Page 14 of Six of Hearts
"I know that to be true and I haven't even seen them yet." I pulled them out and was smacked in the face with how adorable Mila looked standing on a pointed toe in her pink tutu.
"Oh my god.”
"I know!" Aria screeched, and Mila, who had legitimately drifted off standing up, popped awake. Aria pet her head gently.
"Oh, sorry, baby.”
I set the envelope down on one of the tables, and then picked Mila up. Her head dropped against my shoulder, and I could hear her snoozing in my ear a moment later. I looked at Aria with pleading eyes.
"I'm just gonna tuck her into bed. We'll have to have a big breakfast in the morning to make up for a missed dinner. Would you mind waiting a few minutes?" I asked. I saw Aria's eyes quickly dart to the clock on the wall, her mouth pursing to protest, but I cut in before she could.
"Please. I just want to hear more about what I've been missing the past week and a half."
Aria nodded with a smile, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you. I'll be right back. Please, make yourself at home in the kitchen. There's a pot of spaghetti. I'll be quick."
Aria shook her head. "Take your time. I'll be here."
I smiled at Aria. It was nice having a caring woman around the house again. The thought caught me off guard—I hadn't realised how much I'd missed that particular kind of companionship until Aria had walked into our lives. “Thanks."
I took Mila upstairs to her bedroom and tucked her into her princess bed.
She had an affinity for flash and fanciness, a girl after my own heart, and her room was drenched in all the magic of a Disney princess.
She was already passed out before we got to the top of the stairs, so tucking her in was quick and easy. I put on some music, because she hated sleeping in silence, and then made my way back downstairs.
When I got back downstairs, Aria's backpack was sitting in the hall, and I could hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen.
I was impressed. Normally, when you tell someone to make themselves at home, they don't, but Aria clearly had. I walked into the kitchen, and right as I turned the corner, I saw her with a tub of Mila's dairy-free ice cream out, and she'd found the coffee liqueur and was pouring it over.
She looked up at me and her face started to turn tomato red. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, I just—"
I held a hand up. "Why are you apologising? I told you to make yourself at home, and I'm glad you did. It's nice to see you're not as buttoned-up and straight-laced as it seems."
"Oh, well then, excuse me," she replied and continued to dress her boozy ice cream.
I laughed and made my way into the kitchen and pulled down a bowl for myself. I set it on the counter, and Aria immediately set to making me an ice cream bowl as well.
I couldn't remember the last time a woman had made something for me. The gesture was small, but it landed with unexpected weight. I took my bowl, and we each sat on a stool, and set about our pre-dinner treat.
"So, how are things with my girl?" I asked.
"She's so great," Aria responded. "I know you know that, but I just adore her. She's taking ballet so seriously, and her ballet teacher says that she's showing a lot of promise. She told me to make sure that she keeps dancing as she gets older."
"I've heard that before too. I'm glad it's going well, she really seems to love it," I said. "And the recital is next week, right?"
Aria lit up. "Yeah, and did she tell you she got a solo?"
My jaw dropped. "What? No!"
"Yeah!" Aria yelped. "I mean, why wouldn't she? She's clearly the best.”
"Clearly," I responded, and we both laughed.
"School seems to be going well, and she's getting along well with all of her friends. You've got a good one on your hands there, Dad," Aria said.
The casual way she said it—Dad—made my chest warm. There was something about the way she fit into our life, the easy affection she had for Mila, the way she seemed genuinely invested in my daughter's happiness. It was dangerous territory, and I knew it.
