Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2) novel Chapter 30

I’ve never cooked as a team before, but it turns out to be surprisingly effortless. I babysit the two saucepans of rice while Presley microwaves the vegetables and preps the other ingredients so I can add them at the right times. We’re a well-oiled machine, humming along at peak efficiency, moving around the kitchen without even bumping into each other.

In less than half an hour, we’re finished. Still working in perfect tandem, we put the full plates on the table, help the girls into their booster seats, and clean up drips and messy faces between taking bites of our own dinners.

When dessert has disappeared and I start to see droopy eyelids, I say, “Uh-oh, somebody looks sleepy.”

“Am not,” Lacey tries to insist before an enormous yawn cuts her off.

Emilia gives us her most potent puppy-dog look. “One more TV? Pleeease?”

I get up to clear the dishes. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Yes, you do,” both girls chorus.

“Oh no, they’ve become too smart. We’re doomed.” I throw up my hands with a mock look of terror.

Presley giggles. “What’s their usual bedtime routine? I was too wiped out to keep track of what you were doing while I was sick.”

I tick off items on my fingers. “Bath, change into jammies, braid their hair, tuck them in, read them a story.”

“I haven’t braided anyone’s hair since middle school,” Presley says with a small smile.

“Okay, girls, you know the drill.” I clap my hands. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

We corral them toward the bathroom with only a minimal amount of grumbling. Presley fetches washcloths and fills the tub with warm water while I undress the girls, and we share the task of brushing out their hair. Naturally, as soon as they get their hands on the bath toys, all complaints cease. Lacey is so intent on her windup swimming penguin that she barely notices anything I’m doing, even wiping her face. Presley washes Emilia while she scribbles all over the tub’s walls with bath crayons.

In no time at all, we’re at the last phase. “Close face,” I say.

The two of them giggle and scrunch their faces as tight as possible. I quickly shampoo and rinse Lacey’s hair. After a moment of confusion, Presley does the same with Emilia.

I check the clock. Divide and conquer, indeed. With the two of us working together, a task that normally takes half an hour is done in under ten minutes.

In their bedroom, we wrestle them into pajamas, careful to get their favorite colors right—green for Emilia, pink for Lacey. Presley sits on the bed with Emilia between her knees, but when I sit behind Lacey, she frowns.

“I want Presley braids!”

“Hey, you’re hurting Daddy’s feelings,” Presley chides gently.

“Sorry,” Lacey mutters, not very convincingly.

I chuckle. “Nah, it’s okay. I do both girls’ hair nearly every night. I can go clean up the bathroom instead.”

When I return from mopping up spilled water, setting out the toys to dry, and wiping crayon off porcelain, the sight of Presley stops me in my tracks. She’s working on the last few inches of Lacey’s braid with nimble fingers and a tender smile, humming under her breath. The scene is so cozy and serene. She looks . . . like home.

My chest aches, and my feet are stuck in their spot on the carpeting.

Presley glances up and smiles at me. “I’m almost done.”

“Take your time,” I manage to say, my voice tight with some unnamed emotion.

Maybe I’m only remembering what it felt like to have my own mother fuss over me—after the sun had gone down and I’d been scrubbed clean, lying on freshly laundered sheets while she combed her fingers through my hair and sang under her breath.

God, it was a lifetime ago. I’m a bit melancholy right now, thinking that the memories I have of being cared for by a mom won’t be memories that my own daughters will ever have, and that makes me incredibly sad.

I squat in front of the girls’ bookshelf, pondering, and take a deep breath. “What kind of story do you guys want tonight?”

“Make one up,” Emilia says.

“With space aliens,” Lacey adds.

“And princesses and magic.”

“And ducks!”