Page 89 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“But…but…breakfast.”

“We’llmake breakfast. Omelets and bacon—how’s that sound?”

I can imagine Kyrie wiggling her lips back and forth, thinking it over. “Deal.”

I know they shake on it before retreating down the hall.

I glance toward the alarm clock beside my bed and am surprised as fuck to see it’s past nine already.

I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I peel myself out of my comfortable bed and head for the adjoining bathroom.

I take the world’s hottest shower, trying to wash away the hangover and not think about Dory and what it would have felt like to stay with her last night. My bed felt so empty and cold the entire night. I could have used someone to warm it.

I could have used her.

Dressed in sweats and a tee that readscode-blooded, because there is no way I’ll be leaving the house today, I make my way into the kitchen.

When I round the corner, my heart warms at the scene before me.

Both girls have aprons slung around their bodies that readI’m just here for the food,and they’re bobbing their heads along to the music floating out of the smart speaker I have set up in here.

I lean against the entryway, watching them.

They look like they’re having so much fun and I almost feel bad for interrupting them, but if I don’t have coffee in the next minute, my head might explode.

Like she can feel me watching her hips sway, Dory turns her head toward me.

Her eyes widen for a moment, then she smiles brightly, hips still swaying.

“Good morning.”

“Dad!” Kyrie spots me and jumps down from her step stool, running over and jumping into my arms.

I hug her tightly. “What’s this for? I thought you didn’t even like me anymore with the way you wanted to run off to Uncle Foster’s yesterday.”

“I like you. I just like Uncle Foster a little bit more.”

“What the…” I tickle her and she giggles, wiggling in my arms. I don’t even care about my screaming headache right now. Her laughter is worth all the pain. “What do you meanmore?”

“He…buys me…teatime dresses,” she says breathlessly, the words broken up by gasps. “Dad! Stop it!”

“No way,” I argue, continuing my assault. “Not until you say you like me most. I buy you dresses too, you little shithead.”

She laughs and laughs, wiggling around like a fish out of water.

“You stepped in it now,” Dory says to Kyrie, grinning at us.

“Fine, fine. I take it back. I like…” Kyrie can hardly breathe now, and I relent in my tickle attack just a little so she can recover. “I like Dory the most!”

She uses the moment to her advantage, darting across the kitchen and into Dory’s arms.

“Why do you like me most? I don’t buy you dresses.”

“Because you take me to the beach and let me have ice cream every single day.”

“Every day, huh?” I say, moving across the kitchen to the coffee pot.

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