Page 22 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

I grin down at David and Rigby. “We won and averted yet another crisis.” I swear Dave gives me an annoyed look and closes his eyes while Rig wags his tail.

“Hopefully Ty and Myra will handle the invasion well enough,” I mumble, trying to stand up so I can pack these guys in the car and go home.

Though, I’d love to see my parents. This is not the best time for that. I’ll just leave a note and see them over the weekend.

Chapter Twelve

Tyberius

The morning in Seattle rolls in with what many say is the usual mix of drizzle and fog, just another day where the sun seems to hit the snooze button. I know I used to complain about Florida. The constant sweating and unending sun, but now. I think I miss it all.

Waking up to the sound of rain against the window is becoming my new normal. It sets a certain kind of slow-paced mood that makes me want to stay in bed just a bit longer.

Not that I can do it. Myra has to head to school, and I need to start my daily workout.

I get out of bed and head straight to Myra’s room, wishing Indie was here to help us with her clothes and maybe her hair. The videos she sent me last night weren’t enough to teach me how to make her hair beautiful like a princess.

Opening Myra’s bedroom door gently, I see her there, asleep, completely oblivious to the world outside. “Myra,” I say, not too loudly, hoping to ease her into waking up rather than jolting her awake. “Time to get up, kiddo.”

She stirs a bit, one of those half-asleep, half-awake moments where you know she’s trying to decide whether to go back to dreaming or face the day. I can’t blame her; I feel the same most mornings.

“Daddy?” Her voice is the softest murmur, thick with sleep.

“Morning. Are you ready to start the day, sweet pea?” I offer a hopeful smile to ease her day.

“Five more minutes,” Myra’s voice is still thick with sleep as she sees me standing there, a break from our usual weekend-only mornings together.

“Sorry, but it’s time to leave the bed and get dressed, pumpkin.” I try to make my tone encouraging, but not overly pushy.

She blinks the sleep away, slowly swings her legs out from under the covers, and pads over to her closet. That’s when I spot it—the favorite yellow dress she’s reaching for. It’s more suited for a sunny day in the park than a rainy walk to school. Before she even holds it up, I know where this is heading.

“I wanna wear this one, Daddy,” she declares, pulling the dress out with enough enthusiasm that I fear she might break into a song like a cartoon princess. “With my sparkling sandals.”

The dress is adorable, just like my child. But definitely not something she should wear. Not with the weather we’re having today. Kneeling to her level, I prepare myself for a bit of a battle. “Looks like it’s pretty wet and chilly out today. How about we pick something different, warmer, and you can rock that dress another day? We could even make it a special outfit for a special event. Maybe a fancy dinner?” I suggest, hoping we can compromise and go get breakfast.

She looks from the dress to the window, weighing her options. I can tell she’s considering it. But suddenly she shakes her head. Myra smiles and clutches the dress close to her body. “I really want this one,” she insists, giving me a challenging glare.

I try to recall the way Indie convinced her to wear appropriate clothes for the weather without having a big argument.

“How about this,” I ventured cautiously, “you can wear the dress, but we add some layers—like leggings and a sweater over it. It’s cold and rainy, and we don’t want you to get sick, right?”

Myra gives me that look, holding tight to her dress, her stance all set for a standoff. “But I just wanna wear this,” she shoots back, her voice edging up. I can see the tantrum brewing just behind her eyes. “If we were in Florida, you’d let me.”

Hearing that makes me feel like a failure. Did I make a mistake when I decided to come to Seattle? It seemed like a solid choice. The private school she’s going to is one of the best in the country. The contract I signed is worth millions and I’m thousands of miles away from my mother. This time I know she won’t ask me to relocate her with us—since it seems I chose a shitty place to live.

“Listen, we’re in Seattle and we both need to adjust to the changes,” I state as calmly as I can. I don’t even know how to sound sweet, but I hope I can muster something. “I miss Florida, just as much as I miss Winnipeg surprisingly, and . . . Well, all the states I lived in since before you were born. But it’s okay because I know the new place will be just as amazing, even when it’s different.”

She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. “I don’t like it here.”

The negotiation feels more like a high-stakes diplomacy than a morning routine. “Look, pumpkin, I promise to take you to more places, so you learn to like it. For now, we have to focus on getting you ready for school and wearing the dress alone isn’t an option today.” I pause and head to her closet where I grab a sweater and then find a pair of black leggings in her drawers. “But wearing it with leggings and your sweater? That’s like being a superhero who’s ready for anything. Super Myra, brave enough to face the rain and still shine. How about that?” I tried to infuse my voice with as much excitement as possible.

There’s a beat where everything hangs in the balance, then I see her grip on the dress relax a bit. “Can I pick the leggings and sweater?” she bargains. Myra points at the ones I pulled out. “Those are ugly.”

“Yes, of course,” I say, sighing with relief and putting them back where they belong. “You can choose any leggings and sweater you want.”

Picking out the layers turns into its own saga. She wants fall colors because fall is coming and she wants to match with the pumpkins. Fortunately, I found an oversized sweatshirt from last Halloween that she got from . . . Well, I can’t even remember. And unfortunately, she can’t find leggings that look pretty so she keeps the black ones. She does make me promise that I’ll give Indie money to buy her new outfits for tomorrow.

At least, we find our middle ground. Watching Myra spin around, happy as can be in her layered outfit, feels like a win. All the back and forth? Worth it to see her smile. With the wardrobe crisis handled, our next adventure is arguably less contentious but equally important—breakfast. “Alright pumpkin, you ready to have some scrambled eggs with extra bacon?” I throw out there, aiming to keep the peace rolling.

---