The Storm

Chapter 23

Thank God I'm the owner of this restaurant. Otherwise this would've cost me Millions. I mean, it still did, but that was company money. Not that I wouldn't spend billions for Sierra in a heartbeat.

Okay, let's be honest...I'd be more likely to spend my entire money on my daughter because I, and that I do admit, might have spoiled them a little too much.

Nope. Nah. I can't admit that. There's no such thing as "I spoiled them too much." Clearly that's a concept Sierra made up to make me feel bad.

As we walk outside, one after the other the little sidewalk lanterns turn on with every step we take. That shit cost me almost a hundred grand.

I hear Sierra gasp softly beside me, her grip around my hand tightening. The farther we walk, the more bushes of roses come in view. Until eventually, the outside stage that's means for live-music lights up.

It's covered in what seems to be a million rose pedals and, of course, bouquets too. I couldn't possible get away with wasting roses without having at least a bouquet of them for my wife.

Allie and Vienna are standing on the stage, waving at us. They're both grinning widely.

Just as Sierra wants to wave back, Allie grabs the little microphone and catches even more of our attention. "Mommy, I have a song for you."

Sierra looks at me with so many questions lingering in her head, I almost start to laugh. But what I do instead is, I push her forward so I'd stay behind and wrap my arm around my wife, one hand resting on her belly.

Allie so desperately wanted to sing us a song. It was her "contact requirement" for playing along. Her payment, if you will. And yes, she requested it herself.

As much as listening to a toddler sing sucks, it's kind of what you have to do as a parent. And god, do children love to sing.

Neither Sierra nor I have ever had it in us to stop either of our daughters. It's not exactly kind anyway. We refuse to be the reason of any insecurities of our children. And repetitively pointing out flaws will lead to them.

So yeah, even if our ears might start to bleed having to listen to the soundtrack of Moana sung by a three years old Allie, totally off-key, we'll sit through it.

I lean down to Sierra's ear just as Allie starts to sing and Vienna begins to dance in the background. More or less dancing. She's running in circles, basically.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," I whisper into her ear, then plant a kiss right behind it.

Feeling Sierra inhale sharply, I have to press my lips together to suppress a smile. I kind of knew she'd forget, but it's alright. Sierra has a lot on her mind recently, especially with the letter from her mother that's been lying on her nightstand for months, begging her to be read.

"Atlas..." she says in a sad tone. "I'm sorry, I—"

I chuckle, turning her head enough for me to kiss her lips. "I know, sweetheart. It's alright, I promise."

Sierra turns her head back around after giving me a soft smile. She knows very well if she doesn't have her eyes on Allie, she will most definitely be difficult to get into bed later. Yeah, our first-born is a bit dramatic like that. If she doesn't get attention when she's obviously asking for it, she is very likely to let her anger out that same night.

Now guess who Sierra blames that on. Right. Me "and my attitude."

As soon as Allie finishes her song—thank god—Vienna and her run off the stage, picking up four little gift bags on their way over to us, just like we've practice. They had them over to me, now patiently, or half-patiently waiting to see what's inside of them.