Chapter 12

The morning in Seattle rolls in with what many say is the usual mix of drizzle and fog, just another day where the sun seems to hit the snooze button. I know I used to complain about Florida. The constant sweating and unending sun, but now. I think I miss it all.

Waking up to the sound of rain against the window is becoming my new normal. It sets a certain kind of slow-paced mood that makes me want to stay in bed just a bit longer.

Not that I can do it. Myra has to head to school, and I need to start my daily workout.

I get out of bed and head straight to Myra's room, wishing Indie was here to help us with her clothes and maybe her hair. The videos she sent me last night weren't enough to teach me how to make her hair beautiful like a princess.

Opening Myra's bedroom door gently, I see her there, asleep, completely oblivious to the world outside. "Myra," I say, not too loudly, hoping to ease her into waking up rather than jolting her awake. "Time to get up, kiddo."

She stirs a bit, one of those half-asleep, half-awake moments where you know she's trying to decide whether to go back to dreaming or face the day. I can't blame her; I feel the same most mornings.

"Daddy?" Her voice is the softest murmur, thick with sleep.

"Morning. Are you ready to start the day, sweet pea?" I offer a hopeful smile to ease her day.

"Five more minutes," Myra's voice is still thick with sleep as she sees me standing there, a break from our usual weekend-only mornings together.

"Sorry, but it's time to leave the bed and get dressed, pumpkin." I try to make my tone encouraging, but not overly pushy.

She blinks the sleep away, slowly swings her legs out from under the covers, and pads over to her closet. That's when I spot it—the favorite yellow dress she's reaching for. It's more suited for a sunny day in the park than a rainy walk to school. Before she even holds it up, I know where this is heading.

"I wanna wear this one, Daddy," she declares, pulling the dress out with enough enthusiasm that I fear she might break into a song like a cartoon princess. "With my sparkling sandals."

The dress is adorable, just like my child. But definitely not something she should wear. Not with the weather we're having today. Kneeling to her level, I prepare myself for a bit of a battle. "Looks like it's pretty wet and chilly out today. How about we pick something different, warmer, and you can rock that dress another day? We could even make it a special outfit for a special event. Maybe a fancy dinner?" I suggest, hoping we can compromise and go get breakfast.

She looks from the dress to the window, weighing her options. I can tell she's considering it. But suddenly she shakes her head. Myra smiles and clutches the dress close to her body. "I really want this one," she insists, giving me a challenging glare.

I try to recall the way Indie convinced her to wear appropriate clothes for the weather without having a big argument.

"How about this," I ventured cautiously, "you can wear the dress, but we add some layers—like leggings and a sweater over it. It's cold and rainy, and we don't want you to get sick, right?"

Myra gives me that look, holding tight to her dress, her stance all set for a standoff. "But I just wanna wear this," she shoots back, her voice edging up. I can see the tantrum brewing just behind her eyes. "If we were in Florida, you'd let me."

Hearing that makes me feel like a failure. Did I make a mistake when I decided to come to Seattle? It seemed like a solid choice. The private school she's going to is one of the best in the country. The contract I signed is worth millions and I'm thousands of miles away from my mother. This time I know she won't ask me to relocate her with us—since it seems I chose a shitty place to live.

"Listen, we're in Seattle and we both need to adjust to the changes," I state as calmly as I can. I don't even know how to sound sweet, but I hope I can muster something. "I miss Florida, just as much as I miss Winnipeg surprisingly, and . . . Well, all the states I lived in since before you were born. But it's okay because I know the new place will be just as amazing, even when it's different."

She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. "I don't like it here."

The negotiation feels more like a high-stakes diplomacy than a morning routine. "Look, pumpkin, I promise to take you to more places, so you learn to like it. For now, we have to focus on getting you ready for school and wearing the dress alone isn't an option today." I pause and head to her closet where I grab a sweater and then find a pair of black leggings in her drawers. "But wearing it with leggings and your sweater? That's like being a superhero who's ready for anything. Super Myra, brave enough to face the rain and still shine. How about that?" I tried to infuse my voice with as much excitement as possible.

There's a beat where everything hangs in the balance, then I see her grip on the dress relax a bit. "Can I pick the leggings and sweater?" she bargains. Myra points at the ones I pulled out. "Those are ugly."

