Page 51 of Open Arms

“Only the best for you, kiddo.” I ruffled her hair gently, watching her tackle her dinner with gusto. Each of her stories was a gem, a little window into her world that she shared freely with me.

“Abby,” I ventured after a while, “did Chloe say anything to you? About not staying for dinner tonight?”

She chewed on a green bean, pondering. “Hmm, nope. But she did give me an extra cookie after school.”

“An extra cookie, huh?” I raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on my lips. “That sounds like bribery to me.”

“Maybe . . .” Abby tapped her chin theatrically, and then shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “I guess I’m just lovable.”

I practically snorted. This kid killed me sometimes. “Guess so,” I agreed, chuckling. The simplicity of our dinner, the chatter, her laughter—it was home in its purest form. And twomonths ago, it would have been all I wanted. But tonight, all I could think about was how one of us was missing. This right here was everything, and I knew now, deep in my bones, that I wanted Chloe to be a part of it. A part of us.

“Ready for the toothbrush tango, princess?”

“Race you!” she squealed, darting from the couch, up the stairs towards the bathroom.

“Hey, no head starts!” I called after her, my voice full of feigned shock. It was our little routine, and she cackled, knowing she’d won before we even began.

In the bathroom, the minty foam of toothpaste splattered the mirror as she brushed with more enthusiasm than technique. I steadied her hand, guiding it in gentle circles. “Gotta get those back teeth, bug.”

“Like this?” She opened wide, eyes crinkling with effort.

“Perfect.” My heart did that thing again, swelling to twice its size just watching her try so hard.

“Your turn, Daddy!”

“Alright, alright.” I took up my own brush, the extra one I kept in the hall bathroom for just this reason, and we made faces at each other in the mirror, our reflections like some funny father-daughter sitcom.

Pajama time was next. She chose the ones with horses galloping across a pink fabric prairie. Of course. Tucked in under her ‘galaxy’ sheets – because space was this month’s fascination—I planted that soft kiss on her forehead, lingering a moment longer in the quiet.

“Love you to the moon and back,” I whispered.

“An’ all the stars too,” she murmured, already halfway to dreamland.

“Every single one.” My voice was a mere breath as I flicked on the nightlight, casting shadows of dancing horses around the walls.

Once her breathing settled into the deep, even rhythms of sleep, I lingered in the doorway. Chloe’s earlier whisper echoed in my mind, pulling me toward something unknown but electric. I grabbed the old baby monitor from the top shelf in the closet, turning it on and seeing the video of Abby appear on the small screen.

“Always good to have a backup plan,” I muttered to myself.

The night air was cool, carrying the scent of wet earth. The gravel path crunched underfoot as I moved with purpose towards the cottage where Chloe waited.

The porch light spilled out, casting a warm glow on the path ahead. Every step felt charged, like the buildup before a storm, and I was ready to be caught in the rain.

The door opened before I reached it. Light pooled around Chloe’s silhouette, spilling from the cottage like a beacon guiding me through the encroaching night. There she was, framed by the wooden doorway, a picture of warmth and quiet strength.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried in the stillness between us.

“Well, hi, baby.” My boots thudded against the wooden steps, close enough now to see the way her eyes caught the light, glinting with something that made my heart skip a beat. My hands reached for her, grasping onto her hips with eager fingers. She tilted up to greet me, our lips colliding in a too-quick kiss.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Couldn’t stay away if I tried.” The words tumbled out, rawand honest. I leaned my forehead against hers. “Something about you draws me close.”

Her smile grew, a slow spread of lips that did funny things to my insides. “I missed you.” Her confession was so hushed it might have been carried away on the wind, but it imprinted itself on me, fierce and indelible.

“Missed you too,” I admitted, feeling the weight of those words settle into the space between us, heavy and charged with promise. It was like stating the obvious—the sky is blue, the grass is green, and I’m drawn to Chloe Beecham like a moth to flame. “More than I thought possible.” The admission felt like a risk, but one look at her, bathed in the glow of her cottage light, made it clear it was a risk worth taking.

The space between us was electric, charged with every unspoken word and longing glance we’d traded over the past weeks. She pulled me inside and closed the door behind us. I grabbed her again, drawn in by the pull of her blue eyes, the kind that could light up the darkest of nights.

---