Archive of Our Own

It was storming when everything finally came to a head. Grace had been complaining for the last few weeks about her hair- it’s too long, daddy, it gets in my face- and Dale had promised every time that they’d go to get it cut soon, honey, I promise. But life got busy, as it always did when you were a full time accountant and a full time single dad with a precocious four year old. He hadn’t yet gotten around to finding a salon that did children’s cuts, much less make an appointment. 

Then, the storm. It was one of those abrupt summer afternoon thunderstorms, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Grace hated thunderstorms, hated the thunder and the lightning and the fact that they were playing in the park when the bottom fell out of the sky didn’t help. She was screaming and crying and holding onto Dale as he scooped up their stuff into his backpack. He pulled her into his arms, trying his best to protect her from the rain by ducking his head over hers; but with the rain blowing sideways like it was, it didn’t do much good. 

The idea came, as most good ideas do when you have a four year old daughter, in a flash of quite literal lightning. 

A salon, situated nicely in the middle of a line of stores and restaurants, across the street from the park. Warm light shone from the inside and the sign proclaimed First Class Luxury Beauty Salon in bright pink neon. 

“Hey, Bug,” Dale shushed his daughter, running a hand gently through her damp hair until she peered up at him through her tears. “You know what I see? A princess salon!” Dale breathed a quick sigh of relief as Grace sniffled and quieted, peered up at him with wide, excited eyes. She’d been deep in her princess phase for the last year and a half, and it was Dale’s go-to way to get her excited about something new. “Do you want to get your hair done like a princess?” it was the perfect solution- hopefully the salon would distract Grace from the storm, and they could finally get her haircut like Dale had been meaning to do for what felt like months, now. 

Grace nodded, excitedly clutching at Dale’s jacket, and started rambling about her favorite princesses, trying to decide which one she wanted to look like. Dale murmured encouragingly, hurrying towards the salon and praying that they were slow enough that they could cut Gracie’s hair without an appointment. 

Grace was fully distracted by the time they burst through the doors, both of them soaking wet, punctuated by another clap of thunder- like they were the protagonists in a cheesy gothic horror movie from the fifties. 

There were two women chatting at the front desk who perked up immediately as Dale set Grace down on the floor and tried to wring his jacket out as politely as he could. 

“Uh, hi? I don’t know if you do kids’ cuts, but my daughter really needs a haircut and a-” another crash of thunder, which Grace frowned at through the window worriedly, holding onto Dale’s leg- “distraction from the storm?” He patted Grace on the head, trying for his most charming smile, knowing they probably looked a miserable mess- Grace’s hair in a raggedy braid from this morning, Dale himself in his lazy day off sweats, and both of them dripping rainwater onto the shiny linoleum floor. 

The two women at the desk- a receptionist and a stylist, if Dale had to guess- glanced at each other for a moment in silent conversation, before the shorter woman in a small pink apron stepped away from the desk with a smile. 

“I think I can manage a little trim,” She said to Dale with a conspiratorial wink, before dropping to one knee to get on Grace’s level. “Hey sweetie, my name’s Sofia, but you can call me Sofie.” She held out her hand to Grace with a shining smile. 

Grace reached out and shook Sofie’s hand. “Can you cut my hair like a princess?”

Sofie’s smile grew as she glanced between Dale and his daughter, nodding slightly. “Of course, sweetheart, I’d love to. What’s your name?”

“Grace. G-R-A-C-E.” She said proudly, letting go of Dale’s leg. 

Sofie raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Well it’s lovely to meet you, Grace. What kind of princess haircut were you thinking about?”

“Mulan!” Grace said excitedly- her current favorite princess. 

“Okay, awesome! Do you wanna come over to my station and I can see what I can do? I have a very cool chair that goes up and down, and your daddy can come with us.” Grace peered up at Dale, and he nodded encouragingly at her. Grace turned back to Sofia and nodded, biting at her lip in a nervous smile. “Okay, then!” Sofie got back to her feet and gestured Grace and Dale further into the salon. “Follow me, your highness.” Grace giggled obligingly and followed. 

Sofie’s station was tidy, a black faux-leather chair in front of a mirror on the wall, all of her tools spread out on the counter. There were a couple photos tucked into the edge of the mirror- Sofie with an older couple, likely her parents, a huge crowd of people with Sofie’s same dark hair and smiling eyes, a group of women holding margarita glasses mid-laughter. She lowered the chair as far down as it would go, and Dale helped Grace climb into it. When he turned around, Sofie was dragging another chair from the reception area over towards her station. 

“You can sit, if you want?” She said to Dale, patting the top of the chair. “I haven’t cut a bunch of kids’ hair, full transparency, but I know that some kids can get kind of nervous- especially if it's their first time in a salon, so I thought it’d be good if you were close.”

Dale appreciated the forethought. “Grace is usually pretty good about new people and new things, and she hasn’t had much trouble when I cut her nails, but she hasn’t had a real haircut in a couple years.”

“No problem, is there anything you want for her hair, Mr…?”

“Oh, Dale is fine. Uh, could we do something shorter? Her hair is pretty thick and kind of unmanageable at this length for both of us, but I still do want to be able to put it up, because she doesn’t like to have it in her face all the time.”

Sofia nodded, tapping her finger against her chin in what was obviously an unconscious thinking habit. Dale found it unreasonably cute. “Got it. So, take some length off, maybe thin it a little so it’s not so heavy, anything else?”

Dale raised his hands in surrender, “You’re the expert here, ma’am, whatever you think is best.”

Sofie blushed slightly, tapping him on the shoulder. “Nuh-uh. Ma’am is for my mother, I’m too young for that.” She winked at him, and Dale felt a nervous buzzing in his stomach he hadn’t felt since, well, since Grace was born. 

Sofia was beautiful, there was no questioning that. Short, with wide hips and soft thighs and a skirt that clung to them perfectly. Perched on bright red heels, she stormed around the quiet salon with an easy, sharp smile. She whipped out a sparkly pink cape, and Dale smiled as Grace’s eyes widened. Sofie draped it over Grace’s shoulders, lifting her hair to one side in a practiced motion so she could snap the cape into place. “Alright, princess, you ready? Daddy’s right over there if you need him.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder towards Dale, grinning wide. “I’m not really a princess,” she told Sofie, giggling a little as Sofie gaped at her in the mirror, eyes boggling and mouth hanging open.

“Are you sure? You look like a princess to me!” Grace giggled louder, and Sofia shot Dale a smile as she grabbed her scissors off the counter. “Okay, Princess Grace.” Sofie pulled her comb through Grace’s still-damp hair, stopping a little below her shoulder. “How do we feel about this length? That’s about where Mulan cut her hair, right?” 

Grace nodded excitedly, watching rapt in the mirror as Sofie held her fingers against Grace’s hair to show where she was going to cut. “Yes! Yes! I’m gonna look like Mulan!” Sofie shot Dale a questioning look over her shoulder, silently asking his opinion and he held up hands in an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Daddy, I’m going to look like a real princess!” Grace leaned forward peering around Sofie to smile at her father, shaking with excitement.

“It’s going to look wonderful, honey,” Dale told her, raising his double thumbs up again. Sofie grinned at him, almost as excited-looking as Grace, and started combing through the rest of Grace’s hair. She asked her about Mulan’s movie and Grace’s other favorite princesses as she did, effortlessly keeping Grace chatting and distracted. 

Grace got a little nervous as Sofie was preparing to cut the first piece of hair, but Dale scooted his chair forward to catch his daughter’s hand. Sofie earnestly complimented how brave Grace was being, smoothing over any potential fear with a natural kind of ease that Dale couldn’t help but admire.

The rest of the haircut went fairly quickly, Sofie redirecting Grace’s attention back to safe topics of conversation whenever anxiety from the haircut or the storm outside crept onto her face. When they were done, Sofie spun Grace around a few times in the chair before pulling her close to the big mirror so she could see her full haircut, even pulling out a little hand mirror to show her the back. Grace gawked at her expression, pulling her tiny fingers through her hair and giggling when it stopped abruptly at her shoulders. 

“It’s so short!”

“Yeah, and it’s going to be a lot lighter and easier to handle when you go back to school, Bug, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Grace nodded absently, enraptured with running her hands through her hair over and over again; staring at it in the mirror. 

“Hey,” Sofie moved to lean against the counter, tilting her head and smiling at Grace with a conspiratorial look, “what do you think about letting me wash and style your hair, sweetie? I have really pretty smelling shampoos, and I’ll blow dry it just like a big girl, and style it so you look like a princess?”

Grace lit up like the sun. “Yeah!! Yeah, Daddy can I?” She asked plaintively, and who was Dale to deny her?

“Of course, Gracie, if Miss Sofie doesn’t mind. Remember to close your eyes while she’s washing your hair so the soap doesn’t get in your eyes.”

Grace rolled her eyes, and Sofie stifled a laugh in her hand. “Okay then, Grace, shall we go?” Sofie helped Grace down off the chair, lowering it down and offering her a hand- bent over into a bow like a fairytale prince, which sent Grace into a fit of excited laughter- before leading her towards the back of the salon. 

Dale followed at a distance, enjoying the way Sofie chatted with Grace. A lot of people, Dale had noticed over the years, didn’t know how to talk to children. They either talked directly to Dale and ignored Grace entirely, or treated her like she was a baby. One memorable gentleman had literally said goo goo gah gah to Grace when she was three years old, and Grace had responded, daddy, what does that mean?

But Sofie didn’t talk down to Grace, and either had genuine interest in what she had to say, or was very good at pretending. She was calm and quick to distract her- Dale wondered whether that came from experience with children, or just experience as a hairdresser in general- and had an easy, infectious laugh.

Dale picked up and flipped through one of the magazines on the rack at the back of the salon, listening and smiling to himself as Sofie and Grace laughed and talked while she washed her hair. They came back out a few minutes later, Grace’s hair wet around her shoulders, and Sofie helped her settle back into the chair so she could blow dry her hair. 

