Page 53 of Bastian

Bring it, baby.

Oh, she’s brought it. That’s for damn sure.

The door to my office opens a second time, and a newcomer joins us.

“You wanted to see me?” Banning.

Ah, yes.

There’s something that needs to be straightened out now before I continue in my pursuit of forever with a very angry and beautiful woman.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

My phone buzzes where it’s sitting on the desk.

Text message after message pops up on the screen. I smile, already knowing who they’re from.

Picking up the phone, I unlock it, tapping on the first message.

My heart: Dad. I know what’s missing in our family.

Smiling at my daughter’s text message, I reply.

Me: What’s that?

Three dots appear on the screen before her next message comes through. This time it is a selfie of my daughter holding up a drawing of a small dog.

My heart: I need a feeling puppy.

An emotional dog, I’m assuming that’s what she’s referring to. I sometimes wonder where the hell she gets these ideas from. Then I remember she is my daughter.

She knows what she wants and goes after it even at such a young age.

I was like that when I was a young child too.

I start to type my reply when another message pops up.

My heart: Mommy will totally like a puppy, and you want us both to be happy! Right, Dad?

She’s too damn smart and… manipulative.

Me: It’s daddy. Not dad or father.

My heart: She sends her third favorite emoticon. A face with rolling eyes.

Brat.

A brat just like her mother.

But she’s on to something, and it sparks an idea. An idea and a fire.

Me: Ellaiza, I need you to do something for daddy.

I tell her exactly what I need from her, and not even a second later, my daughter replies.

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