Page 21 of Pucking Daddy

“Yes, thank you,” I mutter, reaching for one and taking a bite.

I chew slowly, my brow tightening just a fraction.

“That good?” she asks, watching me a little too closely.

I swallow. “It’s a cookie,” I say, aiming for nonchalance.

She folds her arms, unimpressed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s—” I pause, like I’m choosing my words carefully. “—acceptable.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”

I take another bite. “Fine. It’s good,” I admit.

“So, is that what you and Lily did today? Bake cookies?”

“We had a good day,” Zara says. “I think we’re already becoming fast friends. We made cookies. She told me about her friend Maria and a hamster with a very important name.”

Sir Fluffington.

Something in my chest loosens before I can stop it.

“She also made me meet all her stuffed animals. There are… a lot of them.”

“There are,” I confirm.

“For bedtime, I read her three chapters of her book. I’m a fan of early bedtimes for kids. They still need their rest, you know?”

Huh. A flicker of grudging respect settles in.

“Thank you,” I say. The words feel almost unfamiliar in my mouth.

Her expression softens just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

Silence settles between us again. The space between us isn’t neutral. It’s charged.

Her eyes flick to my mouth for half a second.

Fuck.

I step back immediately. Distance. I need distance.

“Get some rest,” I say. “We start early.”

“Yeah,” she replies quietly. “You too.”

I push away from the counter and head down the hallway to Lily’s door.

I open it quietly and slip inside, tiptoeing to her bed.

She’s sprawled across the mattress in that way kids do, one arm flung above her head, the other curled around her stuffed rabbit. The nightlight casts a soft glow over her face, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her breathing slow and even.

For a moment, I just stand there, watching her.

This—this is what matters.

Her.