Page 126 of Silent Ties

Not that I can complain about him hogging time with Sailor. The man with a stony, blank face disappears when she’s near him. Max is still the listener of the family, but there’s always this expression of pure peaceful joy when he’s with his daughter.

I draw the short end of the stick, carrying Sailor’s backpack and lunchbox and a handful of today’s art activities. Max strolls out, carrying Sailor on his hip and trying to hold my hand in the other.

“It’s okay,” I tell him as I juggle everything in my hands.

He hauls the backpack off my shoulder, placing it over his, and hands Sailor the drawings. “Hold that, okay.”

“Uh huh.” She studies her artwork.

Max takes my hand, leading us out to the car. The Porsche sports car is still around if hardly used, in favor of a black SUV. He must have already told Pavel to take my car back home.

He opens the door, expertly placing her into her car seat. The coat comes off and he tries to help her with the seatbelt.

“No, I’ve got it.” She latches it together, brown hair fallinginto her face. She’s a tad bit worse for wear. I have it on good authority from the teacher that she’s a rough-and-tumble type of kid during recess.

Max smooths her hair back, kissing her forehead and I melt as I watch from the front seat.

“Mom,” Sailor says, absentmindedly playing with the belt buckle until she finds a toy beside her. She shakes a miniature-sized doll in the air for no good reason. “Jane said there would be cupcakes in the kitchen when I get home.”

“Did she?” I ask of the housekeeper, trying not to laugh. Sugar in our household is not unheard of and Sailor has a worse sweet tooth than me.

“I would like one please,” she says as Max slides into the driver's seat. He glances back, not catching her words. She seizes the opportunity, sitting up as much as she can. “Daddy, can I please have a cupcake when I get home?”

Max is a stickler for manners. Sailor wields them to her advantage.

“After dinner, troublemaker.” The engine roars to life and he amps up the heater, fighting the chilly weather.

“What about a snack?” she asks, staring out the window.

“Carrots,” he replies.

She gasps, her little mouth open in disbelief.

I love her to the moon and back. I don’t care how cheesy or cliché it is.

“Are we going to see Grandpa tonight?”

“Not tonight,” I reply.

“Oh. What about Uncle Elijah?”

“Nope.”

“Roma?” she pouts.

“We’re going to be homebodies tonight,” I tell her. She’s a people person, and worse, she knows the Zimin men spoil her.

She makes a funny noise, waving the doll in the air. “Can I FaceTime Grandpa?”

“After dinner,” Max says.

“But I think he wants to talk to me now.”

Max remains focused on the stop-and-go traffic, but he takes my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“What did you learn today?” he asks Sailor.

She tells him what snacks she ate and who she played with.

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