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“What will Layla think?”
“Layla will think we’re together.”
For a moment Harper was quiet, then her eyes searched my face. “Given that I know how wary you were about shaking Layla’s emotional stability and routines, do you think you’re ready for this kind of commitment with me?”
“Baby, it’s being sure of what was right for her that’s kept me out of your pants before.”
“So…” she trailed off.
“So, I’m asking you if you’ll move in with me.”
“We have to be sure.”
“Agreed, and I am. Are you?”
“Yes,” Harper interjected before I repeated the argument I had used so often before. Seeing her beaming smile made my heart squeeze at how happy I’d made her.
“Hey, Layla, Baby. Can you come and sit down for a few minutes please?” Harper asked as she wiped her hands nervously on her jeans and gave me a forced smile.
“Is this going to take long? I’m coloring in a unicorn in my pad.”
“No, only a minute or two. Your dad and I want to talk to you.”
Huffing noisily, she jumped down from her chair at the table and wandered over to the couch at the far end of the kitchen that turned into a den.
“Make it quick.” Her sassy made me smirk, because she was as impatient as I was and thoroughly focused when she was doing something she enjoyed.
I glanced at Harper and bit my lip, but I wasn’t worried about telling my daughter because I knew she’d be happy about the new arrangement. “What would you say if I said I love Harper?”
Harper’s eyes shot to mine. I did, I just hadn’t voiced my feelings to her. I hadn’t intended to say it to Layla first either, the words just came out.
“Daddy, we all love Harper,” she replied, impatiently.
“Yes, but because I love Harper, and Harper loves me, we’re going to have sleepovers every night. If I said Harper’s my girlfriend now, how would you feel about this?”
“Does this mean if Steven Moody from school is my boyfriend he has to sleep in my room?”
“God, no,” I chuckled. “Harper and I are going to live like Max and Sarah-Jayne.”
“Okay, so now Harper’s my mom? Do I call her mommy?”
“No, your Daddy and I aren’t married, but we live like I am.”
“But if you get married, I can?”
“Yeah, but that’s way in the future, maybe,” Harper said, stumbling over the question.
“Good, now can I go back to my coloring book?”
“Sure,” I told Layla, and both Harper and I shrugged at each other because she was my kid and was unfazed by our revelation. Harper and I began talking about the remodeling of my room and Layla dropped her crayon and came back to sit beside us. Suddenly she was far more excited about new furniture and cutting in on the deal, even managing to snag herself a Disney Princess mural.
When the remodel started, Harper was quiet, and I knew something was wrong. When I challenged her, she told me she didn’t want to sleep in the room where I had so many memories of Grace.
“Changing furniture won’t erase how you feel in that room. Please can we move into another one?”
“Fine, we’ll take yours,” I replied sounding indifferent, but I was pleased she’d spoken up, because she was right, and in the nine weeks we’d been together I’d never taken her in there.
Asking the designer to work with Harper on the remodel gave Harper the opportunity to choose how she wanted things to be, and it gave me the chance to spend time with Layla while the changes took place.
