Page 120 of Wicked Minds
“Alright, there’s the Firefighter, the spotty one. What’s his name?”
“Mars-all,” Aurora states in aduhtone that makes me chuckle and Logan grin.
“Yes, that’s the one. Really, Riley, how could you forget Marshall?”
I shake my head, feigning bafflement. “I have no idea. Silly me.”
Aurora’s laughter tinkles between us as we walk together down the sidewalk, Logan coaxing the names of each Paw Patrol member from her with ease. He’s such a natural with kids. I remember him saying he has a bunch of nieces and nephews, so he’s probably spent a lot of time around children. Somehow Ibet, even if he hadn’t, he’d still be a natural. He just has that type of personality.
By the time we make it to the diner, he and Aurora are cackling over their favorite Paw Patrol adventures, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve died and gone to heaven because this feels too good to be true.
Aurora picks out a booth by one of the large windows that looks onto the street, and she and I slide into one side, Logan opposite.
I thank the waitress when she delivers crayons and a coloring book along with menus, and Aurora squeals in delight before diving into covering the page in pink crayon, not even trying to stay within the lines.
Logan finds the entire thing hilarious, and I don’t realize how big my smile is until he points it out. “You look beautiful when you smile like that.”
And now I’m blushing.
“Doesn’t Mommy look beautiful when she smiles?” he directs to Aurora, and I love how he includes her.
“Mommy always looks pretty.”
“Facts,” Logan agrees with a grin.
Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, I ask Aurora, “Sweetheart, what do you want to eat?”
“Ice cream.”
“Yes, but do you need proper food? What have you eaten today?”
“Mrs. Garcia gave me powidge for beakfast.” The way her nose wrinkles says everything about what she thought of that. Logan laughs while I simmer over the fact the neighbor fed my daughter instead of my mother.
When the waitress returns, I order actual food for Aurora plus lunch for myself, and Logan places his order, tacking on ice cream sundaes for all three of us.
The chatter and clinking of dishes is background noise to Aurora’s light and vibrant giggles and Logan’s voice as he regales her with stories of the antics his nieces and nephews have gotten up to while the two of them work together to eliminate every bit of white on the page until it’s a mishmash of differing colored areas.
“Mac ’n’ cheese for the little one,” the waitress says with a smile when she returns with our food, setting a bright yellow bowl in front of Aurora, a club sandwich in front of me, and a burger and fries in front of Logan.
The conversation moves on to their favorite television shows, and I barely contribute anything to the conversation, too busy soaking up every second of the two of them laughing and getting on like idiots.
I pull my phone out to snap a few pictures of them, wanting to memorialize this moment so I can bring it out when I’m having a bad day and missing Aurora.
My attention is drawn back to the table when my daughter shrieks with laughter, and I snort when I notice Logan has smeared ketchup along his upper lip. I decide he’s maturely closer to Aurora’s age than mine, but we both burst out laughing when he acts like he has no idea what Aurora is talking about when she tries to point it out to him.
“It’s there!” she exclaims, pointing at his face.
“Where? Here?” Logan points to his ear, swiping his finger along it and shrugging when it comes away ketchup-free.
“No, silly. There!” Her little body is practically sprawled across the table as she reaches for his face. I’ve already had to make a last-minute dash to save the mac ’n’ cheese bowl from clattering to the floor.
“Ice cream!” Aurora squeals, getting distracted when the waitress returns with our ice creams, removing our empty plates.
By the time we’re done, I’m full, Aurora is half asleep on my knee, and Logan has swapped his ketchup mustache for a chocolate one.
“You’ve been so good with her,” I say quietly across the table, one hand stroking through my daughter’s hair as she snuggles her face deeper into my side.
“She’s amazing,” he responds, his voice filled with awe as he watches her. Lifting his eyes to mine, he says, “You’ve done such an incredible job raising her.”
