Page 81 of The Nanny Goal

Fuck, I like that way too much.

“Her braids look good,” I say, moving closer again, my hand finding its way to the small of Emery’s back, just barely touching her—but it’s enough to feel her warmth radiating against my palm. “She sat still for you.”

“I told her if she won our game, I would braid her hair in victory.” She twists to the side, showing me that her own hair is braided the same way, matching French braids on either side of her head. She taps the end of the braid. “It’s the glitter clips. They’re only for champions.”

“Champion,” Inessa parrots, sailing into my leg with a proud and victorious hug.

I crouch down, resting my elbows on my knees. “You want to play with me next?”

“No goalie,” Inessa says solemnly.

And fair point—I could block the little cardboard box too easily. “No goalie,” I agree. “Just one-on-one.”

She finds Emery’s stick and shoves it at me. “Papa stick.”

Emery drops the ball for us at the face off point, and we have a fierce battle. Inessa gets the first goal, I get the second, and as soon as she scores again, she declares victory, tackling me to the ground.

“Papa juggle,” she says, waving the ball above my face.

I hold my hands up. “Okay, go.”

She drops it and I snatch it out of the air.

Giggle, she goes to find another one as I start to toss that one in a loop.

While she hunts for another ball, I look over at Emery and find her watching me out of the corner of her eye as she tidies around the stove.

I grin, and she blushes.

Remember when we first met, I want to ask her.Remember how we knew before we’d even said something that it would always be like this?

But then it wasn’t always like this.

Thishas only ever been a temporary gift the universe then takes away from me.

I’m going to appreciate the fuck out of it while she’s here, though.

“Papa, catch…”

I snap my attention back just in time to catch a second ball sailing through the air.

“Good reflexes,” Emery says.

I wink.

Inessa finds me a third ball, and then returns to sitting on me as I juggle for her.

“What did you make for dessert, by the way?” I ask Emery.

“Apple crisp. Two versions, one classic and one high protein, low sugar for hockey players two weeks away from playoffs.”

I snort. “Your brother isn’t making the playoffs.”

She laughs out loud. “Okay, fair. Then you have an entire tray of healthy crisp all to yourself. Don’t worry, it will freeze. Although your mom might like it. I need to see how it fits into her recommended nutrition plan.”

“Have you seen them yet today?”

“Briefly. Your dad came up to get Inessa for a Baba visit, and I got a shopping list from them for the fridge downstairs. I thought I’d run errands during nap time.”

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