“Is Alana here yet?”
Becca was sitting on the bed on her knees and bouncing.
“She is.”
His daughter climbed off the bed and ran toward the stairs, but he snatched her up and brought her to the bathroom first. If she got distracted, she’d wet herself.
Once she finished in there, he carried her down the stairs, set her down, and watched her dash into the living room and launch herself at Alana.
“You’re here!”
“I am,” Alana said, picking his daughter up. “Did you have a nice nap?”
“I did and now we can all dance.”
“Huh?” he asked.
“I want a dance party. Daddy can make up the dances. He does it best. Let’s dance.”
He wasn’t sure which one of them was more stunned by Becca’s announcement.
Alana’s face was almost as red as the sweater she had on.
“Maybe let’s try that another day.”
“Nope,” Becca said, shaking her head. “You told me we’d do a new dance this weekend. You promised. Why can’t we do it together?”
“Well,” Alana said. “If you promised.”
“I’m going to get some costumes and accessories too,” Becca said.
“Oh God.” His daughter was dictating this outing in the most embarrassing way possible.
Becca ran into her playroom.
“You can say no,” he whispered.
“No way. Not with costumes,” she said, laughing. There was mischief in her eyes he’d never witnessed before. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of it, even if it was at the expense of his manhood.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Here, Daddy. Your favorite.”
Becca handed him the pink-and-white feathered boa to put on his neck, then gave a purple one to Alana. “If you tell anyone about this,” he warned and rolled his eyes.
“My lips are sealed.”
“I’m putting my skirt on.”
Becca pulled on her little pink tutu over her jeans. “That’s pretty.”
“I want Daddy to get a matching one, but he said no.”
Alana put her tongue between her teeth. “Hmmm. I’m not sure that’s your daddy’s style.”
“I put pink lipstick on him. Pink looks good.”
He closed his eyes and let out a breath.
