Page 2 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

My pencil pauses for half a second before I add a second rabbit beside the first. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she says confidently, leaning closer so her curls brush my arm and her sticky fingers hover dangerously near my sketchbook. “Because the daddy rabbit rescues everybody, and he’s the strongest one, and he’s the only one big enough to fight the dragon.”

I glance down at the page and start shading the rabbit’s ear a little darker. “That’s a lot of responsibility for one rabbit. He’s going to need a very good union.”

“He’s brave,” she continues, swinging her legs against the bench and watching the pencil move. “Like really brave, like he runs straight into the dragon cave even when everybody else is scared.”

“Good quality,” I say, sketching a slightly ridiculous chest puff onto the rabbit.

“And nice,” she adds immediately, leaning her shoulder against mine as if this is obviously the next requirement. “He has to be nice because the baby rabbits won’t listen to him if he’s mean.”

“Even better.” I add a tiny sword that looks more like a carrot.

“And he always comes home,” she finishes, saying it casually while licking a streak of strawberry from the side of her cone.

For a second my pencil slows against the paper, and I keep my eyes on the drawing because that feels easier than looking at her. Kids have a way of saying things without realizing they’re saying something important, and this one hits closer than I’d like.

I clear my throat and add a cape to the rabbit. “Superhero rabbit,” I say, angling the page toward her. “He saves everyone, attends all birthday parties, and probably pays his taxes early.”

Ivy studies the picture with deep seriousness, her brows pulling together in concentration while she takes another messy bite of ice cream. “He looks strong,” she decides after a moment.

“He definitely lifts,” I reply. “Very committed to leg day.”

That earns me a giggle, the bright kind that turns her whole face into a grin. She leans into my side while watching the pencil move again, her small shoulder pressing comfortably against my arm.

I add a few finishing touches to the baby rabbit. “That’s a very cute baby,” she announces immediately. “And the dragon tries to take him, but the daddy rabbit comes and saves him.”

“That dragon is making very poor life choices.” I add a pair of dramatically angry eyebrows to the dragon in the corner of the page.

“He’s misunderstood,” she corrects, pointing decisively at the drawing. “Dragons are sometimes lonely.”

I blink at her. “Are they?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “But the daddy rabbit still has to fight him because the baby rabbit is important.”

I shade the edge of the page while she keeps narrating the story, and somewhere in the middle of her explanation I feel the familiar tug in my chest that shows up every time she talks about fathers like they’re a normal part of the world.

“Mommy,” she says suddenly, nudging my elbow.

“Hmm?”

“You’d be a good rabbit mommy.”

I glance down at her and smile before I can stop myself. “That’s good,” I say, flipping the pencil between my fingers. “Because I hear rabbit children love to be around their mommies.”

“They do,” she agrees solemnly.

Then she finishes the last bite of her ice cream and beams up at me, strawberry smeared across her cheek and sunlight caught in the dark curls that refuse to behave no matter how many times I brush them.

Storm-gray eyes blink slowly at me.

Those eyes get me every time.

Sometimes I can pretend I don’t notice the resemblance, sometimes it slips past me in the middle of a busy morning or a bedtime story, but other days it shows up in small quiet moments like this and refuses to leave.

I lower my gaze back to the page and keep drawing.

The pencil moves automatically now, filling in little details while Ivy leans comfortably against my arm and narrates an increasingly complicated adventure involving the rabbit knight, the dragon who turns out to be misunderstood, and an entire kingdom of animals who apparently rely on this one extremely hardworking father rabbit.