Squeak

Daddy Daughter Date

Erik

"How is that cotton candy, Squirt?"

"Dericious," she mumbled around the fluffy treat. I chuckled and reached for my buzzing cell phone in my pocket. It was Jezebel texting me from the burner phone I left behind for her.

Wife: Really? A sticky note?

I grinned and texted her back.

Erik: What does it say?

Wife: Daddy Daughter Date. No Mommies aloud.

Wife: You spelled "allowed" wrong, you nitwit.

Shit. I did.

Erik: Izabel wrote it.

Wife: I'd almost believe it, but you're the only one I know who writes in all caps. What have y'all been up to?

Erik: We went on a tour of the Neuschwanstein Castle. It was both informative and enjoyable. I decided we'd pass on the Hitler and the Third Reich tour.

Wife: Good call.

Erik: Currently, we're at a playscape eating cotton candy. We plan to go shopping before returning to the hotel because Squirt wants to be twins.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips when Jezebel responded with a crying and heart emoji.

Wife: Izabel loves it when we match. Welcome to the club. Make sure you send pictures.

"Squirt."

"Hm?" she hummed, giving me her attention. I quickly snapped a photo and sent it to Jezebel. "Can you hold my cotton candy while I go play?"

"I can't promise it'll be here when it returns."

Izabel's eyebrows joined together. "Why not? Where will it be?"

"In my stomach."

"Never mind," she huffed, shaking her head. "I can slide and hold my candy."

I laughed, "I'm just messing with you. Your cotton candy is safe with me. You can trust me."

"Can I?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"We can pinky promise on it," I offered.

"Daddy Erik, you can't pinky promise unless you really mean it."

"What happens if I break a pinky promise?"

She shrugged. "Papa King says you go to Hell."

Good thing I'm already heading there.

"I think Papa King is exaggerating a little, but I promise I won't eat your cotton candy. Go play." That little promise was enough to send her flying towards the slide. "Be careful!" I shouted. The words had barely left my mouth when Izabel tripped and ate dirt. "Walk it off, Squirt!" With the encouragement, she pulled herself to her feet, dusted herself off, and speedwalked towards the slide.

Erik: What are you doing? Letting Elliot play grab-ass with you?

Wife: That's exactly what I'm doing. How did you know?

Erik: I'll kill you.

Wife: Make it slow.

I rolled my eyes.

She takes all the fucking fun out of threatening her.

Wife: Attachment

I snickered when I opened the attachment. It was a selfie of Jezebel and my mother, who was reclined in a dental chair with a mouth prop in her mouth.