melded together better than lemon and blueberry. Which, speaking of . . .
I froze in the doorway of the kitchen. Dani was perched on one of the barstools, hair a little mussed, cheeks still flushed, wearing yesterday’s leggings and one of my old T-shirts that swallowed her frame. Across from her, Carolina sat with a juice box, blinking up at her like she was a real-life Disney princess.
A mixing bowl sat between them, half full of beige batter. Carolina’s spring-like curls bounced as she stirred with serious concentration, her little arm working the whisk like she was powering the whole operation. Dani leaned over, steadying the bowl with one hand, laughing when a fleck of batter dotted her wrist.
“Did you know,” Carolina said, eyes narrowing in deep thought, “that if you don’t sift the flour, your pancakes could turn out lumpy?”
Dani’s lips parted on a surprised smile. “Really?”
“Daddy never sifts, but I do. Also, room temperature eggs are the secret to fluffy batter. That’s what Mary Berry says.”
“Hm,” Dani mused. She leaned in,reallylistening, her chin propped on her hand like my kid was a world-class chef instead of a six-year-old with a Spice Girls shirt. “This Mary Berry sounds like she really knows her stuff.”
“Yup.” Carolina gave a decisive nod. “Now we need to let the batter rest for at least ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?!” Dani repeated, feigning outrage. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“That’s what cartoons are for,” Carolina said wisely, licking a smear of batter off her knuckle before Dani handed her a towel. “Do you like cartoons, Dani?”
“I do. EspeciallyScooby-Doo.”
I leaned against the doorframe, unseen for now, drinking it all in—the domesticity of it, the sound of their voices mingling like talking about their favorite cartoons was an everyday occurrence. Dani looked completely at home perched there in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, indulging my daughter’s pancake TED Talk like it was gospel.
And fuck if that didn’t do something to me.
It shouldn’t have been erotic—my daughter stirring pancake batter, Dani laughing, soft and easy—but I couldn’t shake the memory of her spread out on that same counter last night, gasping my name while I feasted on her pussy. The contrast made my blood run hot.
But beneath the hunger was something else, something steadier. Watching them together, I couldn’t help but look forward, not just back. The vision was clear as day. The four of us—Carolina, me, Dani, and the little girl we were bringing into the world. Pancakes, cartoons, messy batter on small fingers, and a life where my kitchen always sounded like this.
Warm and bright and full of love.
I swallowed hard, shifting my weight before they could catch me staring like a lovesick fool.
Carolina tilted her head suddenly. “Do you know how to make a birthday cake, Dani?”
Dani froze. Her fingers tightened around the bowl, a quick flash of panic flickering in her eyes. “I’ve baked a few before.”
“But like, arealone?” Carolina pressed. “With the layers and sprinkles? Daddy said that he would help me this year, but he burns pancakes, so . . .” Her little nose wrinkled.
Dani opened her mouth, then closed it again, fumbling for an answer that might satisfy my daughter. Her eyes darted quickly, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer that.
“Oh, you have to come to my party, too!”
That was my cue.
“Hey,” I said, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the room. Both of their heads swiveled toward me. Carolina grinned. Dani shot me a look over Carolina’s head, something betweenhelp meanddon’t you dare laugh.“What’s this I hear about birthday cakes? I thought we were making pancakes.”
I just smirked, sliding a hand over the back of Dani’s chair as I leaned down to kiss the top of my daughter’s head.
Carolina’s little mouth tugged into a tiny pout. “We can do both.”
“Pancakes first,” I told her. “Go wash the berries, please.”
The moment Carolina dashed off toward the sink, Dani straightened, smoothing her hair like she’d just realized where she was. Her eyes flicked toward the hall, the front door, anywhere but me.
Shit.
I caught the shift in her posture, the panic blooming in her eyes like she was about to bolt. Sure enough, the second Carolina was distracted, Dani slid off the stool and padded toward the other room, barefoot and quiet.
