Page 63 of Open Arms

“Abby, watch your fingers,” I called out, as our impromptu sous-chef took on a ball of fresh mozzarella with gusto, her concentration almost comical.

“Like this, Daddy?” Abby asked, her little tongue poking out in focus.

“Exactly like that, munchkin. You’re a natural.” My chestswelled with pride watching her mimic Chloe’s earlier demonstration.

“Can’t be outdone by the grown-ups,” Chloe teased, ruffling Abby’s curls.

“Never,” Abby declared, brandishing her plastic knife like a sword before returning to her task with renewed vigor.

“Alright, team,” I said, surveying our combined efforts, “time to set the stage for the feast.”

“Can I help?” Abby bounced on her toes, eager.

“Sure thing, deputy,” I replied, lifting her onto my hip as we ventured into the living room. It was smaller than the dining area, but it felt right for tonight—intimate, cozy. The coffee table was nothing fancy, just sturdy wood with enough character to tell a thousand stories. I spread out a checkered tablecloth, smoothing out the wrinkles with a swipe of my hand.

“Plates here, Abby,” I instructed, handing her the stack with a wink.

“Got it!” She placed each one down with care, her tongue peeking out again, mirroring how seriously she was taking the task.

“Chloe, you think you can wrangle the napkins?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, but damn, every time I looked at her, it felt like my heart skipped a beat.

“On it.” She called from the kitchen.

After piling our individual pizzas with our chosen toppings, I slid them into the oven to bake and let the aroma fill the house. Ten minutes later, I pulled them out and set them each on an oversized tray, cutting them into perfect slices.

The couch was our dining throne, cushions dipping under our weight as we settled in. Abby had claimed a fortress of pillows at our feet, plate balanced on her knees as she giggled at the animated antics on screen. I glanced over to Chloe,her profile lit by the soft glow of the TV, and felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the food.

“Best dinner ever,” Abby declared, eyes glued to the colorful images flickering before her.

“Think so?” I asked, my voice low enough not to disturb the movie magic.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, mouth full of pepperoni and olive pizza she’d made.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re supposed to talk with your mouth full,” Chloe chided gently, but there was laughter dancing in her voice, a sound that sent ripples through me.

“Sorry, Chlo.”

I saw Chloe sneak a quick smile at Abby, one that told me she was already part of this family in ways she might not even realize yet.

I finished my last slice, relishing in the ingredients I’d only used because Chloe suggested them. Fresh tomato, sausage, peppers, and lots of parmesan. I’d never had that combo before, but it was Heaven on my tongue. “You’re a natural in the kitchen, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Chloe admitted with a laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, Dad, look!” Abby pointed at the screen where the protagonist narrowly escaped a hilarious calamity, her chuckle infecting us until we were all laughing.

“Didn’t see that coming,” I said between bursts of laughter, but my gaze wasn’t on the TV. It was on Chloe, watching how her nose scrunched up when she laughed, the way her blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears of mirth. She was beautiful, yeah, but it was these moments, these uninhibited peals of laughter, that made me feel like the luckiest man alive.

“Your laugh,” I said softly, almost to myself, “it’s . . . contagious.”

“Hmm?” She turned to me, her expression curious, those same eyes still shining.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, but my grin betrayed me. “Just thinking about how much I love hearing you laugh.”

“Keep being funny, then,” she teased, nudging me with her shoulder, a light touch that sent electricity down my spine.

“Challenge accepted,” I whispered back, my heart thumping against my chest. I stole another glance at her, each more daring than the last, memorizing the way she smiled, the flecks of silver in her eyes, the little freckles along her chin that you could barely see unless you were this close.

Eventually the credits rolled, the room filled with the soft glow of the TV screen casting shadows across Abby’s snoozing figure. She was sprawled out on her colorful fortress of pillows, a serene expression on her face, chest rising and falling rhythmically in slumber.

---