back to her room in a hurry.
I followed her, helping her pull on her tennis shoes and then a hat and gloves. We found her jacket in the hall closet and put that on next. Then, we grabbed her backpack and the lunch that my mom had made for her the night before. Thank God for that.
“I’m ready! Tell me now!”
“Once we’re in the car.”
She huffed exaggeratedly and flopped down on the ground. Aly was a wonderful kid, but she was still a kid. And she threw a tantrum like a pro. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she started sobbing in the middle of the floor. I checked my watch. We were going to be late if we didn’t get moving.
“One,” I said quietly but firmly.
“Daddy, no!” she cried.
“Two.”
“Don’t do it,” she said, coming up to her feet. She wiped her tears and glared at me. “Don’t say it.”
I waited, wondering if I’d have to get to three. Waiting out her tantrums was such a nightmare. I’d never been prepared for the worst parts of parenting, but it wasn’t parenting if you didn’t get the good along with the bad. I should just be thankful that, more often than not, Aly was a dream kid.
“Are you better now?” I asked her.
She crossed her arms. “You’ll tell me in the car?”
I forced down the smile threatening to take over. “Once you’re in your seat.”
She grumbled and then followed me outside.
I buckled her into her car seat in the back, and then once I was in the front—thankfully with a few minutes to spare—I told her, “Peyton is going to come over to help us bake cookies later.”
Aly’s eyes widened to saucers. “Miss Peyton is coming here? The Sugar Plum Fairy can bake?”
I laughed as I drove us to her school, only a few blocks away. “Yes. Would you like that?”
“I’d love that. I love Miss Peyton. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I didn’t know what else to say. I let Aly ramble the remaining few blocks. Then, I parked out front of the school and unbuckled Aly. She gave me a big hug and kiss, her tantrum forgotten, before darting toward the entrance.
“Love you, Daddy!” she cried over her shoulder.
“Love you, Aly Cat,” I yelled back, knowing, one day, she’d find that embarrassing so I’d hold on to it as long as I could.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled away from the school. She’d had bigger meltdowns. In the early days, I’d had no idea how to even deal with them, but giving in usually only made it worse. Putting my foot down was much more difficult though. We’d both learned and grown through it.
The Wright Construction parking lot was empty on Friday morning, save for Morgan’s black Mercedes—she never took time off—and Jordan’s sleek silver Tesla Model S. He’d let me drive it once, and it was the most beautiful, unnerving ride I’d ever taken. It sat low to the ground, made practically no sound, , and jolted forward like a bucking bronco when I barely touched the accelerator. I’d known then and there that it wasn’t for me, but it was still gorgeous.
I headed inside and took the elevator up to my office. It was a large corner space on one of the top floors. I dropped my keys, wallet, and cell phone onto the desk and then powered on the computer. With the added soccer complex project on my desk, I’d never felt more behind. It would have been great to take this day off with the rest of the staff, but if Aly had a half-day, then I needed to use it to play catch-up.
I’d completely lost track of time when I heard a knock on my open office door.
“Hey, man. Didn’t anyone tell you that you had today off?” Jordan asked with a grin as he lounged against the doorframe.
“Someone might have mentioned it.”
“Are you as much of a workaholic as I am?”
I laughed. “No. I don’t think anyone is more of a workaholic than you. I just had to finish up all this paperwork for the soccer complex that I’d neglected to focus on. I didn’t want it looming over my head all Christmas break.”
Jordan nodded. “Seems reasonable.” He looked down at the Rolex on his wrist. “It’s almost noon. Do you want to grab some lunch before diving back into this?”
“Shit, is it really noon?” I checked the clock