Page 165 of Changing Rules

She glances over her shoulder, eyes blazing with heat. Then she shakes her head. “No matter how tempting it sounds, I think you should continue with our breakfast. Our daughter will be up soon.”

“Fine. I forgive you—fornow.” I point a spatula at her, making her giggle. “But I won’t forget.”

“I’m counting on it.” She pulls plates from the cabinet and sets the table, then refills Milo’s water bowl.

“Were you talking to Lou this morning?” I ask, setting my first pancake on the plate.

She hums. “Kelly loved the nursery design we came up with for baby number two, and we’ve found just about everything except the damned wallpaper.” A small smile forms on her lips. “Lou called me to say she finally found it.”

I stack another pancake on the plate. “That’s great.”

“It’s a relief. Once that’s up, we can put the room together and move on to our next project.”

“Colton and Ava’s kitchen?” I shake my head. “Who would’ve thought I’d get along so well with the center from the Thunders? I’ve never even been into hockey.”

“You’re missing out.” She winks at me. “You guys get along almost as well as Isla and their little boy.”

The sound of tiny feet on bare floors echoes down the hall, along with the clicking of nails. Then Isla appears, her dark hair tangled and her face creased with sleep, Milo on her heels. Bella pushes herself from the kitchen counter and catches our daughter in her arms.

“There you are, sweetie. How did you sleep?”

At the sight of them, warmth surges through my veins. The love I have for them is immense and irrevocable.

When the pancakes are ready, I scoop Isla up and drag her plate next to mine. Bella is a stickler for routine, but my girl hates her high chair, so I usually give in.

Unsurprisingly, Bella glares at me.

“What?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“What is this contraption?” Bella points at the high chair.

“A chair for kids,” I say.

She huffs triumphantly, like she thinks she’ll win this argument.

“And also a prison.”

“Unbelievable.” She presses her palms to her face. “It’s a high chair designed specifically for children. She’sachild. It’s a chair forher.”

“Babe,” I say, using the edge of my fork to cut a pancake into bite-sized pieces, “when I’m not around, you can put her in that chair. I won’t say a word.” I kiss my little girl’s head, soaking in the scent of her baby shampoo. “When I’m here, she can sit with us. End of story.”

Eyes narrowed, Bella picks up her coffee. I know that look well; the comeback is forming in her head. And a moment later, she breaks into a radiant smile, one elbow propped on the table.

“Okay, then next week, when we’re in Cancún, I won’t ask for a high chair. We don’t need one, right? She can always sit on her dad’s lap.”

I frown at her. Our friends are all coming with us. I can’t imagine sitting down toeverymeal with my daughter on my lap.

“You sound a little jealous.” I lean over, voice lowered. “You can always sit on my lap too.”

Her jaw drops, and she hauls herself to her feet, taking her plate and her cup with her. “I’m done with you.” Veering left, she stomps out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Isla and Milo. She should know by now that when it comes to banter, I always win.

“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy will always be there for you.” I kiss Isla’s cheek. “Who do you love most?”

She peers up at me, her big, deep blue eyes focused on my face. She has the same little upturned nose, full lips, and dark hair as her mom. She’s as beautiful as Bella, and that terrifies me. I won’t let any boy close to her until she’s sixteen, or eighteen, or better yet, twenty-one.

Yeah, twenty-one definitely sounds better.

“Daddy,” she says, continuing to chew on her pancake.

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