By the time they were done, the sky was finally clearing up outside the salon, and it was almost dinner time.

“Daddy!” Grace called as she bounded out of Sofie’s chair, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Can I show Miss Sofie my Mulan dress? And my Cinderella dress? She says Cinderella is her favorite princess!” Dale laughed and patted Grace gently on the top of the head. 

“Maybe another day, Bug, right now we have to go home- Daddy’s gonna make pasta for dinner, remember?” Grace peeled away from Dale’s legs, frowning a little.

“But I wanna show Miss Sofie my Mulan dress.”

Dale glanced over at Sofie, who was standing at her station, quietly putting her tools away with a gentle smile on her face. “Maybe we’ll come back another day and show Miss Sofie your dress then, okay? You could even-” Dale lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper- “make her a thank you card. To say how much you like your haircut, huh?” Grace paused, clearly considering, before nodding. “That’s my girl.” Dale leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Grace’s head. “Now go tell Miss Sofie thank you, okay?”

Grace raced back towards Sofie and wrapped her arms around her legs, almost sending Sofie sprawling by the force of her hug. Dale shot her an apologetic grimace as Grace said, “Thank you miss Sofie! Daddy said I could come back and show you my princess dresses tomorrow.”

“Well-” 

“I would love that, Grace,” Sofie said, dislodging Grace enough to kneel down in front of her and pull her into a real hug. “You’ve been the light of my day here. You and your dad-” she looked at Dale over Grace’s shoulder with a wink- “are welcome to come in anytime, okay?”

“Mmkay!”

Dale reached down and took Grace’s hand, smiling gratefully at Sofie for the hundredth time that hour. “Okay, Grace, let's go up to the front so daddy can pay, alright? Say bye to miss Sofie.” 

“Bye miss Sofie!!”

“Bye, sweetheart,” Sofie echoed.

Dale led Grace back up to the front and paid at the front desk, being sure to leave a generous tip for Sofie. “She was wonderful,” he told the woman at the desk, “please give her all my thanks.”

“Of course, sir,” she answered with a knowing smile, “you and your daughter were adorable. We don’t get a lot of children or dads in here, but Sofia loves kids.” She winked. “And dads.” 

Dale tried to maintain his cool, silently raising his eyebrows at the woman’s comment, but he felt his face burst into flames. He glanced back into the salon, and caught a glimpse of Sofia touching up her lipstick in the mirror at her station. She turned just in time to catch his eye and waved slightly, a smile he couldn’t place on her face. 

“Uh. Right. Thank you.” The receptionist looked like she was about to burst into laughter, but didn’t say anything. “Have a good night.”

Dale all but dragged Grace back out of the salon, into the warm summer evening, and spent the rest of the night trying not to think about Sofie’s smile.

Sofie Bikes was good at her job. She was good with people, good at knowing when to talk and when to listen and when to work in silence. Good at telling when someone secretly hated their haircut or color, and when they deserved to walk around with a terrible hairdo for a couple days. 

For the most part, her days blended into a stream of work, customers, talking shit with her coworkers, being dragged to family dinners by her mother, and falling asleep alone in her apartment. There were the occasional highlights- terrible customers that gave her something to complain to her friends about, Mario and her dad getting into a screaming match at Thanksgiving, one of her cousins having another baby, the girls taking her out drinking- but despite what soap operas seemed to tell people, working at a hair salon was mostly cutting and dying the same people’s hair over and over again, feigning interest in the same stories about their mom or their cheating ex. 

Sofia liked kids, she liked when her cousins brought their squishy little babies to Christmas or when a hoard of Bicicleta toddlers started running around the yard, screaming and pushing each other over. It was sweet, and it reminded Sofie of her childhood, surrounded by all her cousins and half cousins and weird other children that she still wasn’t sure how she was related to. Her mom was always on her about settling down, starting a family. To Marie, Sofie was headed straight into spinster-dom at the ripe old age of 32, just because she wasn’t dating anyone. If her mother had her way, Sofie would’ve been married off at 24 to whatever good Italian American Staten Island boy Marie got her hands on first, and Sof would be saddled down with at least three kids by now. 

Sofie wasn’t opposed to marriage, or to kids someday; but she was one of the worst things a single woman in her thirties could be- a romantic. So she wanted to be swept off her feet, so what? She deserved that kind of whirlwind romance, even if Sofie wasn’t sure it ever actually happened in real life. 

Until the handsomest man she’d ever seen came stumbling into her salon, soaking wet from the storm, and shot her a heart-stopping smile. He was tall, with thick glasses that made him look smart, and a raggedy pair of sweatpants that had no right to make his legs look as good as they did. He was hot in the classical, fairytale prince kind of way; which wasn’t even really Sofie’s type. Until now, apparently. Sofia couldn’t even bring herself to mind that he was dripping all over her nice clean linoleum. And then her eyes dropped to the young kid huddled at his side, and her heart fell five stories. 

So much for fairytale romances, she thought morosely, before pulling up her cheeriest smile. 

The kid was actually very cute- like a tiny version of her dad, they had the same warm eyes and easy smile- and Sofie had a soft spot for little girls who were obsessed with princesses. She was the cool aunt that bought all her little cousins and nieces the really good princess dresses and did their hair all big and sparkly for their birthdays- it was one of the reasons she became a hairdresser. So how was she supposed to dislike this sweetheart of a kid just because her dad was hot and probably married?

Not that that stopped her from flirting with him, of course. It was a light, gentle kind of flirting- winks and smiles and shared looks of oh my god this kid over Grace’s head- the kind that didn’t really mean anything. It was just fun, and Dale was nice to look at, and Sofie liked how his face broke open when he smiled at her. 

Until Grace hugged her goodbye and waved brightly, still fingering the ends of her haircut- that was one of things Sofie really loved about her job, when people were so obviously delighted with their hair- and Dale caught her eye at the counter with Em. His face was red as he looked at her, wide eyed, obvious even from across the salon. It was… disturbingly endearing, even as he dragged his daughter out into the early evening sunlight. 

Shit. Sofia winced as she caught herself watching Dale and Grace through the windows as they walked down the street. Fuck. He’s probably married, Sofia, she told herself firmly, he’s got a kid. She shook her head, turned back to her mirror, and touched her lipstick again. 

On the bright side, the likelihood of seeing them again was small. She had a good group of regulars she worked with often, but the rest of her customers tended to be random people who wandered in off the street or found them online and never came back. Grace said she would come back to show Sofie her princess dresses, but Sof knew it was unlikely. People claimed a lot of things, especially dads of young kids who probably wouldn’t remember Sofia tomorrow. 

In a week, this appointment would become another customer story Sofie told her friends- there was this insanely hot dad that came into work the other day, with the sweetest little kid- and then would fade from her memory entirely. 

Or, it would have, if Dale and Grace hadn’t appeared back in Sofie’s salon the next day. Sofia was in the middle of tidying up her station after an appointment- trim and a root touch up with a regular who told her all the good gossip about her cousin who was in the mob- when the little bell on the door jingled. Sofie didn’t pay much attention to it, she didn’t have another scheduled appointment for an hour. She’d already told Em she was going to have her lunch before then, she wasn’t going to take a walk in; so Sofie frowned in surprise when she heard Em call for her up at the front. 

Sof brushed the little remaining hair off her apron and checked her ponytail in the mirror before leaving her station. She couldn’t help the smile of surprise when she saw a sheepish Dale and a thrilled Grace standing by Em’s desk. 

“Miss Sofie!” Grace cheered, rushing towards her and stopping a few steps away with a spin. “Look! My Mulan dress!” 

“Oh.” It was the green dress from the very beginning of the movie, complete with the little blue bodice and the red ribbon around her middle. Grace beamed up at her proudly, and Sofie couldn’t help but melt. “Sweetheart, you look just like a princess! Can you show me your spin again?” Grace obliged, and her father took a few steps forward, away from Em’s desk.

“She really wanted to come show you,” he explained. “I had to talk her down from bringing her Cinderella dress with us, I told her it probably wouldn’t fit you.” Sofie laughed, and it was worth it to see the last of the worry slough off Dale’s face. “I hope we’re not intruding or interrupting anything?”

“Oh, no, I just finished an appointment and was about to take my lunch, so you guys are great. I’m always happy to see my favorite princess,” Sofie added with a wink towards Grace.

“I’m your favorite?” She demanded, “What about Cinderella?”

“Well, I’ve never actually met Cinderella,” Sofie confessed. 

“Me neither,” Grace nodded sadly, “but daddy says maybe we’ll go to the place where all the princesses live someday.”

“Okay, Gracie,” Dale interrupted gently. “Why don’t we give Miss Sofie her card, and then let her go have her lunch? I’m sure she’s very hungry.” Grace nodded understandingly, snatching the card out of her father’s hand and shoving it towards Sofia. It was a piece of green construction paper, folded in half, covered with marker scribbles. “Can you wave bye to miss Sofie?”

“Bye!” Grace waved excitedly, which would have been adorable even if she hadn’t still been standing a mere foot and a half away from Sofia. 

Sofie grinned, waving back. “Bye, Princess Grace, thank you for my card.” Grace waved again, before bounding away. She got distracted by the rack of magazines by the door, peering at the image of Emily Blunt like maybe it would start talking to her if she looked hard enough. 

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Dale said, his voice low, and Sofie jumped a little when she realized he was still standing so close to her.

“Oh, of course. She’s wonderful.” Sofie watched Dale’s eyes land on Grace, standing by the door, the way his whole face softened. “You’ve got a great kid, Dale, and I meant it when I said you guys were welcome in any time.” She smirked a little as he turned back to look at her, eyebrows raised. “Maybe next time, I can see what I can do with that mess.” She waggled her finger towards his hair, damp from a shower and falling slightly into his eyes.

