Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“That’s fine, sweetie. You have to stay in the back here and draw on the sidewalk, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. I won’t go up front,” she insists, heading back inside to retrieve the tote full of sidewalk chalks of all sizes and colors.
I keep an eye on her as the grill warms up. She’s on her third rainbow when I hear a car pull into the driveway and stop, quickly followed by a car door shutting. My heart rate kicks up a bit as anticipation fills my body. I don’t say anything to Chloe as I walk over to the edge of the deck and glance down the driveway. There she is, all beautiful and fresh from a shower. When she sees me, she softly grins and heads my way.
“Hey,” I say as she reaches the back deck.
“Hi.”
Chloe suddenly realizes we have company and jumps up, throwing her arms around Haven’s waist. “Miss Haven! Did you come to draw rainbows with me?”
Haven doesn’t miss a beat. Her smile broadens as she replies, “I sure did.”
She throws me a wink before heading over to where my daughter has been drawing on the sidewalk. Together, they sit down and draw everything from rainbows to fish to a princess crown. All I can do is stare at their easy interaction. Haven is patient and encouraging, in that maternal way any single father would appreciate. But since it’s her—my Haven—it just means that much more.
“Hope you’re okay with chicken drumsticks,” I say as I scrape the grill grates with my brush.
“They’re my favorite!” Chloe chimes in. “And mac and cheese.”
“But not the box stuff, right?” I ask, already smiling.
“Nope! We makedid our own.” My daughter looks over at Haven, and without missing a beat, adds, “Sometimes my mommy makes the boxed cheese. It doesn’t taste as good, but I tell her I like it.”
Haven turns to me and grins. I shrug. “What can I say? No Kraft stuff in this house.” I place the drumsticks on the grill and lightly season them before closing the lid and heading down the steps. When I reach the base of the stairs, Haven glances up with a big grin as my daughter colors a big yellow circle. “Is that the sun?”
Chloe glances up, a look of offense on her sweet little face. “It’s a chicken, Daddy.”
“Oh.” When she adds the feet and head, it finally starts to resemble a chicken.
“You like chickens, huh?” Haven asks, watching my daughter draw.
“They’re my favorite. Like mac and cheese.”
“Have you ever seen a chicken up close?”
Chloe turns all of her attention to her drawing partner and shakes her head. “No, but I want my own chickens, and then I see them real close. Right, Daddy?”
“Right, sweetie,” I reply with a smile.
Haven glances over her shoulder at me, as if seeking permission. When I give her a slight nod, she gives my daughter the best gift she could. “Would you like to come over and see my parents’ chickens someday?”
“Today?” Chloe asks, her eyes wide with shock.
“No, not today, but maybe soon. My parents have animals and they have about two dozen chickens,” Haven replies.
“Is that like a million?”
With a snicker, Haven answers, “No, it’s twenty-four. If we go out in the morning, you can help collect eggs.”
Chloe jumps up and runs straight for me, her little legs carrying her up the stairs as fast as they can. “Daddy, Daddy, can we go see the chickens and get the eggs?”
I squat down, meeting her eager face. “If you’d like, I’m sure we can arrange this soon.”
“Today?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?” Her eyes plead with me.
I glance down at Haven, who’s already grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe,” I answer, not really comfortable with just inviting ourselves out to the Deckers’ farm without their consent.
“Yay!”
“I said maybe.”
She throws her arms around my neck and kisses my scruffy cheek. “That means yes,” she whispers, making me laugh.
“I have an idea. While I cook the chicken, maybe you and Miss Haven can get the mac and cheese ready?”
“Yes! I’ll show her how to put the extra cheese inside to make it extra gooder.”
“I do love extra cheese,” Haven says, joining us on the deck.
“Come on, Miss Haven. Let’s go make the cheese.”
My daughter leads her inside the house, chatting about the chickens the whole way. I grab the tongs and flip the legs, doing everything and anything to get my mind off the fact Haven Decker is inside my house right now, cooking with my daughter. It’s a little mind-blowing, honestly. A week ago, I never would have thought she’d be back in Hope, let alone standing in my kitchen. But here we are, doing something as mundane and domesticated as cooking dinner together.
It feels really fucking good.
After dinner, Chloe draws Haven into the living room to do a few stretches and to work on balance. Haven said it probably wasn’t best to do it after dinner, but my daughter, the fierce warrior, wasn’t to be deterred. I’m standing in the kitchen, cleaning up the plates and listening to them laugh and carry on. Even though I’m not standing in the other room, watching, I can hear Haven give polite instructions and can tell my daughter is following them. Haven even praises Chloe after a job well done.