“Toys in the box,” he bargains, holding the packet up where she can’t reach it.
Mila pouts.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Put some away. I’ll help you. Here.” He throws the candy in my lap and wrestles Mila to the floor.
She giggles loudly followed by a shriek when he tickles her sides. My lips twitch in amusement. I lick my lips to hide it but fail. Damn, it’s not tidying, but she’s on cloud nine.
“Dadda, no, no, no,” Mila shrieks through her high-pitched laughs.
“Yeah, Dadda, thought you were tidying?”
Conner stops and looks up at me. “Eh, I prefer the fun stuff.”
“You’re not getting the candy until you pick up.” I cross my arms, the packet in my hand.
Conner grabs two toys. He hands one to Mila and they both chunk them in the direction of the toy box. “There,” he says. “Picked up.”
“Honestly? That’s your idea of tidying?”
“Yep. Now give me the candy.” He gets on all fours and makes a swipe for it.
I get up and skip away, dangling the candy over my head. Which is the stupidest thing ever, because he’s got at least six inches on me. He scrambles up using the sofa and darts toward me, Mila laughing behind him.
“No!” I shove the packet inside my bra, then jump over a doll on the floor and narrowly miss colliding with the toy guitar.
“Sofie,” Conner warns, following my foot path.
“Nuh-uh!”
I run out of the living room and down the hallway, fighting a bout of laughter as he follows me. He slips on the floor but rights himself immediately. I’m backed against the wall, my stomach hurting from resisting the giggles, and his eyes land on me.
“Give. Now.” He advances toward me slowly, almost predatory, and holds out his hand.
“No!” I dart under his arm and let that laugh out. I dive back into the front room, much to Mila’s amusement, and glance back at him. “This isn’t tidyyyyy!”
I slip on a coloring book. My heart climbs into my throat, but Conner’s arms shoot out, and he tackles me onto the sofa. I scream, falling backward with a huge thump. He lies over me, grinning and breathing heavily.
“One last chance. Candy. Now.”
I shake my head. “Go and pick—”
He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine. He pins my arms above my head and nibbles on my bottom lip. My stomach muscles clench and my head goes fuzzy, but then it’s over and he’s off me and—
“Success!” He holds the candy in the air and lifts Mila.
He spins her around, then brings the packet to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. I purse my lips as she dives her little hand into the bright packet and shoves about four pieces into her mouth.
“That wasn’t fair,” I whine to Conner.
He grins down at me. “What a word-I’m-not-allowed-to-say, eh?”
“I’m gonna get you back for that.” I push myself up and grab an armful of toys off the floor.
“Yeah? When do you plan to do that?”
I shrug. “If I tell you, it won’t be as fun, will it?”
“I thought you hated surprises.”
“I hate surprises when you do them. I like my surprises just fine.” I steal a piece of candy from the packet and pop it into my mouth.
“Hey!”
“What? I’m tidying.” I throw a talking Peppa into the box to prove my point.
“No. I want a piece.” He holds his mouth open.
I smirk and step forward, but Mila beats me to it.
“Here go.” She pulls a piece from her mouth and sets it on Conner’s tongue.
I cover my mouth with my hand and bite down on my lip.
“Did she just do what I think she did?” he asks thickly, not chewing.
I crouch down and burst into laughter. Conner sets Mila down on the floor with the packet and takes the offending candy from his mouth. He holds it up and stares at it.
“Toddlers are disgusting.”
I wipe a tear from under my eye and look up at him. He looks completely horrified, like the possibility of Mila “sharing” her candy like that never occurred to him. Forgetting whatever it was I was about to say, I laugh again and fall back onto my ass.
“I think we’re even,” he states, strolling from the room. I hear the lid of the trash can open and shut, then he comes back in.
I throw George Pig at him, my laughter under control. Kinda. “No, that was all Mila. That was nothing to do with me.”
“Sofie, our daughter just gave me her half-chewed candy. On my tongue.” He pokes it out, like I’ve forgotten what his tongue is.
Like that’s possible.
“I fail to understand what you want me to do about it.” I stand, much calmer now, and put yet more toys away.
“I don’t know. Is it punishable by naughty step?”
I turn to him and pat his cheek. “Anything that makes me laugh that much is never punishable. I’m pretty sure it earns her a reward, actually.”
He frowns. “I’m never buying her candy again.”
I call bullshit. Super-mega-bullshit. He buys her candy all the time—he just thinks I don’t notice. He’s as bad as his dad with the damn cookies.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?”
I stretch back on the sofa, ignoring the crushed chips on the rug still—and, ew. “Mila. Stop sticking Bunna’s ears together with your candy! Yuck!” I scramble for the baby wipes and expertly free Bunna’s ears.
Conner blinks. “Mila, that’s vile.”
She giggles.
I roll my eyes, throw the sticky baby wipe in the trash can at the end of the sofa, and turn on the TV.
“Well?” Conner prompts.
“I’m doing the same thing I do every night,” I answer him, flicking through the channels. “I’m cooking Mila her dinner, bathing her, then putting her to bed. Then I’ll open a bottle of wine and watch mind-numbing television all night. Probably eat some cake, too.”
I worked out this morning. I’m allowed.
“Nah, you’re not.” He lifts my legs and sits on the sofa.
“What do you mean I’m not?”
He rests my feet on his lap. “Let’s go for dinner.”
“Oh, because that went so well last time.”
“We’ll go to a real restaurant this time. Where they won’t bother us so much.”
I sit up. “Are you askin’ me on a date?”