Dale blushed slightly, glancing down at his shoes, but nodded. “I am overdue for a trim,” he mused, running his hand through his hair. If there was one thing Sofie had learned from her years as a hairdresser, it was how to judge someone’s hair from just a glance- the texture, the weight, how dry or greasy it was; sometimes she could even tell what kind of products people were using. Dale had, in Sofie’s humble and unbiased opinion, the best kind of hair. Thick and coarse and naturally shiny; the kind of pin-straight hair she’d coveted in highschool, when she was still trying to figure out how to manage her own hair texture. She fought down the urge to run her fingers through it- a bad habit from being a hairdresser with mostly other hairdresser friends, and a family who didn’t care about personal space. He’s probably married, Sof, she reminded herself, he has a kid. Mind your manners.

She reached over and snatched one of her business cards off of Em’s desk and pressed it into Dale’s hand. “Call and make an appointment,” she said, hoping her voice sounded cool and professional, not like she was fighting the urge to bat her eyes at him. “You can even bring Grace, I think I have some kid-safe nail polish from when my niece was little; I could do a little daddy-daughter mani session. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Dale beamed at her, and something caught in Sofie’s chest at the full force of his smile. Probably married, probably married, she repeated in her mind like a mantra. 

“Yeah, Sofia, I think that’d be great.” He held up her business card. “I’ll call.”

“Right.” Sof nodded, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless. He was a customer, what was wrong with her? She needed to get laid worse than she thought if this was how she was going to act around a hot guy she barely knew. “You guys have a great afternoon.”

“You too!” Dale called, raising his hand- still holding her card- in a wave as he led Grace out the door, the tiny jingle of the bell heralding their departure.

A heavy silence hung over the salon as Sofie tried- and failed- not to watch them walk away. 

Finally, Em spoke, “Girl.”

“I know, I know.”  

“We’re getting drinks tonight, you need to get out.”

“Yeah, okay you’re right.” Sofie dropped her head onto Em’s desk, and her friend patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“You offered to paint their fingernails. We don’t even do that here.” Sofie groaned into her hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Sof? You did notice he wasn’t wearing a ring, right?”

Sofie whipped her head up. “What? Not even like- on a necklace or something?”

Em slowly shook her head with a smug smile. “Nope. Not even an indentation or a ring tan on his finger, I checked when he paid last night.”

“You looked for that?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of detective TV, sue me Sof, whatever.”

“He’s not married…” Sofie muttered.

“Maybe. He might still have a girlfriend, or a dead wife he’s heartbroken over, we don’t know.” Em’s voice was a warning, but Sofie knew her well enough to tell she was almost as excited as she was. Em was almost as bad as her mother when it came to trying to set Sofie up. “We’re still going for drinks, though.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Em rolled her eyes. “Go have your lunch, Sofie, and try not to daydream all moony-eyed over hottie McDad the whole time; you’ll scare away the tourists.”

“I’m not- eugh. Whatever.” Sofie turned and stomped away towards her station to grab her bag, trying not to smile the whole way there; if only to not give Em the satisfaction. 

Dale deliberated about making an appointment with Sofie far longer than he should have. He needed a haircut, she was a talented hairstylist he’d already formed a rapport with, he didn’t have to worry about finding a babysitter for Grace while he went. It was pretty straightforward. It shouldn’t matter that Sofie was beautiful and funny and got on with Grace like a house on fire- she was working; it was her job to make her customers comfortable, to make them feel special and cared for. It didn’t matter that sometimes the way she smiled at Dale, the winks she shot him, seemed… more than friendly. He was reading too much into something he wanted to be there but wasn’t. Something he hadn’t let himself think about or want in a long time. His life was busy, he was a single dad with a young daughter; there wasn’t a lot of time in his schedule for dating, even if anyone was interested. 

He called, he made the appointment, and he tried not to let himself dwell on whether Sofie sounded like she was smiling on the phone, or whether that was just her normal voice. 

When he told Grace that morning they were going to go see Miss Sofie at the salon so he could get his haircut, she spent thirty minutes longer than usual digging through her closet, trying to find the perfect princess dress to wear to impress Sofie. She also demanded that he do her ‘crazy hair’ which was something Dale had come up with a year ago when they both got bored of simple braids and pony tails- he tied her hair up in a bunch of tiny pig tails with little rubber bands and put barrettes and clips all over her head. Grace loved it.

Sofie laughed aloud when Grace came racing into the salon- crazy hair and poofy Belle princess dress and all- and accepted her tackling hug with open arms. She grinned at Dale as she stood back up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Right, so, what’re we thinking? Shave it all off?”

Grace shrieked in laughter. “No!! You can’t shave all of Daddy’s hair off!”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t, yeah,” Dale agreed, trying for composed and missing the mark by a mile. “Maybe shorten up the sides and trim the top a little? Give it some more shape?” Sofie nodded, eyes scanning Dale’s head like she was visualizing a new haircut. It was kind of brilliant and kind of terrifying and Dale prayed he wasn’t blushing under her scrutiny. 

“Yeah,” Sofie said after a moment, nodding again. “Yeah, I think we can do that. Come on back.” She gestured them back to her station, where a chair was already set up next to the stylist’s chair for Grace. It was surprisingly considerate; the way she’d obviously planned for Grace accompanying Dale to his appointment, the way she’d set up her station specially to help keep a four year old occupied and entertained. He glanced back at her in surprise when he sat down in the stylist’s chair and saw a handful of small, brightly colored nail polish bottles waiting in a neat line on Sofia’s counter. Daddy-daughter manicures, she’d mentioned, and Dale had thought she was joking or exaggerating; but it made his heart warm to think that she had taken time to find special kid-friendly nail polish, just so he and Grace could match.

“So...” Sofie said, dragging out the vowel as she pulled her fingers through Dale’s hair. He tried not to shiver at the contact- Jesus, he thought, how long has it been since anyone other than my mom or Grace has hugged me? “Thin out the sides and tidy up the top, yeah?” Dale nodded, trying not to jostle her hands as she marked out with her fingers where she was planning on cutting. She tugged at the hair on the top of his head, holding it straight out so she could measure its length. It was… weirdly attractive to watch Sofie scrutinize his hair in the mirror, mouthing silently to herself as she tapped her fingers against her hip while her other hand traced lines against Dale’s skull.

That, or he was becoming disconcertingly touch starved. 

Grace was perched in the other chair, fiddling with the doll she’d brought. She combed her fingers through its hair and pretended to cut it, clipping her pointer and middle fingers together like fake scissors; mimicking Sofie. It was adorable, and it made Dale abruptly realize how few female role models Grace had. Her grandparents visited when they could, but it was a long trip up to New York, and they couldn’t swing it more than a couple times a year. Dale had a handful of female coworkers and friends that Grace knew, but it wasn’t the same. He bit down on a grimace, watching her mutter to herself, curled up in the reception chair Sofia had dragged to her station. 

“Alright,” Sofie grinned at him, wielding her scissors in front of her. “Ready?” Dale nodded. 

He’d always liked haircuts, liked it when his dad would take him to the grown-up barber shop, liked how his hair felt sharp to the touch after the barber had cut it, liked watching the old fashioned shave they would do for old men in the corner; foaming suds on a little brush and a dangerous-looking straight razor. 

The salon Sofie worked in was different, obviously, but the energy was still there. People who’d been working there for years, cutting the hair of the same customers every month; the kind of community and camaraderie that always seemed to happen in old, local nail salons and barbershops. 

Sofie cut his hair like it was second nature, chatting easily with him and with Grace as she shuffled around his chair, snipping and shaving away. He caught glimpses of her face in the mirror: eyebrows furrowed with focus, laughing with Grace, catching his eye with a smirk. Dale wondered if she could hear his heartbeat in his throat. 

“How’re we feeling, handsome?” She asked eventually, putting down the electric razor she’d used to clean up the sides and his neck. Dale felt the back of his neck heat up at her praise. 

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, enjoying how smooth and neat it was under his palm. “No, yeah, I love it. Thank you, it’s perfect.” Sofia’s answering smile was smug and practiced- making something twist in the base of Dale’s gut. He always appreciated someone who knew what they were doing; there wasn’t anything more attractive than confidence, and Sofie had it in spades. 

“I’m glad,” she replied, and Dale could swear there was a hint of blush on her cheeks, the smallest bit of bashfulness under the satisfaction. There was a beat as the two of them watched each other, red faced and uncertain. The moment hung, and Dale thought for the first time that maybe there was a chance; that maybe Sofie felt the same electricity he did. 

And then she looked down, and clapped her hands together, and caught the eye of one of her coworkers. “Alrighty! So, my friend Becca is gonna help you wash out your hair in the back, while I help Miss Grace here pick out what color she wants her nails to be!” 

Dale nodded, and couldn’t even bring himself to regret that their moment had fallen apart, not when Grace was smiling up at Sofie with such excitement. Becca smiled at him knowingly, and led him to the back where Sofie had washed Grace’s hair after her cut a few weeks before. All the while, he could hear Grace giggling and chattering loudly with Sofie. 

When he came back out to the front of the salon, hair dripping wet with a towel draped over his shoulders, Grace came running up to him with her fingers splayed out in front of her. “Daddy, Daddy look at my fingers!” 

They were a sparkly pink color, surprisingly neatly painted- especially on a kid as wiggly and excited as Grace. Even Dale had a hard time getting her to sit and settle down at the best of times. He caught Sofie’s eye from where she was standing by the counter, putting away a sparkly pink bottle. Smiled at her, surprised and grateful, from over Grace’s head.

“They’re beautiful, Bug. Miss Sofie did a great job. Did you tell her thank you?” Grace nodded enthusiastically, still shoving her hands towards his face- in case he hadn’t gotten a good look the first time. “Okay, can you let me pass, Gracie, I need to sit back down so she can dry my hair.”

