Suzanne McMinn - Make Room For Mommy

He yawned, staring at his daughter quizzically. Although he had no idea what time it was, he was sure it was early.

Too early for Maggie to be at his house.

“Come on, Daddy,” Brandy said, tugging on his arm. She cocked her head to the side. “Did you forget Maggie said she was coming over this morning to help me with my costume for the play?” she asked.

He had forgotten. He glanced down at his blue striped pajamas.

“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” he told her as he stood, his joints rebelling as he stretched to his full height. “And get dressed,” he instructed Brandy, noticing that she still wore her lace-edged flannel nightgown, bare toes peeping out below.

After treating his tired muscles to a shower that went by all too fast, and donning jeans and a thick, comfortable sweater, Ryan emerged into the hallway, tempted both by the rich aroma of coffee and the musical sounds of high-pitched laughter.

Turning the corner into the living room, Ryan found Brandy draped with a huge swatch of velvety forest green material while Maggie stood back, studying her, pins clenched between her teeth. A cup of steaming coffee rested on a nearby end table.

“Daddy!” Brandy squealed, spotting her father. “Look at me. I’m going to look like a real flower!”

Maggie turned and smiled tentatively at Ryan. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him, especially after discovering that her arrival had woken him up.

“Hi,” she said, removing the pins from her mouth. She could see Ryan had only recently emerged from a shower, his dark hair curling damply around the back of his sweater collar. He smelted lightly of musk—appealing and masculine. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of making coffee in your kitchen. I brought doughnuts.” She nodded to the dining room table, where a paper carton of glazed doughnuts waited.

“Actually, coffee sounds great right about now,” Ryan told her, his voice softly neutral. “It was a long night. Thanks.”

Maggie wondered what he was referring to, but hesitated to ask. The last time they’d strayed to a personal topic, she’d gotten her head bitten off. She wasn’t in any hurry to repeat the experience.

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