Page 14 of Bourbon and Secrets

She rolls her eyes. She’s gotten really good at being nine. “You have the better bathtub, duh.”

I smile at her. “Bought you some new bath bombs.”

Her eyes light up as they meet mine in the mirror. “You did, where?!”

“Just added them to the shelf.” I nod to the corner. It’s not hard for me to lean into being a girl-dad. If bath bombs get me smiles like that, then I’ll gladly buy as many as they want until they move onto the next obsession. My girls have had enough tears and felt enough sadness in their short lifetime. They deserve better than what they’ve been given.

I make my way into my walk-in and pluck a pair of jeans for tonight.

“Cozy vanilla cream and sparkling razzleberry. Dad, razzleberry isn’t an actual fruit, right?”

I’m fingering through my shirts when she finds me.

“Don’t think so, Lil,” I shout from the closet.

“It doesn’t say it’s a real fruit.” She holds up my phone to show me the search. “Oh, you got a text. Uncle Ace says he’s drinking with a few assholes at Midnight Proof.” Her eyes widen, lips rolling inward, realizing what she just said. “I’m just the messenger.”

With a quirked eyebrow, I hold out my hand for my phone. “Don’t read my texts, please. You should owe the curse purse.”

“Technically, Uncle Ace owes.”

I put my glasses on and look at the screen. “Lily, my phone has a passcode.”

With a nod, she smiles up at me. “I know my birthdate, Dad.”

How am I not supposed to laugh and applaud that? But I keep my dad hat on for a couple more minutes. “How did you know it was your birthday and not Lark’s?”

She walks to the back of the closet and stands on the small stool, reaching for the row of darker dress shirts. “You use Lark’s birthday for your computer password. And your birthday for the passcode on all the doors.”

“Seriously?” I deadpan.

“Here! Wear this one.” She hands me a black dress shirt, then hops off the stool. “You look the most handsome when you wear this one.”

“Stay off my electronics, kiddo,” I call out after her.

When I come down the stairs, Lark is sprawled out on the couch, roaming through Netflix. I do a double-take because my eleven-year-old looks more like a teenager every day—braids and dresses exchanged for sports t-shirts, high socks, and lip gloss. It honestly makes the center of my chest ache.

“Lark, you’re going to hate the next few words out of my mouth, but I’m going to say them, anyway.” I look at the clock. Grant will be here any minute. “You need to watch something that your sister is going to like, too.”

“C’mon, Daaad,” she groans. “Why do I have to? Lily isn’t even in here right now.” Sitting up quickly, she glares at me as I move toward the kitchen.

I take out the ice cream tub and two bowls as my oldest gives me a look of death. I thought this wasn’t coming for another few years, but Lark is on the cusp of turning twelve, and my sweet girl is quickly turning into a fire-breathing dragon of chaotic emotions. She also refuses to laugh at any of my jokes anymore. It’s an eye roll, or a huff, or, my favorite, being ignored.

“So did you decide what you want to do for your birthday this year?” I hold my breath, waiting and hoping she just says hanging out with a couple of friends.

“Spa party sleepover, just with some of the girls from my softball team, and maybe a few from my class last year. A few from this year, too. Maybe.”

Thank fucking goodness.A few friends I can handle. “Okay, who’s planning this spa party sleepover?”

She smiles at me, but it’s one of mischief. One that tells me I don’t know what I’m in for before she even responds. “Maybe Auntie Hadley can help you?”

Shit.I give her the side-eye and grab two spoons and hold one out for her. Raising my eyebrows, I make circles in the air with it. “What does that mean, ‘help me?’ You’re going to have to break down what this is going to look like. And how many people are we talking about?”

“Like, fifteen or so.” She glances up at the look of sheer horror I’m trying to mask.

But I’m already shaking my head.

She follows it up with, “That’s not that many, Dad. And we probably won’t even sleep. And maybe things like doing face masks and making our own lip balm.”

---