Grace shuffled out of his way, and trailed after Dale as he settled back into the salon chair at Sofia’s station. Sofie moved to stand behind him again, unwrapping the cord from around the base of a hair dryer. She dried his hair, running fingers of gel through it to shape the cut a little as Grace chatted amiably with Becca, voices drowned out for the most part by the whirr of the blow drier. 

“Alright,” Sofie said far too quickly, stepping away from his chair with her hands on her hips. “Look alright?”

“It looks great,” Dale said, honestly. (He probably would have told her it looked great, even if he walked away from her station looking like a rejected Asian member of the Beatles, but that was neither here nor there.) 

Sofia preened slightly, pursing her lips against what was clearly a smile as she turned to Grace, sitting in her little chair and tapping her pink fingernails eagerly against the arm rests. “What do we think, Gracie? Does your daddy look handsome?” His daughter whipped her head up, grinning wildly when she noticed Dale’s hair.

She bounded to her feet, standing in front of him and grabbing onto his knees, pushing them side to side so he swiveled slightly in the salon chair. “Yes!! Yes, wow daddy you look soooo handsome! Like a prince! Right, miss Sofie?” 

Dale caught Sofie’s small, fond smile in her reflection in the mirror as she smiled down at Grace over his shoulder. His stomach twisted a little with how good this woman was with his daughter immediately, how quickly they’d both come to trust her. “Yes, I think he looks just like a prince.” She swept into a graceful curtsy, somehow not tottering at all on her high heels. “Your highnesses.” 

She glanced up at Dale through the mirror, smiling through lowered eyelashes as she rose from her exaggerated bow. He smiled back, strangled and red-faced. He wasn’t used to being flirted with- not how Sofia did it, light and effortless and so casual he was always half-sure he was misreading her in one direction or the other. Most people saw him with Grace and assumed he was married, or at the least had some kind of partner he was raising his child with, and he was too busy most of the time to bother correcting them. Dale didn’t have any illusions about what kind of guy he was- smart, in the math kind of way that made him a dork in highschool before it was cool; polite in a way that read more neighborly than suave; handsome, in a buttoned up accountant way. He was a quiet homebody who liked simple things like deer and effective use of bureaucratic loopholes with a young daughter. There weren’t women lining up outside his doorway. 

Especially not stunning, clever, charming women like Sofia Bicicleta. 

It didn’t mean Dale didn’t daydream about it sometimes, especially when her eyes caught on him like that, red lips curved in a warm smile. 

“Miss Sofie?” Grace asked, and Dale ripped his eyes away from her reflection in the mirror, returning his focus to his daughter standing between his knees. “Are you going to paint daddy’s nails too? So we can match?”

“Oh- well, I don’t know if you daddy wants to get his nails painted,” Sofie answered, walking around his chair to face Gracie more head-on. “And he might have plans for you guys to go get dinner soon.”

Grace turned back to him, hands tightening on his knees as she frowned plaintively. “Daddy, I wanna match! Can Miss Sofie please paint your nails, too?”

“I-” he glanced between his daughter and Sofia- “I would love to get my nails painted, but I don’t know if Miss Sofie has another appointment soon, she might have to clean up?” He pitched his voice up at the end of the sentence, turning it into a question for Sofia. He didn’t want to impose on her generosity more than she was willing to give. 

“Not at all,” she said quickly, eagerly, “I even brought blue, because you said it was your daddy’s favorite color.”

“Yes!” Grace cheered, far too loudly for the small salon; but Dale couldn’t bring himself to mind, given the way Sofie was grinning down at her. “I’m gonna match my daddy!”

“Ok! Let me just-” Sofie’s hands brushed against the back of his neck as she unbuttoned the smock, shaking the hair off onto the floor. “I’ll clean all that up later, we have a daddy-daughter manicure to complete!”

“Mani-cure?” Grace echoed uncertainly, peering on her tiptoes to watch Sofie grab the nail polish off her counter. 

“Mmhmm,” Sofie nodded, smiling in thanks as her coworker Becca tugged a second chair over to Sofie’s station from the waiting area. “A manicure is the big grown up word for getting your nails painted. Look,” she waggled her own fingers in front of Grace’s face, long almond-shaped nails that came to a dull point, painted in a bright, shimmering purple. “My mommy and I went and got our nails painted together a couple weeks ago, just like you and your daddy.”

“Wow,” Grace breathed, ogling Sofia’s nails. “That’s so cool.”

Sofie grinned down at her, glancing briefly towards Dale with a wide-eyed smile. “Thank you! I like the color you picked, too. But what do we think?” She brandished the small bottle of sparkly blue polish. “Is this a good color?” She said, asking Dale and Grace at the same time. 

Grace nodded definitively, looking imperiously towards Dale, as though daring him to say otherwise, and who was he to argue with such a determined four year old? “It looks perfect,” he told Sofie, who winked at him before she twisted the cap open. He swallowed; it was a conspiratorial wink, a wink of understanding between two adults bending to the whims of a precocious child. It wasn’t- anything else. 

Even if he wanted it to be.

He kept the nail polish on for two weeks, long after it started to chip and peel off his nails, and smiled down at his hands everytime the glint of glitter caught his eye. Remembering Sofie’s warm, soft hands holding his, the way she bit her lip in concentration, leaning so close he could feel her breath against his knuckles as she worked to keep the polish even and tidy. He would flex his hand against the sense memory, trying to push it to the back of his mind. Tried not to think about holding Sofie’s hands under other circumstances, tracing the lines of her palm. (He failed.)

Sofie Bikes was not a quitter. Never had been, never would be. So when she woke up with a splitting headache and the inability to breathe out of her nose one morning, it did not stop her from going into work. Even after the headache turned into unrelenting nausea and the stuffy nose turned into a wheezing chest cold- every time she coughed she was half-terrified that she was going to end up vomiting all over the linoleum; which was not the best business model. Sofia was determined to make it through the day, however- she had five different appointments lined up, including a bride before her engagement party.

Or, more accurately, she planned on making it through the day, but an hour and five different coughing attacks into her shift, Em stumped up to her station with a glare that would stop a war. 

“Sofie Bikes, you are going home.”

“Wh- no, I’m fine, Em.”

“Do not argue with me, or I’ll call your mother and she can drag your sorry ass out of here.” Em raised an eyebrow in challenge and Sofia winced. She didn’t doubt both that Em would call her mother, and that Maria Bicicleta would show up at the salon and drag Sofie back to her parent’s house by the ear. And while the sound of her mother’s famous soup with stelline noodles and chicken and rosemary- just like she had as a child, all the Bicicletas swore that soup was better than real medicine- was enticing, she didn’t want to spend half a week cooped in her childhood bedroom, listening to her father yell at the soccer game on the TV and have her mother try to set her up with every nice Italian boy she met at the grocery store. 

Sofie scowled at Em, but acquiesced. “Fine.” 

“And if you have a fever tomorrow, don’t bother comin’ in then either-” Em held up a hand to staunch Sofie’s argument- “I will take your temperature at the door, do not try me, honey.” 

Sofie fought the urge to groan like a teenager. “Fine, Em, I get it. I’ll go home.”

“Good.” Her friend softened marginally, “You’ve gotta take care of yourself, baby.” She pushed a stray piece of hair off Sofie’s sweaty forehead; maybe she was more sick that she wanted to admit. “Get some sleep, eat some soup, watch some trashy daytime television, and I’ll tell the hot dad you’re on your deathbed if he comes in.”

“Em-” Sofie’s face flushed red. 

“Kidding! Mostly. Now go, babes, I’ll make sure your appointments get covered, kay?”

“Fine.” Sofie grabbed her bag from the cabinet at her station. “I hate you, know that?”

“Love you too, Sof.” Em blew her a kiss as Sofie shuffled out the door. She really did feel miserable, and she probably should stop at a diner or bodega and pick up something before she went back to her apartment, but Sofie couldn’t really muster the energy. It was like, as soon as Em had given her permission to feel shitty and go home, all of the mental blocks Sofie had built up against the ache in her head and the tightness in her chest came crashing down. 

She was shuffling down the sidewalk when she heard someone calling her name. At first, she thought it was Em- maybe she’d left something at the salon? Maybe she was actually going to call Sofia’s mother?- until she registered that it was a male voice. Sofie turned, frowning, but the unease in her chest faltered when she saw Dale and his daughter Grace walking up the sidewalk towards her. 

“Sofie?” Dale repeated, “It is you. Grace, can you say hi to miss Sofie?”

Grace beamed up at her, waving her arm in huge arcs, as though she was worried Sofie couldn’t see her- despite only being a few feet away. “Hiiiiii miss Sofie!!”

“Hi sweetheart,” Sofie said, wincing as her voice came out rough and scratchy. “Did you guys just come from the park?” Dale was carrying the same backpack he’d had the first afternoon they came into the salon, and Grace had muddy patches on the knees of her leggings, so it was a safe bet. 

Dale nodded, but there was a wrinkle of worry on his face. “Are you-” he scanned her face, and Sofie felt her cheeks heat up under his scrutiny; not in a bad or uncomfortable way, there was just something about the way that Dale looked at her that made Sofia feel like he was peeling away all her walls and layers, looking into the truth of her- “are you okay?”

Grace stomped up to Sofie, frowning in four-year-old concern. “You don’t look good, miss Sofie.”

Sofia breathed a little laugh at that, glancing between father and daughter. They were really startlingly similar- especially when they were both frowning at her in concern. Grace’s brow furrowed in the same way as her father’s- but what was adorable and precocious in the little girl was handsome on her father’s defined brow. She swallowed, suddenly aware of the fact that she’d stumbled into work in sweatpants and sneakers today, her hair thrown into a greasy bun- in retrospect, that was probably Em’s first red flag that something was wrong. “Oh, thank you?” She saw Dale wince out of the corner of her eye, but Grace was unfazed. 

