Page 61 of Cinder
“It’s always a dance party morning. But… it’s also a first-day-back-at-school morning,” Penny corrects, already moving to her phone to switch songs. “Which is arguably bigger.”
The speakers crackle slightly as the room fills again, this time withDancing Queen. Gus bursts in behind Elle as she shrieks with delight and barks once in enthusiastic agreement before running in circles around Penny, who takes Elle’s hands in hers. Traitor.
Penny spins my daughter in a loose circle, and Elle squeals, her feet lifting gently off the tiles and her hair flapping wildly.
“Daddy!” Elle shouts over the music. “You’re missing it!”
“I’m not missing anything,” I say, which would probably sound more convincing if I weren’t standing there watching them over the rim of my coffee like an idiot.
Penny raises a brow at me, then dips Elle dramatically like they’re on a stage somewhere instead of my kitchen.
“Your dad is being stubborn,” she tells her in a stage whisper.
“He always is,” Elle replies solemnly, before dissolving into laughter as Penny holds her hand up and twirls her on the spot.
“Six in the morning should be quiet,” I mutter.
Penny gasps dramatically. “That is the saddest sentence I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the correct sentence.”
Penny’s eyes flick to mine. “Can’t deny it’s a great way to start the day—gets the endorphins flowing.”
Elle frowns. “The dolphins?”
“Endorphins,” I correct. “They’re like happy chemicals in your body.”
Gus barks again, doing a chaotic half-circle around them like he’s herding sheep. They start clapping along to the rhythm, and Penny throws her head back for a second, singing the chorus louder with a giant smile on her face. Elle tries to match her and gets the words completely wrong.
They giggle when she does, then both look at me. In sync. At exactly the same time. Two sets of blue eyes, narrowing at me.
Penny extends her hand toward me, fingers wiggling.
“Come on, Prince.”
“I’m good.”
“Are you?”
Elle abandons Penny and runs straight at me, wrapping her arms around my waist and bouncing on her toes.
“Pleeeease, Daddy. Just one spin—for the dolphins!”
“I don’t do spins.”
“You mean to tell me,” Penny says, stepping closer. “Someone who multi-tasks with fire equipment and ladders and oxygen tanks all day doesn’t know how to spin a girl?”
She’s grinning, and there’s a smear of peanut butter on the side of her T-shirt. And for some damn reason, my brain picks this exact moment to notice her legs.
“Firefighting doesn’t require that kinda spinning. Or ABBA.”
“Mm, but it apparentlydoesrequire the Spice Girls,” she says, wagging her eyebrows at me.
They both start clapping again in exaggerated rhythm. “Dance! Dance! Dance!”
I roll my eyes, but I set my mug down. There’s no point pretending I’m winning this fight now that Elle’s weaponized her sad eyes.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But this is extortion.”
