Page 105 of Rules in Love
Apparently, Saturday was waffle day in his house, and as Finn, Iris, and I sat and ate our Nutella, strawberry, and cream-covered breakfasts, I had a brilliant idea—well, I thought it was brilliant. Finn, maybe not so much. “Guys, since you have some things to do, how would you feel if I took Iris out for a girl’s day—well, morning, actually? I am supposed to be getting my hair cut at ten. Maybe Iris could come with me, and we can get our hair and nails done, do a bit of shopping, do a bit of lunching. What do you think?” Iris was up out of her chair, doing a happy dance, but Finn’s eyebrows twitched suspiciously. “What’s that look? Good idea? Bad idea?”
“No, no, it’s a good idea. Great idea. I just… I don’t know.”
“Daaadddyyyy. Pllleeeaasseeeee.”
“Iris, don’t moan,” he grumped.
She slumped in her chair and flopped lifelessly side to side while not moaning. “I am not mmooaanniinnggg.”
“Bubs, Scarlett has been with us since Wednesday. Maybe she needs a little time to herself?”
“No, really, I mean it. That’s why I offered. I would love to take Iris. Ben has no interest in doing this stuff with me. It would be fun. But you are the boss, Finn, and it’s completely up to you.”
We then stared him down, and when Iris fell to the ground and took up a kneeled praying position, Finn rolled his eyes and conceded. “Fine. You win. But Iris, no toys, no shoes, no crap. I think you’ve been spoiled enough lately. Got it?
“Got it, Daddy.” She smiled like butter wouldn’t melt.
She hadn’t gotten it at all. I knew it. Finn knew it. So he turned to me, eyeing me with a steely determination softened by the hint of a side smirk. “That means you too, missy. No letting this little devil fool you into buying everything she wants.”
“Got it, Daddy,” I purred.
A fire I was all too familiar with lit in Finn’s eyes, and his bottom lip disappeared beneath his teeth. His thoughts and intentions were clear, but cute little fingers grabbed mine and pulled me away. We winners then happily danced around the grimacing, horny loser.
Finn
Iwas on the edge—literally and figuratively. Perched on the edge of Iris’s bed, I picked up the stray parts of Mr. Potato Head that littered the floor while listening to the lengthy recount of her big girl’s day.
“Scaw and I both had ouw haiw washed next to each othew, and they wubbed my head, Daddy. It felt all wawm, and tickly, and nice. When Scaw’s haiw was done, we went to the nail lady and picked the same nail colouw, and we didn’t even mean it. And then…” It went on and on, and it was gorgeous. She was so excited and happy, beaming. But then her face changed, and her voice filled with hope, fear, and sorrow mixed into an innocent, heart-breaking tone I’d never heard before.
“Daddy.”
“Yes, bubs.”
“Is it okay if I want Scaw to be my mummy?”
The potato hit the deck. “What?” It may have been dark,and she may have been seven, but I’m sure she rolled her eyes.
“Is. It. Okay. If. I. Want. Scaw. To—”
“I… I heard you, bubs. I’m just surprised. You have a mummy already, Iris. Shelby is your mum.”
“Yes, but she lives in Heaven, Daddy, and I don’t even know hew. I know Scaw, and I weally like hew, and I think she likes me too.” She looked at me through her curls. “Do you think she likes me, Daddy?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and resumed the potato reconstruction as though my heart had not just been mashed into a bloody pulp. “Yes, I do. I think she likes you a lot.”
“Wight, and you love hew. And when people love each othew, they get mawwied. So, if you mawwy Scaw, she would be my mummy, wight?”
“Well, kind of. She would be your step-mum.”
“But I could call hew Mum? Oh! And Bunny would be my bwothew.”
“Technically, I guess. But I think—”
“Okay, then. So, you mawwy Scaw, and then I can have a weal Mummy and bwothew.” She then yawned, sat up, kissed my cheek, and snuggled back under her quilt. “Goodnight, Daddy.”
This kid’s brutal.
Picturing an imaginary pink and glittery dagger lodged firmly into my bloody, mashed pulp of a heart, I slunk from the room and left my innocent savage to sleep.