“Are you sick, miss Sofie?”

“Honey-” Dale started to say, but Sofie waved him off. 

“A little bit, yeah.” Grace frowned deeper in the kind of heart-wrenching empathy that only small children could have. “But I’ll be okay, sweetie, I’m going to go home until I feel all better, maybe take a nap.”

Grace seemed to consider this while her father stepped forward and put a gentle hand on the top of his daughter’s head. He smiled at her- sympathy and an apology all at once. “You don’t live at the haircut place?” Grace asked, and Sofie laughed, shaking her head. “Well, you should come to my home, my daddy always makes soup for me when I’m sick- he can make some for you, too!” 

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m sure miss Sofie wants to go back to her house-”

“That’s okay, hun, your daddy doesn’t have to make anything for me-” Dale and Sofie said simultaneously, both of them freezing mid-sentence when they realized.

Grace glanced between them. “Do you have soup at your house?”

“Uh, no, but I don’t need-”

“How’re you gonna get better if you don’t have any soup?” Grace demanded, cutting her off. “Are you gonna be sick forever?”

“That’s not how that works, Bug,” Dale said gently. 

“But you always tell me I have to eat my soup or I won’t get better!” 

Dale looked up at Sofie, wide eyed, and she’d seen enough of her cousins with their children to know the expression of a parent trapped between a rock and a hard place. “Why don’t we compromise?” She asked.

“Uh, yes!” Dale’s face was stark with gratitude. “There’s a cafe I like a block from here, we can get Miss Sofie some soup there? And that way she can still go home and get better?” He pitched up the ends of his sentences, turning them into questions- subtly asking Sofie if that was okay, giving her an out if she wasn’t comfortable, while still compromising with his daughter. It was very charming. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Sofie managed, before launching into a coughing fit. When she finished, she smiled weakly, which didn’t do much to assuage Dale and Grace’s matching looks of worry. 

“Soup.” Grace said definitively, with an authoritative nod of her head. And there wasn’t much Sofie or Dale could do to argue with her.

The cafe was close- the kind of place Sofie always meant to stick her head into but had never had the chance. Dark wood and old brick walling, the kind of deep, rustic smell coming from the kitchens that meant this place had been serving the same food for years. 

“Do you have any allergies, or preferences?” Dale asked as they walked up to the counter. Grace stood between them, holding both of their hands and swinging their arms intermittently. 

Sofie shook her head, “What do you recommend?” 

“I usually get the broccoli and cheese, but I feel like that’s-”

“Not the best for congestion,” Sofie finished, nodding thoughtfully. 

“The chicken tortilla?” Dale suggested, “It’s pretty standard, but there’s some heat in the broth that could help. Their tea is really good too, the lemon one, probably…” Dale trailed off, muttering to himself. 

Sofie blinked, suddenly taken aback by how sweet and comfortable and domestic the whole scene was: she and Dale getting lunch, Grace between them, Dale muttering about what he wanted to order. It was almost like she could suddenly see a life like this, she and Dale and Grace.

And then Dale was stepping up to the counter and ordering- and buying soup for her-

“Wha- no, Dale, you don’t have to do that-”

“You’re sick, Sofia, I don’t mind-”

“No, I’m a grown woman, I can buy my own soup-”

“It was my idea, and I’m getting something for Grace, too, I can buy-”

“Is someone going to pay?” The bored employee at the counter asked, looking between them. Sofie flushed, abruptly feeling sixteen years old on her first date, almost getting into a fist fight with Joey Carson about paying for dinner.

“Yes,” she started to say, “I-” but before she could finish her thought, she started coughing again, which Dale took as permission to pay for her soup. He glanced over at her as he slid his card across the counter, looking more smug than she’d seen him, and not the slightest bit apologetic. It made something hot spike in the base of Sofia’s stomach; which she tried very hard not to think about- especially since they were in a public restaurant and his four year old daughter was still holding her hand. 

She glared at Dale as he signed the receipt and ushered the two of them away from the register to wait for their food; Dale had ordered it all to go, which Sofia appreciated. She was trying very hard not to think of this as a date- it was just two sort-of friends getting lunch because one of them had a cold and the other was a lovely, considerate, handsome man with a daughter and maybe a partner and ugh, whatever illness Sofie had come down with was apparently rotting her brain. It wasn’t a date. It was. Something else. 

Or at least, Sofie hoped it wasn’t a date- not yet. She would prefer to be in something other than a pair of old Juicy sweats and a cat lady sweater if Dale ever took her on a date. (Wishful thinking, she tried to reprimand herself, wishful thinking.)

Grace was in the middle of telling Sofie about the most recent episode of a tv show she was watching- something about a princess detective? It was very sweet but difficult to track the plot at times- when an employee called Dale’s name and handed him two paper bags and a cardboard to go cup. He looked in both bags before handing one to Sofia, as well as the to-go cup. 

“Soup, and tea, and I think there’s some crackers and fruit in there-”

“What about my lunch, daddy? Are we gonna eat with Miss Sofie?” Grace interrupted, tugging at her father’s leg. 

“No, sweetheart, we’re going to eat at the park, but Miss Sofie is going to go eat at her house because she doesn’t feel good, remember?” 

“Thank you, for this,” Sofia managed to say, her voice rough with congestion. “It was really kind of you to go out of your way-”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Dale said quickly, with the kind of easy confidence that came from really believing what he was saying. “Really. I hope you- feel better.” Grace nodded seriously at his hip, worrying her lip between her teeth. Her eyes jumped between the to-go bag of lunch her father was carrying and Sofia; Sof felt fairly honored to be considered on par with the mac and cheese she overheard Dale ordering for his daughter. 

“Thank you,” Sofie repeated, feeling like the sentiment was wholly inadequate. 

“Daddy?” Grace asked, her voice uncharacteristically bashful, “Are you gonna kiss Miss Sofie better, too?” Sofie’s face was on fire as Grace continued, “you always kiss my forehead better when I don’t feel good.” 

“Uh-” Dale’s face was just as red and bewildered as Sofia felt. “I don’t think that’s-”

“But you have to do it, or she won’t get better!” Grace demanded. And although Sofia wasn’t a parent, she’d spent enough time around kids to know when one was on the verge of a meltdown. Sofie caught Dale’s eye- who looked uncomfortable and put on the spot- and tried to silently communicate that it was okay. 

It should be weird- this was only the fourth time she’d spent any time with Dale, and the first time they’d talked outside of the careful professional boundaries of the salon- but Sofie was just tired enough that all her boundaries had melted away, and just needy enough to not question the logic of letting her maybe-single friend kiss her on the forehead. Because his four year old daughter thought it would make her feel better. 

Dale met Sofia’s eye, eyebrows raised in question. She knew, instinctually, that if she gave any small sign as to being uncomfortable, he’d shut it down entirely- Grace’s impending meltdown be damned. She liked him a little more for that, for how automatically he was willing to put her comfort before his own. She nodded, mouthing it’s okay. Dale relaxed a little, his eyebrows falling from high up on his forehead, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders.

Honestly, Sofia was probably too okay with the idea of Dale kissing her on the forehead, but she tried not to think about that. 

Dale nodded, but Sofie wasn’t sure whether it was to her, to Grace, or to himself. And then he was leaning down- he was taller than her by a good five inches, even when she wore her good heels, he almost towered over her now- and pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead. It was brief, and warm, and dry; and it sent a thrill of electricity down Sofia’s spine, her eyes falling closed on instinct as she leaned slightly into him. He pulled away, a second later, and Sofie could swear there was something heated in his eyes, the same thing she felt bubbling in her stomach. 

“You have a fever,” he murmured. From anyone else, Sofie might have felt offended, but Dale said with such concern, such care, that Sofie couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but warm. She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Dale was still staring at her, eyes gentle. She didn’t want to look away- she didn’t know how. Sofie thought, maybe, if she wasn’t sick and if Grace wasn’t there, tugging at the paper bag in her father’s hand, that something might happen. That Dale would close the distance again. But he didn’t, just took an unsteady breath and finally leaned away. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

Sofie smiled, raising the to-go cup of tea in her hand. “Yeah, I will. Thank you again, really, I appreciate it.” Dale’s face warmed, and Sofie bit down on the urge to find out what it felt like under her palm. “Have a good lunch, you guys!”

Grace waved goodbye as Dale led her out the door. “Get home safe, Sofia,” he told her with a final smile. God, shit, fuck, you have to get a grip, Bikes, Sofie thought to herself. 

The soup and the tea were wonderful, and after a day and a half of rest and recuperation, she was well enough to pass Em’s test of health and allowed back into work. 

When she got there, her station was just as she left it- save for one thing. A little envelope, blindingly pink, covered in scribbles. She knew who it was from even before she opened it, her heart going soft and mushy. 

Sofia, it started. Dale’s handwriting was neat and steady, and the note itself was surrounded by brightly-colored crayon drawings, presumably from Grace. 

Grace’s birthday is in two weeks, and we’re having a small party for friends and family. She has not stopped asking me about ‘the nice hair lady Sofie’ since she first met you, and has demanded that I extend this invitation. There is, of course, no expectation for you to attend, only that it would make a soon-to-be-five year old’s day. The theme is princesses, of course, and we’re having it at a park near our house- I’ll put all the information at the bottom. There’s no need to RSVP, the whole thing is going to be pretty casual, but I hope that we’ll see you there, and that you’ve recovered from your illness.

Dale Lee.  

He had listed the address and the time and date for the party at the bottom, under his signature. The little burning flame in Sofia’s stomach- the one that had sparked to life the first time Dale blushed at one of her jokes- grew tall and hot, flickering behind Sofie’s heart, at the back of her throat. 

Em’s laugh abruptly made Sofie look up- how long had she been staring at the note? 

