“I don’t need a special trophy for parenting. I love it, Winter. Don’t worry. Go enjoy your manicure while you can still get one.” His hand returns to my back as he nudges me toward the door. “But I—” “No buts. You go. I’ll be here. I got this.” I turn and give him a stern stare, one finger up. “I’ll be back before lunch.” He chuckles and winks. “No, you won’t. I booked your massage right after the manicure. Sloane is meeting you there and for lunch. See you later, Mama.”
