“I don’t,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. “It’s a mess in here, and I’ve been demoted twice already.”
The kitchen was still a bit of a war zone, with splatters of chocolate, a mountain of napkins, and whipped cream scattered on the floor. She didn’t seem to mind, though. As Harper eagerly explained the flavor combinations, Dani’s eyes met mine briefly before she returned to laughing along with Harper, the sound a soothing contrast to the disorder surrounding them.
“So this one isThe Hair Emergency Deluxe,” Harper said, pointing to the blender. “And this one’sThe Pancake Lawyer,but Daddy says it’s too weird.”
“Sounds… very interesting,” Dani said.
“Want to weigh in?” I said, handing her a spoon.
She dipped it in the shake, tasted, and smiled. “Perfect consistency. You’re not too bad.”
I leaned against the counter, arms folded, as my daughter chattered away while Dani helped her pour milkshakes into glasses, wiping stray drips off the counter. My fingers twitched toward the paper towels every so often, betraying my instinct to jump in and assist. Instead, I pocketed my hand, forcing myself to let Harper and Dani share this moment without my intervention.
“So, Logan,” Dani said, leaning one hip against the counter. “How often does Harper rope you into these culinary adventures?”
“Weekly,” I said. “Last week we made cookies that could double as hockey pucks.”
Harper giggled. “We can make them for Aunt Cami’s kids! They like hockey!”
“That’s generous of you,” I said.
While Harper ran to grab her drawing of the “menu,” Dani looked around, taking in the details of the house. The photos on the wall, the books on the shelf, the framed picture of Harper as a baby in my arms. Her gaze lingered on that one, and something softened in her expression.
“She was tiny,” she said gently.
“Five pounds, ten ounces,” I said. “Could fit in one hand. Scared the hell out of me.”
“She’s beautiful,” she said. “You’ve done a really good job, you know.”
I wasn’t used to hearing that. People always saidyou’re doing your best,orit must be hard,but this felt different. Like recognition. The unexpected sincerity in Dani’s words made my heart skip a beat, sending a flutter of surprise through me. In that moment, before I even responded, I could feel the impact of her compliment ripple through me.
“Thanks,” I said, voice low. “Most days I feel like I’m making it up as I go.”
“Aren’t we all?” she said, giving a small shrug. “Parenting, law, life. There’s no manual.”
I smiled faintly. “You sound like someone who could write one.”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, laughing. “My manual would just be full of questionable advice and sarcasm.”
“Better than the Marine Corps version,” I said. “Ours was mostly yelling.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t picture you yelling.”
“I save it for the really serious things. Like when Harper hides my phone in the freezer.”
“That was one time!” Harper called from the living room.
“Two,” I corrected.
Dani covered her smile, but her eyes danced.
Harper reappeared, brandishing her notepad again. “Okay! Everyone rates their milkshake!
We obeyed.
By the time we finished, Harper was half-asleep on the couch, surrounded by crayons and the remnants of a sugar high.
I draped a blanket over her and turned to find Dani rinsing glasses in the sink.
