Even the Score(35)

“We are”—she nodded as she handed me the basket—“Mr. Shaw.”

I rolled my eyes as I bent down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” I turned back toward the kids, hoping they were as excited as I was. Becca’s head was leaning against the chair back as she yawned, and Logan’s head rested in his arms on the island. “You guys look like zombies! Come on, follow me.” I walked over to the sliding glass door that led to the backyard.

“Out there? In our pajamas?” Logan asked incredulously.

“What are you, the pajama police? Come on!” I teased as I waved my arm on my way out into the yard. Becca slowly climbed down from the chair, and they followed me out to the yard.

I walked across the large wooden deck, down the steps, and across the grass.

“Where are we going?” Logan called out.

“The grass is still wet,” Becca whined.

“Come on, you big babies!” I made my way over to the huge tree in the back corner of our yard. When Blaire and I split, I was originally going to keep the ridiculously oversized castle-style house she’d had us build years ago, but it was cold and impersonal, just like her, so it seemed fitting that I let her have it. Instead, I bought the perfect house for us a couple of towns over, in a quieter, more family-friendly suburb, but still close enough for me to not spend three hours in the car driving to and from work each day. The must-haves for me were a fantastic first floor in-law arrangement for Gloria and a huge backyard for me and the kids.

Blaire hated the outdoors, so we’d never spent any time outside in the other house. The day I closed on this house, Logan, Becca, and I pitched a tent in the backyard and camped out. The next week, I hired a carpenter and we built a tree house. The perfect tree house . . . with real wooden slats nailed to the trunk as a ladder, a sturdy platform, a couple of windows, and a roof to keep it all dry. The rest of the decorating was up to their imaginations.

I stopped at the base of the tree and turned to face them. “Ta-da!”

“This is it?” Logan raised his eyebrows and glanced up at the tree, trailing his eyes back down to me.

“Yep, this is it,” I said proudly. “Come on up.” Swinging the handle of the basket over one arm, I turned around and started climbing the rungs up the tree. As I got to the top, I turned and looked down at Logan and Becca, who were both standing with their hands on their hips, staring up at me like I was crazy.

“Are you gonna stand down there all day, or are you gonna come up here and help me eat Gloria’s famous cinnamon rolls?” I called down to them.

When they heard what was in the basket, they practically crawled over the top of each other to get up the ladder as fast as they could. After the kids had gone to bed the night before, while Gloria started sweating over her made-from-scratch cinnamon-roll recipe that she usually saved for Christmas morning and other special occasions, I’d climbed up into the tree house, swept it real good, and laid out a soft blanket for us.

Once the kids were up and we were all seated, I opened the basket. As the smell of cinnamon floated out into the air, the three of us all closed our eyes and sniffed at the same time. Gloria’s cinnamon rolls were like heaven in food form. I set out the plates that she’d packed, then the cinnamon rolls, bacon, and the container of grapes. The kids wasted no time cramming fluffy pieces of cinnamon dough with warm, gooey icing into their mouths, and I wasn’t far behind.

After a few minutes of nothing but chewing noises coming from the kids, Logan set his cinnamon roll down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Dad, why did you do this?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t been able to hang with you guys as much as I’ve wanted to so far this summer, and now that I hired someone to help out, I thought it’d be fun to surprise you guys. Sometimes something simple like cinnamon rolls in a tree house is perfect. Just what the doctor ordered.”

Becca frowned at me as she licked a blob of icing off her lip. “What doctor?”

Logan, who was old enough to understand what I’d said, looked at her and chuckled before glancing up at me again. “I’m glad you did this, Dad. It’s fun. Can we do it again next week?”

I laughed out loud. “If you can talk Gloria into making cinnamon rolls again, I’m in!”



A while later as I was driving to work, I found myself thinking about how much time I’d been spending lately on picking out my suits and cologne in the morning. Having Danicka in the office was . . . different. Working with a woman was no big deal to me, I’d had Ellie with me for a few years now, but something about Danicka made me want to try a little harder.