“Getting love letters from your hot dad friend?”

Sofie flushed red as she scowled at her friend. “Shut it. It’s not- he’s- eugh. Whatever. No.”  

Em raised an interested eyebrow, walking towards Sofie’s station and leaning against the counter. “What is it, then? If not a love letter?”

“I just- we ran into each other the other day when I was sick and left work early, and he was really sweet and bought me soup and tea and- uh. Anyway, his daughter’s birthday is next week, and he invited me to their little party. No big deal.” Em’s eyebrows were rising higher and higher on her forehead, fascinated and incredulous. 

“His daughter’s birthday party? Are you gonna go?”

“Wh- I don’t! I don’t know. I just got the invitation.” Sofie fingered the pink paper, tracing along the crayon scribbles Grace had decorated the invitation with. (She wondered if she’d colored on all the invitations, or whether Sofie’s was special- and then definitively stopped wondering that.)

“Mmhmm,” Em hummed, nodding. “Sure.” Her voice was heavy with a skepticism Sofie didn’t appreciate the implication of. “You’ve gotta think about it, weigh your options about spending a Saturday afternoon with a hoard of screaming kids on the off chance your hot dad is single and available.” 

Sofie snorted. “When you put it that way…”

“You’re totally going to go,” Em finished fondly, crossing her arms as though to challenge Sof to say otherwise. 

She sighed, looking down at the invitation again. “I’m down bad, aren’t I?”

“Oh, absolutely. But-” Em tucked a loose strand of hair behind Sofie’s ear, patting her gently on the cheek- “so is he.”

“Yeah?” Sofie allowed herself to feel the barest flicker of hope.

“Yeah. Sweetheart, he invited you to his daughter’s birthday party. That’s like, peak dad flirting.”

“Oh shut up.” Sofia shoved her gently on the arm. “What do you know about dad flirting?”

Em shrugged, “What can I say, I’m a hot commodity in the single dad market.”

“You’re a lesbian, hon.” 

“And the hot single moms market. I’m a hot commodity in general, no?”

“Oh you’re something, Em, there’s no doubt about that.”

Dale fiddled with his pink Disney branded plastic cup, watching as Grace ran in wide circles, screaming and giggling as she chased her friends around. She was wearing the new princess dress she’d opened that morning- a bright pink Aurora dress, complete with a huge poofy skirt- and waving around a scepter he wasn’t sure how she’d gotten her hands on. It was a relatively small party- Grace had a handful of other friends her age from going to the park and other families in their building, but he knew she’d make a lot more when she started kindergarten in the fall. The other parents, neighbors, and coworkers were clustered around tables, chatting amongst themselves and snacking off tiny plates emblazoned with different Disney princess faces. A lopsided tower of presents waited atop one of the fold out tables Dale had set up in the park, next to a handful of other tables with snack foods and punch. His parents were talking to one of their neighbors by the slide, smiling and waving everytime Grace raced past them.

It was a nice party, especially for something he’d planned and pulled together himself at more or less the last minute. Next year, when she was a little older, he’d put more work into throwing her a cohesive party, but Grace wasn’t a demanding kid- the opportunity to eat her weight in cupcakes and run around with her friends was more than enough excitement for her. 

And Dale… Dale was just happy to see her so excited, running around and shrieking, showing off her new favorite dress to everyone she saw. He kept one eye on the entrance- bedecked with a bright pink balloon arch his parents had surprised him and Grace with- waiting for… well. Waiting. 

It was little more than a pipe dream, he knew. He told Sofia she didn’t have to RSVP; mostly for her own benefit, so she wouldn’t feel pressured to reach out to him either way, but also because he didn’t want to spend the whole week prematurely disappointed or excited. In that sense, the schrodinger's cat of Sofie’s arrival was better than the alternative. Or maybe Dale was thinking too much about all of it.

Sofie was- an acquaintance, at best. An acquaintance who probably had better things to do than spend her Saturday afternoon at a newly-five-year-old’s birthday party. 

Or maybe not.

It was the heels that caught his attention first. He saw them out of the corner of his eye, and Dale didn’t think he knew anyone other than Sofia who would be brave enough to wear heels to a five year old’s outdoor birthday party. But here she was. He turned fully to see her walk into the park, smiling a little to herself as she crossed beneath the balloon arch, waving slightly in the breeze. He knew he was probably grinning like an idiot, but the party was in full enough swing he didn’t think anyone else would notice. He could have this one moment of genuine thrill over Sofie’s arrival before he had to be composed and normal and reasonably enthusiastic again. She looked beautiful, in a calf-length fluttering blue dress with little capped sleeves, her dark curly hair tied in a ponytail that bounced slightly as she walked. She looked like something out of the new, modern Disney movies they were making about princesses in the real world. Dale felt his face start to burn as Sofie caught sight of him from the edge of the sidewalk, a smile brightening her face as she raised a hand in greeting. She tromped across the grass of the park towards him with a smile that made his stomach twist in a way Dale hadn’t felt in years. 

“Dale! Thank you so much for inviting me,” Sofie said, peering over his shoulder at the rest of the party guests clustered around tables. “I hope I’m not too late? I had an appointment at noon and in my family arriving on time is arriving early, sorry.”

“No, no,” Dale said quickly, placing a hand on her arm to reassure her. “You’re not late at all, this whole thing is pretty casual.”

“Well it looks lovely, thank you again for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Dale echoed, still reeling a little by the fact that she actually came. “Uh, I know Grace is gonna be thrilled you’re here.”

“Right! Yeah, of course, she’s such a sweet girl, how could I not come? Also: I come bearing gifts!” Sofia held up a large gift bag, pink with gold polka dots, twisting her wrist so it swung back and forth. “I wasn’t sure exactly what she was into, other than princesses, but I know I loved a tea party when I was that age, and so do all my little nieces and cousins so- spoilers, I guess! It’s a tea set, but like, one of the nice ones, not the trashy cheap plastic ones they sell at the corner stores that, like, disintegrate when you try and pour water out of them or are made with the cheap recalled paint that has lead in it. These are the real deal.” Sofia closed her mouth with a snap, smiling sheepishly as she held the bag out towards Dale. “So. Yeah.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it.” Dale knew he was probably back to smiling like an idiot, but there was the barest hint of blush on Sofie’s cheeks that hadn’t been there when she walked up, so he couldn’t much bring himself to care. “Fair warning, though, she’ll probably demand you come for a tea party when she opens it, so you’d better start preparing your excuses now.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Sofie asked, and her voice had its usual flirtatious levity, but there was something serious and genuine in her eyes.

“Oh, uh-” Dale shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as it heated up under Sofie’s unwavering eyes (sense memory of her fingers trailing along the back of his neck, ner nails scratching up his scalp)- “Just. Most people don’t want to make a date for a tea party with a five year old.”

“Well,” Sofie said with a smooth shrug, flicking her ponytail over one shoulder, “guess I’m not most people.” She winked at him as she brushed past, dropping off her gift atop the mountain of presents on her way to inspect the food tables. Dale watched her walk away for a second, then trailed after her. 

“So, nieces and cousins?” He asked, putting another scoop of goldfish on his princess Jasmine plate. 

Sofie nodded gravely. “Three brothers. A dozen different cousins and second cousins, all with their own brood of mini-Bicicletas. The Bikes family of Staten Island isn’t anything to fuck around with.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially around the curse word, surreptitiously glancing to make sure there weren’t any kids hiding underfoot. “You should see us at Easter. We take up half the church in leopard and pastel.”

“Wow,” Dale said, his voice coming out unreasonably fond for such a baffling mental image. “It must be nice to have such a big family, I’m an only child and my parents live up in Pennsylvania- they’re close enough to see Grace often, but it's not the same as having them in the city.”

Sofie shrugged. “I dunno, I was born and raised here, and so were both of my parents, so it’s not really something I’ve ever had to think about- they’re just always there, for better or for worse. It’s nice to have the kind of support system, but a lot of them are the old Italian Staten Island types, so there’s a lot of do it for the family, Sof, you’ve gotta think of the family-” Sofie said, affecting an even thicker Staten Island accent and dropping her voice to a low, gruff pitch. “Even though half the time do it for the family boils down to going back to Spaghetti’s for more cannoli, you know?”

“Spaghetti’s?” Dale echoed, barely managing not to laugh. 

Sofia stopped dead, a small spoon of m&m's hovering precariously between the table and her plate as she stared at Dale. “Dale Lee. You’re telling me you’ve been living in the city for how long now-”

“Six years-”

“And you’ve never had a cannoli from Spaghetti’s?”

“No?”

“Ugh!” Sofie scoffed, pouring the m&m’s in a thin stream into a pile on her plate. “You’re going, even if I have to bring you some for your next hair appointment.”

“Okay,” Dale agreed, far too eager. Sofie looked up at him, piercing and surprised, but didn’t respond. He mentally grabbed at straws, trying to think of a way to bring them back towards a safer topic of conversation. “What about you? Any mini Sofie Bikes wreaking havoc with perfect hair around the Island?”

Sofie shook her head, finally looking away from him to scrutinize a cupcake before putting it on her plate. “As much as my mother would wish it, no. Single and childless and wasting away at the matronly age of thirty two.”

Dale shrugged, “I don’t think thirty two is matronly. I mean, I’m thirty four and I still sometimes think I’m too young to be a dad, you know?”

Sofie had stopped at the end of the table, plate in hand and one eyebrow raised. “Oh?” It wasn’t a subtle pry for more information by any means, but Dale didn’t mind that Sofia was a little nosy. 

