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He turns back to look at me. “Pizza isn’t good for the . . .” He eyes Ashlyn warily and sighs. “Pizza, it is then.”
“We’re just pulling your leg, Dad. We don’t want pizza. I want us to cook together.” She glances at me with a smile. “The three of us. Like a family.”
My heart melts at her words. “That will be fun.”
We arrive at Miles’s apartment on Park Avenue, and we set off preparing dinner. Ashlyn suggests spaghetti with tomato sauce, which is her favorite meal, and mine too. While she boils the spaghetti, Miles makes the tomato and meat sauce and I make the salad. We discuss the ballet we just saw, other performances, and her school activities. When we’re done, we settle down to devour the delicious meal.
Toward the end of dinner, Miles turns to his daughter sitting at his left.
“Sugarplum, Giselle and I have something to tell you,” Miles begins gently.
Her eyes take on an eager look as she slips a strand of spaghetti into her mouth. She glances from her dad to me and then keeps her eyes on him. I struggle to keep a straight face because I’m nervous. Although she has shown that she’s okay with Miles and me dating, I don’t know how she’ll react to something permanent between us.
“What is it, Dad?”
“Giselle and I are getting married.”
She flies out of her chair to throw her arms around her dad and my breath whooshes out from my chest when she hurries over to do the same to me and kiss my cheek.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, sweetie. You don’t mind me being your stepmom?”
She beams joyously. “Of course not! I’m delighted. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
I hug her tightly as tears sting my eyes.
“Will she come skiing with us next month?” she questions her dad with excitement and then turns to me. “You’ve got to come. It’s so much fun. I’ve been skiing since I was four. We’ve skied in France, Switzerland, and Austria. Last year, we went to Morzine in France. We’re going to Austria again next month.”
It was with excitement that I learned earlier that Miles is a good skier, and that he takes his daughter on skiing trips to Europe every March during her school spring break. As much as I like to ski, having done so in Val Thorens and Tignes, I’ll have to sit it out on the sidelines this year.
“I’ll come, but I won’t be able to ski.”
Her enthusiasm disappears as her eyes take on a dull shade. “Why? You don’t know how to ski? Dad will teach you.”
“It’s not that, sweetie.” I glance at Miles.
“We have something else to tell you,” Miles informs her, and her eyes widen like saucers. He looks at me, grinning. “Care to do the honors, honey?”
Holding my breath, I say, “You’re going to have a baby brother or sister in about five months or so.”
She jerks out of my arms, looking stupefied. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
She throws her arms around me again. “This is the best day ever!”
“Careful, sugarplum.”
“Oh!” She draws away and stares at me with alarm. “I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?”
Giving Miles a withering look, I smile at her. “Of course not, sweetie. I’m fine.”
She hops from one leg to the other. “I hope it’s a girl. I’ll teach her how to dance ballet.”
“And if it’s a boy?” her dad questions with curved brows.
She shrugs. “Boys dance ballet too. If it’s a boy, then I bet you the next one will be a girl.”
