“I think I can fix you up with that,” Vincent said as he stood and went behind the desk. He rummaged around before presenting Carrie with a cherry sucker.

“Thank you, Vincent,” she said, hugging him around the knees and making the old man’s day.

As we headed to the elevator, the doorman said, “Mr. Broxton?” I turned, and he grinned, his bushy gray mustache curving up on the ends. “That’s a sweet little lady you have there.”

“Thank you, Vince. I agree,” I said, patting Carrie’s head. She really was a charmer… sweet and well-mannered. Blaire and Evan had really done a wonderful job in raising her. I prayed I would be a good dad to her and not fuck anything up.

We got out of the elevator on my floor, and I led her into my apartment. I was itching with excitement and a little bit of nervousness as we went upstairs to see her room. What if she didn’t like it?

“Okay, baby girl. You ready for your surprise?” I asked with my hand on her doorknob.

“Yesssss! I can’t wait!” she said, hopping from foot to foot and clapping her tiny little hands. I opened the door and let her walk into the room in front of me. “What is this?” she asked, looking around with delight shining on her face.

“This is your very own room. Do you like it?” I asked, chewing the corner of my lip.

“It’s sooooo sparkly and purple. Is this bed for me?”

“Of course.”

“And what about these bookshelves?”

“Carrie, everything in this room is yours. That’s why I wanted to get you some books today, so you would have something to put on the shelves.”

“Wow, Daddy. This is like, awesome!”

I felt my entire body melt with relief. I opened her closet door and said, “Here’s your closet.” I was struck by how bare it was and kicked myself for not buying a few things to fill it. “We can go buy you some clothes and stuff to keep here at my house. Maybe tomorrow?”

“That sounds so fun. You’re a good shopper buddy,” she said, nodding wisely. In other words, I was a total pushover, I thought with a grin.

“Go on through to the next room. That will be your playroom.”

“Seriously, dude? I get my own playroom?” Did she just call me dude? God, she is hilarious.

After admiring everything in the playroom, she walked to the bathroom door and opened it, squealing, “Duckies! I loooooove duckies!”

I opened the linen closet and said, “Here are your towels and washcloths and stuff.” I pulled aside the shower curtain and was pleasantly surprised to see that Reagan had stocked it with kid soaps, shampoos, and bubble baths. I would have to remember to thank her for that.