"Yes, of course," I say, sighing with relief and putting them back where they belong. "You can choose any leggings and sweater you want."

Picking out the layers turns into its own saga. She wants fall colors because fall is coming and she wants to match with the pumpkins. Fortunately, I found an oversized sweatshirt from last Halloween that she got from . . . Well, I can't even remember. And unfortunately, she can't find leggings that look pretty so she keeps the black ones. She does make me promise that I'll give Indie money to buy her new outfits for tomorrow.

At least, we find our middle ground. Watching Myra spin around, happy as can be in her layered outfit, feels like a win. All the back and forth? Worth it to see her smile. With the wardrobe crisis handled, our next adventure is arguably less contentious but equally important—breakfast. "Alright pumpkin, you ready to have some scrambled eggs with extra bacon?" I throw out there, aiming to keep the peace rolling.

Her mood flips completely at the idea, any leftover grumps gone. "Yes, can we have strawberries too?" she chimes in.

"Sounds like a plan. Strawberries it is," I agree, and we head down to the kitchen. Moving from her room, down the stairs into the kitchen feels routine, it's nothing compared to the battle we just had, I just hope that when we start preparing the food she doesn't change her mind.

The kitchen looks perfect, just like we left it last night. I pull out what we need from the fridge—eggs, bacon, and spot the strawberries on the counter. Myra drags the small stool and sets it by the counter. I hand her the whisk. "I think you're ready to be on egg cracking and whisking duty."

She straightens her back and smiles at me. "Okay. Indie taught me how yesterday."

Myra carefully taps the first egg on the edge of the bowl. It cracks open perfectly, no shell bits in sight, and she beams up at me, proud. "I did it. You should take a picture of me and send it to Indie."

"You sure did," I praise her, as she cracks another, getting ready to whisk them together. I snap a quick picture with my phone for later and begin to put the pans on top of the stove.

Soon enough I've got bacon strips sizzling away in the pan, the kitchen filling with that unbeatable breakfast aroma.

"Eggs are all whipped and ready," Myra reports proudly, offering up the bowl.

I sprinkle in some pepper, salt, and a splash of milk, giving it one final whisk for good measure. Once they hit the pan, I turn the heat down low to keep things moving slow. Gotta wait for that bacon to crisp up perfectly first before we dive in. After both are plated, we tackle the fruit course—washing and slicing strawberries together. Well, Myra washes and I cut.

Before we know it, we're eating fluffy eggs, bacon brittle, and fresh sweet strawberry slices. We grab our seats and Myra dives into her plate right away.

Seeing her so happy, I can't help but smile and think this is worth sharing with Indie. I grab my phone and shoot her a quick text with the picture of Myra cracking the eggs. After all, she's the one who said that this would be a favor to me, and I think it was.

Ty: You wouldn't believe the negotiation standoff I had with Myra this morning over her outfit choice. It's turned into a summit about weather-appropriate clothing versus summer dresses. Plus she convinced me to give you money so you can buy her leggings because she only has ugly colors.

Almost instantly, my phone buzzes with Indie's reply:

Indie: She does like her dresses and skirts. How'd you manage to smooth things over?

Ty: It was a pretty tough negotiation, but I can say layering for the win. Also, I need to take her to some fancy place where she can wear just the dress.

Indie: So you bribed her with dinner and clothes. Wow, I don't know what to say. I mean you did win, but did you? I'll see what I can do with the leggings. And don't forget to do her hair into a pretty updo.

Ty: You're killing me here, Indie. What if I find her a hat instead?

Indie: Nope, this is the last thing you have to do. Think of it as a quest. To finish it you have to fix her hair and take her to school.

Ty: What's my prize?

Indie: The satisfaction of knowing you spent quality time with your child. Those are moments she'll cherish when she's older. I still remember those days when Dad would braid my hair before school and drive me and my siblings along.

Ty: I guess that's something I've never considered. It's so hard to do it during the season.

Indie: You can always find the time. Now, I'm going to continue enjoying my morning tea before I start my day.

Ty: Fine, but we're seeing you later today, right? I have a game.

Indie: I'll be there, don't worry about it.

But I'm pretty concerned. Not that she won't come, but that I'm smiling like an idiot after putting down the phone.