Page 63 of Safe With You

“Yeah?”

“Can I wear my butterfly shirt?”

I glanced toward the pile of clothes I’d already laid across the foot of her bed.

“I picked something out.”

“But does it have butterflies?”

“...No.”

She went quiet long enough that I thought she might actually be considering it before calling back, “I vote butterflies.”

“I had a feeling you might.”

Five minutes later, she’d successfully argued her case. The dinosaur shirt I’d picked out was folded neatly back into her dresser, replaced by a lavender shirt covered in butterflies wearing tiny sunglasses.

By the time we were both dressed, backpacks packed, and lunches zipped inside insulated bags, the house had fully come alive. The dishwasher hummed in the background, cartoons played softly from the living room where Mila insisted they made breakfast taste better, and my coffee had gone from hot to merely warm after being reheated twice.

That was about average.

I grabbed my mug and leaned against the counter while Mila finished the last few bites of cereal, kicking her legs against the barstool.

I rinsed out the bowl she’d left behind and set it in the sink, then reached for my keys from the ceramic tray near the door. My camera bag was already waiting beside it, packed the night before with an extra battery, a notebook, and my laptop.

I almost walked past the bakery box sitting on the counter.

Almost.

I’d picked it up on my way home yesterday afternoon after deciding it would be easier than trying to stop somewhere before nine. Fresh croissants, blueberry muffins, and a handful of cinnamon rolls filled the white box, the smell of butter and sugar escaping the moment I lifted the lid to make sure everything still looked the way I remembered.

It did.

I closed the box again, grabbed the handles, and reached for my coffee.

“Daddy?”

Mila stood in the doorway with one sneaker on and the other dangling from her fingertips.

“Who’s that breakfast for?”

I looked down at the box.

“The bookstore.”

She nodded like that answered everything.

Maybe to her, it did.

“I like the bookstore.”

“I know you do.”

“Can I come?”

“Not today. You’ve got school.”

She sighed dramatically enough to belong on a stage.