He got that.
He just had to go gentle.
At the same time she had to find it in her to suck it up.
When he talked to his girls, he noted she found that in her. The conversation wasn’t long, it happened while they were putting together a late lunch, and all he got from Millie were some sweet smiles, and after he disconnected, a hug and a murmured, “You’re cute with them.”
He wasn’t cute with them.
He was a father with two daughters.
That was it.
Millie thought it was cute, though, and he’d roll with that.
While talking to them, he made plans to take them to dinner the next night. He’d also talked to Millie about it. She wouldn’t be there and she’d agreed that was the way to go. He wasn’t going to spring her on his girls. Not like that.
He also wasn’t going to delay. Cleo and Zadie would learn about Millie the next night and they’d meet her soon after.
They were going to have to suck it up, too, or at least Zadie was.
There was not much that was shit about being a dad.
But the part where you had to teach your kids that life could throw curveballs and you had to dig deep to find it in you to adjust was a part of that shit.
There was no getting around it.
And his baby girl was about to face a curveball, so it was his job to guide her to learn how to adjust, take the strike but keep her head up, or better, face it and hit it out of the park.
After lunch, life intruded and High experienced more contradictory emotions, hating the fuck out of it at the same time feeling it was good they were facing it.
This being him leaving to hit a store so they had more food (or, Millie actually was stocked up since her cupboards were seriously lacking) and Millie telling him she had to hit her desk to get some shit sorted. She also had to unpack.
She had a business and she’d been away. He’d had to let that slide.
So he went to the store, bought everything they could need or want, came back, lugged the shit in, and put it away. She did some time at her desk. Then he did some time hanging in the bathroom with her while she unpacked and started laundry.
After that, they settled in for TV, took a break to make dinner, ate it in front of the TV, and then catastrophe struck her program that he was watching because that’s what she wanted but the thing did nothing for him. It was a bunch of uppity folks (even the servants were uppity) wearing old clothes and talking in British accents.
Even when the pretty brunette bought it, it still did nothing for him.
So he went to his voicemail and listened to Tack.
“I get that you’re needin’ to focus, brother,” Tack said in his ear, “but as you know, we got shit to discuss. You’re out of it for now, but that don’t mean we don’t need to go over it with you. So we got a meet at the Compound tomorrow mornin’ at nine. Need your ass there, High. Hate to drag you away from what’s goin’ down, ’specially if you’re sortin’ things with Millie, but you know it’s gotta be done. Especially for Millie. See you there.”
High hit the button to turn off his phone, not knowing what the fuck Tack was talking about.
Especially for Millie.
What did that shit mean?
He looked to Millie.
“Babe,” he called.
She waved a hand at him, not tearing her eyes from the screen.
“Shh!” she hissed, sniffled, then wailed, “Oh, Tom!”
Fuck, she was cute.
And with that cute right there, sitting next to him, weeping for some fictional people who never fucking existed, High decided he’d find out what Tack was talking about at the meeting tomorrow morning.
Right then, he was going to be with his girl.
So he reached out a hand, caught her at her neck, and pulled her to him as he slouched deeper into the corner of her couch.
She adjusted immediately, curling into him as she curled her legs up beside her on the seat.
“You do know we’re watchin’ somethin’ else after this,” he told her, to which he felt her body go solid.
She then barked, “Xbox, pause.” The show paused and she lifted up and twisted to him.
“We are not.”
“Millie, you’re bawlin’ your eyes out. This program sucks.”
“It’s brilliant,” she declared.
“You’re bawlin’ your eyes out,” he repeated.
“The hallmark of good writing,” she returned.
He stared at her, mouth twitching.
He didn’t forget. Not any of it. Not any of her.
Including the fact that if she had a choice between a comedy or a drama or something that would send her over the edge and have her sobbing uncontrollably, she’d always pick the last.
Shit, he’d sat through Steel Magnolias three times and Terms of Endearment four. The bitches in those movies died seven times collectively and Millie blubbered each time like it was the first time she saw it and she didn’t see it coming.
And he’d sat through that because she snuggled deep when he did.
“Whatever,” he muttered as his cue he was giving in.
“Can I go back to Downton Abbey now?” she asked.
“Have at it,” he invited.
She grinned at him and he studied her, thinking he had not been wrong with what he threw in her face weeks ago.
His girl was the prettiest crier ever.
However, he liked this best of all, her grinning at him with wet cheeks because she got her way and that was because he gave it to her.
So she turned to the TV, called, “Xbox, play.” The action started again and he pulled her deeper into him.
She snuggled even closer.
Then High watched a show he gave not that first shit about.