Page 142 of Mr. Aster
“Very well,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender.
I nodded and swiveled on my heel, taking the steps two at a time to get upstairs and get everything situated with Charlotte and Callie.
“Are you ready?” I asked Charlotte once we were boarded on the jet.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her blue irises lit with excitement. “Disneyland?”
“Is it your birthday?” I smirked at her.
“No, Daddy,” she frowned. “We can go when it’s not my birthday, too.”
She pouted, and I exhaled in fake annoyance.
“We could go every day if we wanted to,” I arched an eyebrow at her, “but then it wouldn’t be special, like when we went to Disney in Paris for your third birthday.”
“Fine,” she said, pushing out her bottom lip. “Can I go sit with Callie?”
I was grateful that Charlotte and I had become bonded more than my own father had ever been with me or my brothers, but these struggles were tiresome. Callie had told me more than once that this was typical behavior for her age. She’d just finished up with herterrible twos,but in my estimation, this three-year-old backtalking, pouty stage was more taxing. The manipulative shit always tugged on my heartstrings until the nanny caught on and informed me that I was being played by a toddler.
Now, it was clear as day when my daughter used her adorable poutiness to get her way with me. I didn’t want Darcy to thinkI was an idiot of a father, so I needed to try my hardest not to fallfor little Char’s tactics and stay tight on my game. If I could put captains of industry in their respective places worldwide, I should be able to manage my three-year-old daughter as well.
“Please, Daddy?” Charlotte asked again.
“Why don’t we allow Callie to take a break while we’re flying?”
She folded her arms together across her chest and attempted to glare at me.
“Are youmadat me?” I asked, trying not to smile—another parenting skill I learned was crucial when holding your own against a three-year-old.
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
“Yes.”
“So, now we’re back to one-word sentences again?”
She shrugged and looked out the window.
“Char?” I said, knowing she favored her nickname over her full name, which always reminded me of Darcy.
She ignored me.
“Charlotte?” I said in a deeper tone to keep my status in the pecking order between us, something that was not easy for me to do at times.
“Yes?”
She looked back at me, and I loved that these small moments brought about amusing memories of her mother. They were subtle things that made me recall the better times with Melissa, making me thankful for the lessons I learned from being married to a woman like her. Instead of looking back and thinking I’d wasted so many years being unhappily married, there were things I knewnowabout love and relationships that helped me appreciate the feelings I’d developed for Darcy.
“Mr. Aster,” Becky, the flight attendant, brought my attention to her. “While I am preparing dinner, perhaps Miss Charlotte would like to join the captain and his first officer in the cockpit as she usually does?”
“Yes! Thank you, Becky,” Charlotte boomed with excitement, ready to tear out of her seat to get her way with something.
This was her favorite part of being on the jet because the captain and his crew spoiled the hell out of her, but I couldn’t let this behavior stand.
“Not at this time,” I said, arching an eyebrow of reproach at Charlotte,damn proudof myself for holding firm in the face of breaking my daughter’s heart today. “When Charlotte’s behavior improves, I’ll reconsider her joining the crew in the cockpit.”
“Ugh,” Charlotte groaned, prompting Becky to look away so Charlotte couldn’t see her smile.
