Page 51 of York

“Yeah. I just want to make sure you are able to slip out of survival mode eventually. You can’t live there indefinitely. Not if you want to be a calm, positive mom to Denali.”

“I have been feeling a lot less stress as a whole. But, yeah, I’m hoping that life can become normal for both our sakes. Time will tell.”

“It will. Well, I have one last client for the day, so I’m going to get going. But I’m so happy to hear you two are doing well.”

We ended the call and I went back inside to see Denali standing in the kitchen, looking a little guilty.

“Was that Daddy?”

“No. That was an old friend. Were you looking for a snack?”

“Pudding?”

“Sure,” I said, grabbing her one from the fridge and opening it.

“Is Daddy cooking dinner?”

“That I don’t know,” I admitted. “But he is going to feed you. Then I will be home to kiss you goodnight.”

I’d lucked out on a job to clean an office building. Those jobs under the table weren’t easy to come by, and they paid pretty well. And I was trying to keep my name out there in the circle of people who needed cash-only workers. Even though, since getting the apartment and all the food in it, I’d really only needed to spend money on gas and minutes for my phone. It was just good to have, to know if I needed it, it was there.

“That’s your father,” I said when there was a knock at the door. “Oh, God. What is all this?” I asked when I opened the door to find him standing there with all sorts of boxes and bags.

“Supplies.”

“Clearly. But what kind?”

“Camping.”

“Camping? I thought we agreed you’d stay in the apartment?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust York. I did. But I was always anxious leaving Denali. I wanted at least to know where she was. And that she wasn’t being squeezed by a giant escaped pet snake while I vacuumed office carpets and emptied trash bins.

“We’re camping inside,” York explained. “Using the tent as a projector screen to watch some princess movie.”

“And picnic,” Denali added.

“Yep. And picnic. Don’t worry. I promise to clean it all up.”

“Well, that sounds like lots of fun. I love camping.”

“With the bugs,” Denali said, her lip curling.

“Well, you try not to let the bugs in the tent. But it happens. I woke up to a Cecropia moth as big as my hand resting on the pillow next to me once.”

“What’s that look like?”

“Well, you’re going to have to ask Daddy to show you because I am going to be late. Be good, okay?” I said, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to be good?”

I rolled my eyes. “I know better.”

“Doesn’t Daddy get a kiss?” Denali, sweet, clueless Denali, asked.

York shot me a look that was half amusement, half challenge. And, really, when a man looked at you like that, what choice did you have but to rise to it?

I had to go up onto my tiptoes so I could lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.