Page 41 of Taste Of You

Epilogue #2

Two Years Later…

“What are you doing, Lily?” I ask, coming inside with a manila folder in my hand. It’s the paperwork we’ve been waiting for, and I’m dying to share the news, but I’m distracted by my daughter crouching on the ground and peeking around the corner of the couch.

She’s watching something. Being sneaky.

“Shhhhh,” she exaggerates with a hint of four-year-old attitude. “Don’t wanna be found.”

The twos were not the problem in our home, not one bit. It’s now. Her sassiness can be both adorable, and a problem.

Like the time her Pre-K teacher forgot to get the class crayons for an assignment, and my daughter snapped her fingers and told her to do her job. Like I said, cute, but when she gives you the you’re so stupid look or explains that you’re doing something wrong, it makes you want to send her to a corner.

Millie says she’s the spitting image of Natasha, her sister. A know-it-all.

Which also means that timeouts are king in this house. Checks her mini-diva personality.

“Watch it, kid, or you’re going upstairs.”

She looks back at me, eyes wide and lip pouting. “But this is important.”

“What are you doing, baby girl?” Looking in the direction she’s watching, I realize what she is doing. “Are you seriously trying to get a peek at your birthday gift? I’m telling Mommy.”

“No!” she shrieks, giving her position away.

“Lily.” Millie walks over with a scowl, hand over her chest. “What did Sandy tell you a few minutes ago? What have I been telling you all day?”

“To be patient.” Jesus, that petulant sulk is cute. Almost makes me cave, tell Camille to hand whatever she wants over, but then my wife flicks her eyes to mine and I know better.

I’m a sucker. The good parent.

Millie isn’t amused by this one bit.

“Where’s Jackson, babe?”

She knows I’m changing the subject and shakes her head. “Watching that sponge. Same episode for the fiftieth time, too.” Walking over, she leans up and kisses my cheek and then lips. Before she can move away, I have both arms around her waist and the envelope falls. It lands on the floor with a soft thud, and we both freeze. “Is that?”

“Daddy you dropped something,” Lily walks over and picks it up. She has no idea what’s inside, and while I never want her to think she’s not my daughter, Millie and I always want to be truthful with her.

She’s aware of her mother’s passing, along with Nana and Pop-Pop. That they are in heaven and watch over us all.

Lily has two moms, and me. I’m her father, just like I am Jackson’s.

Not a lick of difference to me.

“Why don’t we take a seat, bug,” Millie holds out a hand for her, and as if sensing that this is serious, she takes it, looking back at me every few seconds as we walk into the family room where Jack is watching his toons.

We find him asleep with his binky almost out of his mouth. His ever-present blankie covers him, just leaving a small portion of his head out while he drools.

And yeah, I’m the kind of father that takes a picture of that. It’s both adorable, and will serve as ammunition if the case arises.

“Babe.”

“Let me have my fun, woman.” Grabbing my little girl, I stick my tongue out at her mother and toss her in the air. Lily’s giggles ring out, and she smiles—the apprehension leaving her face. Two more tosses, and I sit down placing Lily between us.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Should you be? Better yet, don’t answer that.”

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