After our costumed adventure, I ate, showered, and stepped out onto the balcony for a little yoga. I didn’t need the workout. My body made that very clear. My mind, on the other hand, needed all the help it could get. Desiree’s birthday was in two days, and my emotions were all over the place—excited, anxious, a little scared. She’s smart. Smarter than I ever was. Whatever she sets her mind to will flourish. She’s got good people around her too. Friends, cousins … a whole life waiting for her. I had nothing to worry about. Didn’t stop me from worrying, though. She’s my baby girl. That part doesn’t just go away—especially not after a day like today.
I moved through the last stretch of my routine slower than usual, focusing on my breathing, trying to quiet everything down. For a moment, it worked. Then the door slid open behind me. Sophia stepped out onto the balcony, quiet. Not her usual quiet—this was … careful. Like she wasn’t sure how she’d be received. I noticed her hair before anything else. Loose curls framed her face, soft and full, catching the light in a way I’d never seen before. I didn’t even know her hair did that. It looked … natural. Effortless. Like something that had been waiting to be debuted.
“I’m gonna stop straightening my hair,” she said, watching me carefully. “I hope you’re not mad.”
I blinked. “Why would I be mad?”
That was the only question I asked. Something about the way she stood there—half-guarded, half-exposed—told me this wasn’t really about maintenance.
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging, but not quite looking at me. “You’ve only ever seen it straight. Maybe you won’t like it like this.”
I studied her for a second. Really looked this time. There was something underneath that suggestion. Something older than today.
I stepped a little closer. “With all the curls I had? Why wouldn’t I like it?” I smiled. “Sophia, you could go bald and still be smoking hot.”
She let out a small breath, tension easing from her shoulders just enough to notice.
“I just…” She hesitated, fingers brushing one of the curls as if she wasn’t used to it being there. “I got tired of fighting it all the time.”
That was it. That was all she gave me, but it was enough.
I nodded like I understood, even if I didn’t fully. “Well, for the record … I like it.”
She glanced up at me, searching for something, then gave a small smile when she found it. I didn’t push. Instead, I leaned back against the wall and started telling her about our day—getting lost, the costumes, the spin class that nearly ended me—
—and then a little somebody joined us.
Logan stood in front of us, visibly upset. Sophia’s whole posture changed the second she saw him.
“Why aren’t you in bed, Logan?” she asked, firm.
He stomped his foot, flapped his arms, frustration bubbling over. Words tried to come out, but the only one that made it through clearly was: “Daddy!”
Sophia moved to pick him up, but I stepped in.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He hasn’t seen me all day. I’ll give him ten minutes and put him down.”
She stared at me for a second, clearly not thrilled. “That doesn’t help enforce staying in bed.”
“I know. Just ten minutes. I promise.”
She hesitated, then gave in and headed back inside.
I scooped him up and gave him a big kiss.
“What in the world did you and Mommy get into while we were gone?”
