He rolled to his back and went up on a hand, looking toward the foot of the bed.
He felt Elle get up on her elbow.
Then he heard her gasp.
“Morning!” Sally, who was on her knees at the end of the bed holding a struggling Blackie in her arms, shouted.
“Oh my God,” Elle whispered, her body locking.
“When can we have pancakes?” Sally asked Elle, showing no reaction in the slightest that she was disturbed she’d found Prentice in Elle’s bed.
Elle emitted a strangled noise.
Prentice bit back laughter.
Instead of laughing, to Sally he muttered, “Come here, baby.”
Elle jerked in surprise at his words but Sally released Blackie without delay and crawled up Prentice’s body.
Sally had been doing this nearly every Saturday and Sunday (and other days besides) for as long as she could climb on his bed.
As Sally moved, Prentice laid back at the same time he pushed an arm under Elle’s body and curled her around so her front was pressed to his side. Then his arm locked and his fingers curved securely at her waist, holding her to him. His other arm went around his daughter as she collapsed on his chest.
“Are we going to have pancakes?” Sally asked him.
“In awhile,” Prentice answered.
Sally looked at Elle. “Can I have choco-chips in mine?”
Elle was up on an elbow, her other hand pushing against Prentice’s chest, her h*ps unsuccessfully resisting his hold, her horrified eyes were on Sally.
“I… erm, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
“Blueberries?” Sally enquired, tilting her head so she could rest her cheek on Prentice’s chest but her eyes were still on Elle.
Suddenly, Elle’s body ceased its resistance and her face grew soft. For a moment, she simply gazed at Sally.
Then she replied in a tone as soft as her face, “You can have blueberries.”
It was then Sally reached out and stroked Elle’s hair. At his daughter’s touch, Elle’s eyes slowly closed and Prentice’s heart clutched at the look of longing exposed on her beautiful face.
Isabella Evangelista was the woman that everyone thought had everything.
Seeing that look, Prentice realized she had a handful of good friends.
And, as far as he could tell, not one f**king thing else.
“You have pretty hair,” Sally whispered, still stroking Elle’s hair.
Elle’s eyes opened. Her hand at Prentice’s chest lifted, her fingers caught a lock of Sally’s hair and started twisting it.
“So do you, Sally.”
Prentice felt like he’d become invisible. He didn’t mind, not even a little.
He let them have their moment then Prentice gave his daughter a squeeze and said, “Go watch telly, baby. Let Daddy and Elle sleep in awhile.”
Sally stopped stroking Elle’s hair, her head darted up to look at him and Elle’s body went solid again.