Page 40 of Second Chance Baby

Maybe I still struggled to roll with the punches, but I was learning more every day.

I sighed. “She does, doesn’t she?” Carrington rolled onto her back and the puppy scrambled on top of her, licking her chin. Our daughter playfully pushed him back while Amerie studied them in the serious way she had sometimes.

“That’s why,” he said quietly before he brushed my ear with his lips absently.

My stomach decided it was a good time to let out a loud growl.

“Hungry, huh? I made a ton. I remembered how you loved your pancakes and figured we’d worked up a good appetite lastnight.” He tugged down the shoulder of his flannel nightshirt to kiss my collarbone. “And this morning.”

I turned in his arms. “We sure did, but man, I slept as if I was in a damn coma.”

“Orgasm as sedative puts a body to sleep best of all.” He whisked a fingertip under my eye. “You still look exhausted.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“As a rule, I don’t sleep all that much. But I slept great last night.” He hauled me against him, lifting me up so that I felt duty bound to scissor my legs back and forth as if he was kidnapping me. He was taking me to the kitchen, which was where I wanted to go, but that wasn’t the point.

I let the worries fall away and allowed myself to feel playful in a way I hadn’t in years.

No analysis needed there.

We ate pancakes, and I drank approximately a gallon of coffee before I went back for not only seconds of the pancakes, but thirds. Heavily drizzled with butter and syrup to boot. And then Travis found some blackberries in the crisper that needed to be eaten soon, so we feasted on those too, dipping them in whipped cream and honey—and then even maple syrup, which was a surprisingly delicious combo.

We were relaxing in our chairs, rubbing our bellies and groaning, when Biscuit ran through the room with Amerie and Carrington in hot pursuit. Biscuit was carrying something in his mouth I couldn’t make out. Then he flew over the table, knocking over glasses and plates, which luckily, were only paper. Silverware also went clattering before the puppy landed on the floor, legs sprawled in all directions.

Nimbly, he leaped to his feet and kept going, easily eluding the pursuing children, who chased him down the hall through the living room and then upstairs, screeching all the while.

The children, not the dog.

Biscuit, for his efforts, seemed to be having a fine time with whatever orange item he was currently toting like a prized possession. Then he reversed course and tumbled down the stairs he’d just raced up, going head over rump several times but reaching the bottom in one piece.

Thank God.

He gave Travis a dopey smile with his tongue lolling out just before Travis plucked the slipper out of the dog’s mouth and held it above his head like a trophy. “Biscuit, do not steal slippers. This is not yours. This is Carrington’s. You understand me?” His voice was supremely patient, and he never raised it once.

It was a damn miracle I didn’t swoon. He wassucha good daddy. How had I gotten so lucky?

“Dad, my slipper is gonna be full of dog slobber.”

“No, it won’t. You know why? Because I’m gonna toss it in the washer and get it all clean, so don’t worry.”

Amerie propped her hands on her hips just as Carrington liked to do. “Glad Biscuit didn’t takemyslipper.”

“Did you bring any over here?” Travis asked patiently.

“No. I wore sneakers.” She lifted her foot to demonstrate that fact. “I forgot to take them off in the house.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You’re fine. We’re not formal around here. But maybe we will have to be now?” He cast a look at me as if he expected me to institute some kind of footwear policy. That was not me in any way.

I waved a hand. “Nope. Shoes or not are good. Either way.” But I rose and looked around at the mess on the floor. “But where’s the trash bags? I’ll start cleaning up.”

“Mom, I can do it,” Carrington announced, rushing off and then returning with a large white trash bag. “Since Biscuit is my dog, it’s my job to clean up after him.”

“That’s right,” Travis said proudly, raising his brows at me as if he was as surprised by this turn of events as I was. “Have you let him out to pee yet? Or poop?”

“No, I thought we’d take him for a family walk. You know, as a family,” she said, enunciating carefully as she looked at her father and me and even Amerie in turn. “We can all go, right? Though, Mom, you need pants.”

“Very good point.” I rose and bit my lip. “I can wear yesterday’s outfit. All good. Not as if I got it dirty.”

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