I roll my eyes and bite my tongue because what does she think it’s like back here? Knowing that’s not a conversation I need to have with her, I ask, “So what are you thinking then?”
“I’m thinking we take a page out of Cozy’s book and let Everly tell us what she wants to do when the school year starts up. We’ve raised a good kid. Maybe it’s time to let her show us how she wants to live her life.”
“I think that sounds like a great plan,” I reply instantly, grateful that after a decade of co-parenting, Jessica and I are still mostly on the same page when it comes to Everly.
However, I don’t think I ever would have predicted both of our points of view to align with a nanny who said, “Why do more when you can do less?” But this feels right for Everly.
Jess and I end the call on a positive note, and it’s just after five by the time I walk into the kitchen. I instantly feel lighter as the scent and comfort of home invade all my senses. I search for my kid and spot both her and Cassandra outside on a blanket.
They’re lying on their tummies with their feet pointing at the sky and making what looks to be some friendship bracelets. My chest expands at the picture-perfect moment. Seeing those two has become a familiar sight for me the past five weeks. One I will miss when the summer ends.
I drape my jacket over a barstool before opening the slider to the deck. Everly’s head pops up when she hears my footsteps.
“Dad!” She rushes up the deck steps and barrels into my stomach, wrapping her hands around my hips. “Can I please, please, please, pleeease have Claire come for a sleepover tonight?”
“Claire?” I ask, frowning over at Cassandra. “Lynsey’s niece?”
“Yes!” Everly exclaims. “We were chatting on kids messenger, and I think it would be so much fun to have her here. Can I please?”
She holds her hands up in prayer and gives me those puppy dog eyes that I can never say no to. “Sure, it’s fine by me.”
“Yes!” She thrusts her fists up into the air. “Okay, second question…”
“Oh, God,” I groan and begin to undo my tie, knowing the next request is going to be the tough one. Everly always buries the lead.
“Can we do the sleepover in the tiny house? Cozy said she didn’t mind. And I love sleeping in the loft. It feels like camping.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never camped,” I retort, shaking my head adamantly. “That is Cassandra’s home. You cannot use it like it’s a playhouse.”
“But she said she didn’t mind!” Everly whines and looks backward. “Right, Cozy?”
Cassandra shoots me a guilty look as she slides her hands into her pockets. “I really don’t mind. I washed the sheets today and everything but it’s obviously your call.”
“Please, Dad?” Everly whines again, tugging on the tails of my tie.
I sigh heavily and look at Cassandra. “Are you completely sure? This is one request I have no problem saying no to.”
“It’s fine.” Cassandra waves her off. “I’ll go stay at my sister’s or Dakota’s.”
My brow furrows at that reply before Everly says, “Or you can sleep in my bed!”
Or she could sleep in my bed, I growl inwardly like a fucking psychopathic papa bear. I clear my throat and shake that thought away. “We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangements for everybody later. Let’s call Claire’s parents first, okay?”
Everly whoops with joy, and I do my best not to think too much about my decision to break my rule about no sleepovers with women in my house.
“Claire will be here within the hour,” Max calls up the spiral staircase to Everly, who squeals with delight.
“I’m packing my overnight bag for the tiny house,” she yells down. “This sleepover is going to be GOAT!”
Max turns his sexy, confused face to me.
“Greatest of all time,” I translate with a laugh because he doesn’t remember from the last time we explained it to him. He’s such a cute grump sometimes.
“I’m going to cancel Michael tonight and just order pizza,” Max grumbles, pulling his phone out to text his chef. He looks stressed. An eleven-year-old having a friend sleepover has ruffled him. It’s adorable.
“Ask him if he has any cookie dough first,” I offer helpfully. “The girls could make the cookies without the mess of making the dough.”
Max wags his finger at me. “Genius.”