Page 52 of Grasp The Moment

“I can teach you Spanish!” she exclaims, picking up my hands as she turns to fully face me.

Thank God I finished her hair before Derek called out to her.

Giving her a small smile, I listen intently as she explains what the word “mande” means and frown. This entire time, I’d been thinking they were talking about a specific day of the week when, in reality, they were reacting to being called.

I feel like the biggest idiot in the world as Delilah continues to speak, “Do you know how to say hello?”

Chuckling, I nod. Noting the small piece of hair sticking up from her braided bun, I turn her back in her seat and fix it as she continues my Spanish lesson.

“And when you want to say ‘No,’ you just say the English version since they’re the same word,” she rambles on, and I soak in her every word like a sponge.

“What do I say when I want to tell your papá to make cupcakes?”

Delilah seems to ponder my question for a second before turning back to me. “Hazme pastelitos, or you could say just cupcakes,” She shrugs, pouting adorably.

“Pasta-lee-toes? Like pasta?”

The four-year-old grimaces, shaking her head. “Pastelitos,” she says, pronouncing the word slowly. I nod, brushing out her tiny baby hairs to frame her face.

“Got it. Are you ready to see your hair?”

Delilah gives me a bright smile, jumping up and down as she turns to look in the mirror on her wall. She gasps when she takes in the sight of herself in the mirror.

“I look like a princess!” she exclaims, looking at me with a proud smile.

“You’re a princess every day, Deli Belly.”

Delilah scrunches her nose, a small blush dusting her cheeks as she giggles. “Can you do my hair every day?”

My eyes widen, and my heart grows two sizes as her words sink in. “Of course, I’ll do your hair for as long as you’d like.”

Derek’s throat clearing catches both of our attention, and the sight of him steals my breath away. He leans against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. His hair is damp and curly from his shower, and he’s wearing a dark green sweater, his glasses a matching color.

I get goosebumps when our eyes lock and chills when he winks at me.

“I hate to interrupt this sweet moment, but Deli, we’re going to be late for school. You’ll have to eat breakfast in the car,” he says, taking a step into the room as she sighs but nods.

Derek smiles at his daughter, kissing the top of her forehead before turning to me, stealing a kiss from my lips.

“Good morning,” he says softly, his eyes warm as they trace over my face.

“Good morning.”

In less than fifteen minutes, we’re out of the apartment, the three of us singing along to Princess North's latest soundtrack as we drive Delilah to school.

Derek’s hand has found a permanent home on my thigh as he drives, and I’m not complaining one bit as we stop at Deli’s school.

“Make good choices,” he says to the preschooler as she giggles.

“Block more goals,” Delilah chimes back, unbuckling herself from her booster seat as Derek laughs heartily. I join in laughing when Delilah stands in the space between the front and back seats.

She looks between us, her eyes shifty as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, exposing her dimple.

“Can both of you walk me to class today?” she asks.

Derek and I lock eyes swiftly with one another before I bust out a huge grin. “Of course!”

We walk Delilah to her class, hand in hand, allowing her to play and skip all the way to the classroom.