“It was…” Dale hesitated. He wandered over towards a picnic table, Sofia trailing at his side. Her eyes didn’t leave him, even when Dale sat down and examined the grain of the table for a beat, trying to find the right words. He could feel her gaze, but it wasn’t an unpleasant weight; it was patient and interested. “Calling Grace an accident feels disingenuous; she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. But she wasn’t planned, and her mother wasn’t ready for a kid, and for everything that entailed. But I… I had never really thought about fatherhood, before Leah told me she was pregnant, in any kind of real way. It was always something that happened to other people, and that would maybe happen to some future, unknown version of me. But when she told me she was pregnant… it was like. Wow. There’s this potential for a little version of me. A little human that I have the ability to help and grow and nurture into an entire human being. It was that, oh, there you are feeling you always hear about in the movies.” Sofie laughed slightly at that, but otherwise was quiet, listening to Dale carefully, her eyes gentle and earnest in a way that made Dale want to spill his entire life story to her. What Dale didn’t say was how he felt a flicker of the same oh there you are feeling the day he met Sofia. “We talked about it, and her mom agreed to carry Grace to term, with the understanding that I would have full custody.”

“And what about…?”

“We see her on holidays and birthdays, sometimes. Grace knows her as Aunt Leah. She doesn’t want to be her mom, and I respect that. We’re going to dinner tonight, after Grace has hopefully run off most of the cupcakes she’s inhaled, and we’ll probably tell Grace the truth when she’s a little older, when she’ll understand better the whole complicated thing, but yeah. Leah and I weren’t… permanent, when it happened, and I think that made it easier to come to the arrangement we have, and I think we’re better as weird, sort of family friends who have a child. And while the whole single parent thing is kind of an uphill battle, I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Well,” Sofie reached out and touched his hand, “I’m no expert, but I think you’re doing a really great job, Dale. It can’t be easy, but she’s an amazing kid.” Her hand was warm on his, and Dale had a flash of the last time they were like this, Sofie’s hands carefully maneuvering his fingers around, cradling his palm in hers like it was something special. Her nails were pale pink, now, freshly painted in a shade that perfectly matched her lipstick. 

“That- that means a lot,” Dale said, feeling a blush crawl up his throat. Sofie’s hand was still resting gently atop his. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, uh,” Sofie shrugged. Her eyes dropped briefly to her plate on the table before jumping to their hands, still touching, and then to his face. She looked more bashful than he’d ever seen her, genuinely shy and curious. “I’m sure it’s nothing you don’t hear all the time from your- girlfriend? Partner?” Oh. Oh. It was getting harder and harder for Dale to convince himself not to read into Sofie’s questions. Or, more pressingly, why she was asking them.

“Oh. No- no girlfriend. Or partner, or- no. Not, not presently.” Dale felt like he was seventeen again, nervous and jittery and too excited. He was a grown ass man with a child, he had a stable, normal job, why was he getting all worked up?

Sofie smiled at him, small and contained and clearly trying to hide how pleased she was at his answer, and all Dale’s remaining defenses melted. 

“Right. Okay. Good to know.”

A shriek of excitement Dale recognized immediately as Grace shattered the moment, and both of them turned to watch his daughter storm up to their table in a cloud of pink tulle. “Miss Sofie!” She screamed, dragging out the vowels until she got to their table, launching herself at Sofie and wrapping her arms around her waist in an abrupt hug. Dale opened his mouth to apologize, to ask for Grace to let go of her; but Sofie was already laughing. She wrapped her arms gently around Grace’s shoulders, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head. 

“Happy birthday, princess!” 

Grace shrieked again at the title, pulling away and spinning wildly in a small circle chanting, “Look at my dress, look at my dress,” before coming to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily. “I’m Aurora.”  

Sofie laughed brightly, clapping her hands together in appreciation. “I can see that! You look wonderful, did your daddy give you that for your birthday?” Grace nodded excitedly. “I wore my blue dress like Cinderella’s today,” Sofia brushed her palms along the line of her thigh beneath her dress, flicking the edge of the skirt out with her fingers to show Grace. “But I think yours is much prettier.”

“Wow!” Grace said appreciatively, grabbing the train of Sofie’s dress in her grubby hands. Again, Dale winced apprehensively, but Sofie didn’t show any sign of minding; even though Dale could see the remnants of frosting on Grace’s fingers from where he was sitting. “Aurora has a blue dress, too, when the fairies are fighting about it.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that, we kind of match, then, don’t we?” Grace grinned up at her, face covered in a thin layer of pink frosting, and nodded avidly. 

“Princess Miss Sofie,” Grace said, tottering in an unsteady curtsy, and Dale watched as Sofia’s eyes widened, and her smile softened into something he recognized- the same gentle, awestruck smile he saw on his own face in every picture with Grace. 

“Oh,” Sofia breathed, blinking a few times in quick succession. Her smile broadened back to his usual billboard glow as Grace picked her head up proudly. “I am honored to join your court,” she recovered, putting on an affected accent that threw Grace into a fit of giggles. 

“Well, birthday princess,” Dale interjected gently, leaning forward across the picnic table to grab his daughter’s attention, “how would you feel about opening some… presents?”

It was early evening, the summer sun just beginning to think about setting, and Sofie was sweeping up after her last appointment when her phone started to ring. The salon was mostly empty- with Esther’s last appointment in the back waiting for her color to cure- so Sofie picked up her phone without looking at the caller ID, assuming it was her mother calling about family dinner tomorrow night. 

“Hey Ma, I know, 6 PM tomorrow, you want me to bring you another bottle of the heat protectant I got you last month, you could have just texted me.” Sofie tucked her phone between her shoulder and her chin, but froze in place when the person on the other side of the phone started speaking in a voice that was distinctly not her mother’s. 

“Sofia?” Dale asked, warm with fondness even through the tinny speaker of her phone. She blinked, once, twice, and it wasn’t until he started to say her name again that Sofie’s brain clicked back online enough to respond. “Sof-”

“Dale!” She said, far too loud, and winced to herself slightly. “Sorry, I thought you were my mother- eugh, obviously. I didn’t look at my caller ID, what’s- why are you- what can I do for you?” She finally landed on, pitching her voice unbearably high in the awkward transition between her normal and customer service voices. (Though, if she was being honest, she hadn’t thought of Dale as a customer since he bought her soup when she was sick.)

“Oh, uh, if this is a bad time-” 

“No, not at all, I’m finishing up at the salon, you just surprised me. Good surprised,” Sofia elaborated; because fuck it, she wasn’t a coward. She was Sofie Fuckin’ Bikes.

“Oh,” Dale repeated, more pleased this time, his voice low and quiet in her ear. “Good. I was just- I was wondering, if your night is free- you mentioned at Grace’s birthday party a restaurant, I think, called Spaghetti’s?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, I can grab you their address.” Sofie shuffled forward to lean her broom against a wall. “It’s not too far from the salon-”

“No, I mean- thank you, the address would be great, but I was wondering.” He paused. “My folks wanted to take Grace shopping for school clothes tonight and they’re going to dinner across the river, so I was wondering- hoping- you’d show me those cannoli you were telling me about?”

For the second time that night, Sofia was stuck frozen to the floor; bowled over by the raw hope and excitement in Dale’s voice. “Yeah, yes,” she managed after a beat, “yeah. I would- we can do that.” Her voice came out tight and strained, and Sofia felt her heartbeat double in time. Was this- was he-? She felt like she was a teenager, sweaty and waiting for Jonny DeLuca to ask her to prom after her volleyball game. 

“Great.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Um, should I- you’re still at the salon?”

“Yeah, yes.” She turned around in a quick circle, doing the mental math on how little she could get away with cleaning her station before leaving for the night. “I can be out in ten? It’s a five minute walk from where I am.” 

“Perfect. Text me the address, and I’ll meet you there in fifteen?”

“Yeah. Done,” Sofia answered, far too breathlessly for someone who was standing perfectly still. “See you in fifteen, Dale.”

“Right. Bye, Sofia.” He hung up with a little click, and Sofia stood in the middle of her station for another minute in stunned silence, staring at the home screen on her phone. When it finally turned itself to sleep, Sofia blinked at her reflection in the black screen. Curled her bottom lip to blow her bangs out of her eyes, checked her lipstick.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, “shit. Okay.” 

She finished cleaning her station in a tornado, the fastest she’d ever done it. She was fixing her hair in her mirror when Esther came back out with her last customer of the day, shooting her a bemused look as she guided the old lady back to her seat. Sofie caught her eye and offered her only a grin, mouthing later before dabbing on one last coat of lipstick and turning the lights around her vanity mirror off with a click. 

Turning on her heel, Sofie waved a brief goodbye over her shoulder as she rushed towards the door, grabbing her jacket against the late summer chill from behind the counter as she went; hearing Esther’s laugh echo behind her as the door jangled shut. 

She was grateful, at least, she’d chosen today to wear a blouse that made her tits look really good, as opposed to one that made them only look marginally good. 

She didn’t know that it was a date- I mean, it probably is, right? She thought to herself, tromping down the streets of Staten Island as quick as she could in her Louboutin’s. What’s the alternative, two adults getting cannoli together, platonically? She huffed, shoving her hands into the pockets of the tiny jacket she’d brought to stave off the early evening breeze. I mean, he didn’t say it was a date. But he didn’t say it wasn’t, either-  

“Ugh!” She groaned aloud, turning the corner to the block Spaghetti’s was on. Sofie shook her head once, definitively, and then gently combed her fingers through her hair to drape it back over her shoulders, made sure her bangs sat correctly. Peering down the street, she saw the shape of a tall man, well built, standing by Spaghetti’s front windows. Dale.

She tried not to think about how easily she recognized his shape, how nicely his shoulders filled out the lines of the thin jacket he was wearing. How she wanted to run her fingers through his hair again, without the pretense of cutting it, scratching her nails against his scalp to feel him lean into her touch. How his glasses reflected the blue light from the phone in his hand; waiting, outside Spaghetti’s, for her. 

Even if it wasn’t a date, it was something.  

