The only reason he’d ask for a sleepover was if he really needed her.
Some people got emotional support dogs. Rhett escaped by hanging out with my kid, taking her to Disney or the movies or for Putt-Putt—a place where he could be a kid, bringing him back to a time when his life had been much easier.
“I’m cool with that.”
“I’ll see you when you get to the office,” he said and hung up.
Once I got through Jana’s gate, I parked in the driveway and used my code to get in through the garage. We had an unwritten rule that when we came to each other’s house for anything related to Daisy and the other person was waiting and expecting our arrival, we let ourselves in. Any exceptions to that unwritten rule, we rang the doorbell.
I made my way inside, through the laundry room and living room, hearing the girls in the kitchen. When there was a second of lull in the chatter, I said, “Where’s my baby?”
I was just passing the couch, so neither of them could see me yet.
But I heard, “Daddy,” along with the pattering of bare feet on the hardwood floor.
Daisy’s greeting hadn’t changed since she had been big enough and capable of running into my arms. One day, I knew I wouldn’t get that kind of entrance, and my heart wasn’t ready for it.
This morning, what came darting at me was a blur of pink and curls—an outfit and hairstyle I was sure had been changed multiple times before settling on this one since both were so important to my daughter.
“There she is. Don’t you look beautiful?” I lifted her into the air, holding her against my chest, hugging her little body against mine. “I missed you, baby.”
“Missed you, Daddy.” She giggled. “Daddy, the scruffies. Owie.”
My lips left her cheek, giving her skin a break from my beard. “Did you have a good weekend with Mommy?” I carried her into the kitchen, where Jana was sipping from a large cup of coffee.
“Yes!” Daisy sang. “We played with puppies!”
I eyed Jana, who knew taking our daughter to play with dogs would result in one thing. “You did, did you?”
“Golden ones, Daddy. With big paws. Paws the size of my hand. And I got licks—on the face! They were wet and slimy, and Ilooovedthem!”
Jana was laughing.
We’d talked about getting a dog, but not until Daisy was old enough to be fully responsible for the animal. With Jana’s job constantly taking her out of town, I would end up caring for the pup a majority of the time. Even though I wanted a dog and Daisy did, too, I didn’t need to care for anything aside from my little one.
“Playing with fire, I see,” I said to Jana.
Jana took another sip and crossed her arms, showing off her full sleeve of daisy tattoos. “Daisy, why don’t you tell your father why we were playing with the puppies?”
Daisy’s hand went to my beard, combing through my whiskers. “I volunteered, Daddy, ’cause the doggies needed me. I scooped poop! And one of the doggies peed on my leg. She didn’t mean to, and she was very sorry, but she chewed on my fingers, so I don’t think she wasreallysorry.” She let out a long, loud giggle.
“One of my clients just opened a rescue center and needed a few extra hands,” Jana explained. “I thought it would be a good opportunity for Daisy to learn about giving back.”
I gave Jana a nod, showing my approval. “That was really nice of you to help with the dogs, baby.” I kissed the side of her hair. “How many puppies were there?”
“Six! They were so cute and little, and their tails looked like those hot dogs you sometimes make me with barbeque sauce.”
I smiled. “So, Mom put you to work. I like it.”
Daisy leaned into my ear and whispered, “Mommy told me no doggies when it was time to go home. ’Cause I wanted to bring them all home, Daddy. And I cried forever and ever.”
I rubbed my hand across her back. “Sounds like Mommy laid down the law.” I winked at Jana, appreciating that she’d done the heavy lifting on this one.
“Meanie.” Daisy pouted.
“Maybe in a couple of years, mean Mommy will change her mind.”
Jana scrunched her face, a look that defined her new nickname. “Mommy would have happily adopted the Saint Bernard that was available. Maybe I should rethink that plan and?—”