Page 153 of You've Got Hate Mail
“I got up extra early to get alone time with you,” I murmur back.
“Kids have a sixth sense.”
Lav’s voice drifts down the hall. She’s wailing an old Half-Cocked Heroes song now, so I take advantage of knowing where she is to kiss Cricket again.
Feel her lips on mine.
Her hand on my neck too, thumb brushing the base of my hairline.
Yeah.
Yeah, I could do this more mornings.
As long as it’s casual.
No expectations.
“Evvvvvvery boddeeeee,” Lav croons louder, “has a beeeeesssssst friend named Tater…”
I break the kiss with a soft snort. “What song isthat?” I murmur to Cricket.
“Has to be a Lav original.”
Her bedroom door creaks, and I pull back from Cricket.
The last thing I need is my daughter catching me kissing her.
“So I’m doing your hair,” I say quietly, tensing in anticipation of Lav barreling back in.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” I swallow again. “It’ll be fucking torture, but I want to.”
She smiles. “I like when you sayfuck,” she whispers.
“Come live in my head. You’ll hear it more.”
Lav runs out in just her pajama pants. “Does pink go with green?”
“Beautifully,” Cricket says. “Like flowers.”
“Good.Daddy. You’re done eating.Do Cricket’s hair.” She disappears down the hallway again.
“Is she setting us up?” Cricket asks. “Or is this innocence?”
“I wish I knew.”
I clear our plates, then grab Lav’s brush and move behind Cricket to brush her hair out.
She visibly shivers.
“Bad?” I ask.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Please continue.”
I take my time, brushing her hair far longer than I need to, enjoying the silky feel of the strands between my fingers, lifting it away from her neck and watching the goosebumps rise on her skin more than necessary to get any knots out of her hair.
Lav’s taking too long.
