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With a sharp exhale I shut the back door after strapping Sally in.

As soon as I got into the driver’s seat, she didn’t request, but demanded I play the song she kept humming and I knew better than to put up a fight.

She screamed the lyrics, wiggling her shoulders and throwing her arms in the air as she enjoyed the song. What the actual fuck? I glanced at the radio and it read: Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani.

“Ooh, this my shit.” She continued singing.

“Language.” I warned and she giggled, before singing at the top of her lungs.

We reached the ice cream shop after her music gave me the absolute worst migraine. It unfortunately wasn’t half as bad as the migraine I got from her singing. Yelling.

“There’s so many flavours.” She beamed up at me, squeezing my hand. I learned my lesson about letting her roam around without holding the hand of an adult. “What should I get?”

“What do you like?”

“All of them.” She giggled, eyes back on the display in front of us and I almost smiled but opted for shaking my head instead. The sun was barely out, but who was I to question why she’d want ice cream in winter.

After ordering a mountain of flavours and toppings, she finally said, “Two of those please.” Two?

I opened my mouth to object but her blue eyes glistened with a plea, and I couldn’t get myself to dim the light in her eyes. She was subtly bouncing in the same spot, her eagerness too much for her body.

With a resigned sigh I nodded at the service worker before paying.

After getting our… ice cream, we found a spot near the window and I helped her onto the high bar stool. She kicked her legs, digging into the sugary monstrosity and I was starting to believe that by giving the hyperactive child more sugar… I’d made a grave mistake.

“It’s so good.” She hummed, stuffing her face and I offered my best smile. “Brain freeze.” She squeaked, pushing her hand to her forehead.

“Slow down,” I murmured and after a beat she exhaled, continuing in excitement.

“Try it.” She motioned her spoon to my untouched tub of sugar and I hesitated.

There were so many toppings and hot fudge that I couldn’t even see the ice cream. I scooped the smallest amount and her smile widened as I slipped it into my mouth. That’s disgusting.

“Good, right?” No.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Antonio…” she started, sticking her spoon into her ice cream before leaning forward on her forearms. “Are you and Nirah really married?”

I lowered the spoon into the little tub. “Yes.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to the right. “You don’t talk, you don’t hug, you don’t even kiss.” She pinned me with a look. “Married people talk, hug, and kiss.” She almost informed me. “You don’t. Not on the lips, not on the cheek, not even on the forehead. So are you lying to me?”

I never thought I’d be interrogated over my marriage by a six year old, much less one that I didn’t want to disappoint. Or upset.

“You pay way too much attention to our marriage.” I teased and she smiled.

“Of course I do.” She picked up her spoon. “You guys are my—“ she cut herself off, eyes wide before they lowered to her ice cream. She cleared her throat, mindlessly poking the concoction she created as she awkwardly shifted in her seat.

“We’re what?” I slightly tilted my head, trying to see her eyes and she finally looked up at me.

“Mighty cool.” She offered her best smile. “Yeah… you’re really cool. And I care.”

My eyebrows raised as I watched her continue eating her ice cream, the ray of sunshine she had just been a second ago gone.

“Sally…”

“I think I want to play now.” She glanced out at the park across the road. She pushed her ice cream towards me and hopped off with a stumble before heading out the shop.