Spaghetti’s was, unsurprisingly, crowded and busy at 6pm on a Friday night. Sofie was able to use the familiar terrain to her advantage, dragging Dale through the line and chattering loud and fast enough with the guy behind their counter to get them half a dozen cannoli and pay before Dale realized enough to argue. He’d bought her soup and tea, last time, it was the least she could do to repay the favor. Maria Bicicleta might’ve raised a lady, but she didn’t raise no bitch. 

“Wh- you didn’t- I could have paid-” Dale argued weakly as he followed Sofie back out the door and into the night, fighting laughter. 

“Dale, it’s fine, it’s fine- think of it like a thank you.” She turned back towards him once they were a little ways down the sidewalk, holding the box out between them. “For- for looking out for me when I was sick a couple weeks ago.”

Even in the golden light of the quiet street, the sun just starting to set behind the horizon, Sofia could see a blush steal its way across his face, starting at the tips of his ears and going down his throat. Sofia wanted to run her tongue along the top of his ear, wanted to run her lips down the long column of his neck, wanted to suck a mark where the sharp line of his jaw softened into his throat. Sofie wanted a lot of things- she just didn’t know if she could have them.

“I was happy to do it, Sofia.” Dale’s voice was gentle. “And I’m glad you’re feeling better, I was- Grace and I were worried after you.” She smiled at him, kind of blown away about how kind and earnest this man was- for no reason. Maybe Sofie was just too used to her shithead cousins, but it felt like Dale had stumbled out of another world and into her salon one day. “Um,” he gently took the box, still held out between them, in his hands, “half a dozen cannoli is a lot for one guy to eat by himself, you know. Would you want to share?”

“Yeah.” Sofie was still smiling at him, and couldn't bring herself to stop. “Yeah, I could be up for that.”

“Right, uh,” he looked up and down the street, “there’s a park nearby, well lit walking path, some picnic benches? If that sounds okay? Or we could go back inside-” he frowned slightly in the direction of Spaghetti’s, people bustling in and out in streams. “Wherever you’d be more comfortable.”

“Let’s go to the park.” Sofie trusted Dale, maybe more than she should trust a man she’d only met a handful of times. But Sofie Bikes had lived this long trusting her gut, and it was telling her Dale was a good guy.

(It was also telling her she could probably take him, well-toned biceps notwithstanding, if push came to shove. Stilettos were good for more than just making her butt look good.)

The park they ended up at was a little quieter than the one Dale had hosted Grace’s birthday party at, with a smaller playset and a path dotted with street lamps that cut between a wide expanse of grass and the edge of a small forest. Dale handed her one of the cannoli as they walked along, chatting about Sofie’s more amusing regulars and Grace’s excitement about starting Kindergarten next month. 

Suddenly, he stopped dead, gently grabbing Sofie’s arm to halt her mid-step next to him. She was in the middle of a story about this bitch from the neighborhood they ended up banning from the salon, Isabella, when Dale hushed her gently. He let go of her arm to point gingerly a few feet away at the edge of the wood, just barely on the outside of one of the golden circles cast on the path by the streetlights flickering on. 

It was a deer, slowly moving out of the woods towards the sidewalk, stopping every few steps to sniff and nibble at the grass. “Look,” Dale breathed, leaning close to Sofie to whisper under his breath, moving his finger to draw her eye line just behind the deer. She was trailed by two astonishingly small fawns, still speckled with hundreds of white spots on their brown coats, skittishly following their mother out from the safety of the trees. 

“Oh my goodness,” Sofia murmured, all offense at her story being interrupted immediately forgotten. The deer were precious, walking carefully across their path like something out of a disney movie, but even sweeter was the awed way Dale watched them. He moved his from where he’d first pointed them out to Sofie, and pressed it against his heart as they stood perfectly still and watched the deer make their way out of the woods and out across the green. 

Dale seemed utterly, beautifully charmed, and after the deer had meandered a few yards away, he started to whisper to Sofie, not drawing his eyes away from the doe and her babies. “There’s a small herd in the woods, I’ve been coming for years and seeing them grow up, and have babies- it’s always so beautiful, to see the little fawns with their little spots, they grow up so fast.” He was tearing up, slightly. Sofie blinked up at him, how his attention was fully and wholeheartedly focused on the deer as they wandered away. Grace wasn’t even here for him to be excited for, this was just who Dale was. A fully grown man who got overwhelming joy from seeing a handful of deer. 

Oh, Sofie belatedly realized, that’s probably why he brought me here; he wanted to show me the deer, too.

Warmth crept through her chest; there was something astounding and wonderful about Dale’s vulnerability, so different from all of the men she’d grown up around. Something so fascinating about this man who was kind and earnest, even when his young daughter wasn’t there to see it. 

“They’re wonderful,” Sofie murmured in answer, not looking away from Dale. He blinked down at her, as that enticing blush crawled down his neck again. “Thank you for showing me.” Normally, she’d lay flirtation and innuendo heavy over a line like that, but this time she was genuinely thankful Dale thought to bring her to a place so clearly special to him.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Makes you wonder how many quiet little corners like this there are hiding on the island- or in the city, even,” Sofia mused, looking away from Dale to watch the mother and her fawns wander further away and back into the woods. “Like, somewhere there’s someone with a little house and a yard that sees deer like this every day. Wonder if it ever loses the- the novelty, you know? There are wild animals, in my yard, eating my grass. And I let them, because I think they’re cute.” 

Dale chuckled quietly. “The weird thing is, I’ve had that same exact thought.”

“Yeah?” Sofie laughed, “you got a lot of deer in your backyard?”

“Not in the apartment I’m currently living in, no. But-” an odd, contemplative look crossed his face- “but maybe someday, you know?” He asked, but it sounded like he was saying something else, under his mostly-rhetorical question. 

“You’re planning on raising Grace on the island?” Sofie was also asking a different question under her words.

Dale shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. There was a steady kind of hopefulness in his expression that made Sofie’s stomach quiver. “Hope so. There’s a lot of community here, and I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“Yeah?” She murmured, suddenly realizing they’d both been inching closer since he first saw the deer; to the point that they were almost chest to chest. Fuck it, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. This whole novel courtship thing was already more beating around the bush than she was used to- charming though it may be. 

“Uh. That is… Sofia-”

“Kiss me,” Sofie breathed, leaning in until their faces were a breath’s width away. Dale blinked at her- this close, his eyes were a million different shades of brown, and she could see a handful of faded freckles along his nose.

Dale exhaled shakily, and for a single heartbreaking moment, Sofia was sure she’d gotten it all wrong- every glance, every smile, every comment- and then his fingers were on the back of her neck and he was closing the distance. 

As soon as their lips met, it was like Dale gasped to life. He wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer, keeping her steady as she reached up and tugged her fingers through her hair. He groaned against her mouth, like he’d been thinking about this- her nails on his scalp, down his neck, her lipstick smudging on his face- as much as she had. Sofia was grateful she’d left her hair down after work, because the next moment Dale’s other hand was cradling the back of her head, his palm warm and gentle as he combed his fingers through her curls. She flung her arms around his neck, trying to tug him closer to the ground to get a better angle. If I pop my foot out, she realized bemusedly in the back of her mind, it’ll be just like the Princess Diaries.

Dale tasted like cannoli, which wasn’t surprising, and cinnamon gum, which was. He didn’t kiss like a gentleman, or like a prince- but like a man who wanted, who’d been thinking about this for as long as Sofie had, who craved her touch as much as she did his.

There was something hysterical and embarrassing and novel about making out in a public park, and it reminded Sofia too much of her adolescence to last very long without pulling away to laugh breathlessly. 

She drew her palm across Dale’s cheek, marveling at the warmth of his brown eyes this close, his pupils blown wide and drinking her in. Her lipstick was smudged horribly across his mouth, and Sofie felt a flash of possessive pride at how it made him look- marked, claimed, by her.  

“It's a good color on you,” she whispered, not wanting to pull away. 

Dale’s arm tightened minutely around her waist. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, pursing her lips against the urge to kiss him again. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered; and it was far from the first time Sofie had heard it, but there was something in the way Dale said it, that made the familiar compliment feel new. Something in the way he looked at her, like she was something incredible he couldn’t tear his eyes away from, that made her flush. 

“You’re-” she scrambled for words, trying to find the right way to say impossible without sounding like a crazy lady- “the best guy I’ve ever met.”

(Okay, she thought to herself, maybe I overshot the mark a little on that one.)

Dale blinked, once, twice. And then, with the same breathtaking earnestness that had first caught her attention, “Thank you.” He carefully pulled his hand out of her hair, like he was trying not to make any knots, and brushed a stray piece of hair off her cheek and behind her ear with a single gentle finger. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Sofie Bikes. And I mean that as a compliment.”

“I know.” 

And in the golden light of the sun setting over Staten Island, Sofia could see her life unwind in front of her eyes- days spent at the park with Dale and Grace, going to the movies with him just to make out in the back like teenagers, doing Grace’s hair before her first day at school, giving Dale a trim in his kitchen that turned into laughing kisses, finding a house on the island with a backyard that butted against woods with the promise of deer outside their window, watching Grace grow up first hand, adopting a kitten and Dale trying to teach it tricks, introducing them to her family, watching Grace shriek and run through her parents’ house with Sofie’s nieces and nephews. 

Sofie Bikes wasn’t a greedy person, per se. But she always knew what she wanted; and ever since she was a child, once she set her sights on something, she would do anything within her power to get her hands on it.

And she wanted. She wanted that future with Dale, with Grace, a life with the three of them. Full of laughter and deer and haircuts and love. 

“Take me on a date?” she muttered, pressing another kiss to the side of Dale’s mouth for incentive. She felt him start to nod as she pulled away, not bothering to hide the proud smile she felt stretching across her face. 

“Please, yes-” and then he was kissing her again. It tasted like the sweetest future Sofia had ever dreamed of. 

(And cannoli.)