He absorbed the hit and hid the sting. “It’s okay. I get it. Not a parent. But can’t you just refuse to use black paint?”

She tucked a folded piece of scrap fabric in the sewing machine and ran it, seeming pleased with the fact that it no longer made that clunking sound like it had before. As she screwed the top back on, she glanced over at him through long lashes.

“Have you heard the term pick your battles?” He nodded and she continued. “Half of a parent’s life is spent doing just that. Deciding what’s worth the argument and what’s not. What decisions a child needs to make for herself, and which might be too risky to allow. Hazel’s at that fun age where she feels grown-up, but she’s really not.” Zoey sat back and ran the sewing machine again, giving a nod of satisfaction as she slid it to the side. “So I try to give her some leeway to start being responsible for her own decisions. And I made a minor miscalculation that isn’t her fault.”

“What was that?”

“I told her she could pick the paint colors in her bedroom. It never occurred to me that she’d go with a black ceiling, but I made her a promise. And who cares what color the ceiling is, anyway? It’s not like I’m worried about resale value—pretty sure I’ll be living here for a long time to come.”

“And if she hates it when it’s done?” That seemed pretty likely—it was a black ceiling—but then again, he wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl.

“If she does, then she’ll learn an important lesson about having the ability to make decisions. Sometimes we make bad ones, and there are consequences. In this case, the consequence would be living with it, or earning the money to repaint it.”

Was it any wonder Mike never thought he’d make a great parent? Zoey seemed to be such a natural, but he had the feeling he’d do everything wrong.

“How do you know which battles to choose?”

“Well, that’s where I have to deal with the consequences of decision-making.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s not a perfect science. Rule number one for me is Keep Her Safe. After that, it’s a crapshoot. I figure if I fight everything she wants, she’ll resent me and ignore any life lessons I try to teach. If I give her everything she wants, I’ll create an entitled brat who’ll have a hard time succeeding in life as an adult. And that’s my job—to create a good adult.” She shrugged. “I’m doing it all without a lot of guidance, since I didn’t have a mom growing up. A lot of times I’m winging it—just doing the best I can.”