Page 12 of Sunshine
“You know, if I let it grow a little longer,” I say, “it’ll soften up, and you might like it.”
Charlie snorts quietly while Izzy’s little nose wrinkles with disgust.
“That doesn’t sound good,” she decides.
It takes effort to keep a straight face. She’s adorable when she takes things so seriously. “It doesn’t?”
“No. It sounds terrible.”
“Understood. Thanks, Iz.”
Izzy’s earnest brown eyes trace my face before they snag on something in my hair, and then she plants her fists on her hips and hits me with a fierce scowl. It’s even cuter than her stern face, and these little flares of spirit fill me with a weird sense of pride and comfort. The world can be tough for girls, but if anyone can take it on, it’ll be my Izzy.
“What is that on your head?” she demands with a furious stomp of her foot.
She stretches up on her toes, and I oblige her wordless request by leaning down to give her a better look at the purple scrunchie holding back the top half of my hair. It was all I could find in my rush to get out of the house this morning, and I can’t work in the kitchen without it.
“Hey!” She jumps up to swipe at it, but I weave out of her way. “I was looking for that.”
“You don’t need it,” I argue. “Your hair looks perfect like this.” I give one of her long, coffee-colored curls a gentle tug, the shine dulled by frizz from the winter drizzle outside, then slide my hands under her arms and set her on her chair.
“That’s enough conversation about how I look, okay? Uncle Finn will be here at eight to take you to school, and I invited Poppy to join us before that, so it’s time to focus on your breakfast.”
Izzy’s eyes light up as I tuck a napkin into the collar of her favorite unicorn sweater and then place a fork in her fist. “Poppy’s coming this morning? Is she bringing her big bag?”
Her big bag?“Uh, I don’t know, but today is her first day as your new nanny, so I want us to spend a few minutes talking about what that means. Is that okay?”
Izzy shovels a big bite of egg into her mouth and answers me around a wide grin. “Yes!”
I tweak her nose, relieved that she’s so enthusiastic about this nanny idea and a little ashamed that I wasn’t open-minded about it in the first place. I wonder if there’ll ever be a time I don’t second-guess my parenting decisions. “Good. Now eat up.”
I pull out another chair and give my sister an expectant look. “How about it, Charlie? Eggs? Pancakes? Granola? I can fix you anything. It’ll only take a minute.”
Like she does every morning, Charlie declines with a shake of her head. “Thanks, but I don’t have time. I’ll go past the kitchen and grab something to eat in my office.”
“No problem. And thanks for getting Izzy ready for school one last time. I appreciate it.”
Charlie runs an affectionate hand over the back of Izzy’s bent head. “It’s never any trouble. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks.” I take a seat and pick up my cutlery. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”
“Ah, Dylan?” Charlie lifts her chin, indicating she wants to talk to me away from curious ears. “Do you have a minute?”
Concern pinches between my ribs. “Sure. Uh. Hey, Iz? I need to have a quick talk with Aunt Charlie. Can you keep yourself busy for a few minutes?”
She shrugs easily, already reaching for her activities. “Okay.”
I usher Charlie a few steps to the side as Izzy chooses a book from her collection of busy work, opens it to the dog-eared page two-thirds of the way through, and sets it open on the table in front of her. We’ve shared countless breakfasts, lunches, and dinners at this table while I darted back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. Making sure Izzy eats well and with me, even if our meals together are often disrupted, is a father-daughter bond that means everything.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Charlie takes another couple of steps away, looking toward my little girl with a crease between her dark brows, and that pinch of worry between my ribs grabs a little tighter.
“It’s probably nothing,” Charlie begins, “but Izzy didn’t want to go to school this morning.”
I glance at Izzy, engrossed in her book and absently nibbling on a slice of toast. “What do you mean? She’s here. She looks happy. And Izzy loves school.”
Charlie raises her hands like she’s not sure what to say, then lets them fall. “She didn’t want to get out of bed—said it was too cold. Didn’t want to get dressed—said she had an upset stomach. Didn’t want to brush her hair or her teeth—said she was tired. Didn’t want to walk over here from the house—said her legs were too sore.”
