Violet
“No.”
I stopped in the nursery doorway.
Doom stood over Zoey's changing table with a tiny outfit in his hands.
“No what?”
“She ain't wearing this.”
I looked at the outfit.
Then at my husband.
“It's a dress.”
“Know what it is.”
“And?”
“Too short.”
I stared at him.
Zoey was three months old.
“Doom.”
“What?”
“She's a baby.”
“Still too short.”
I walked farther into the room.
The little pink dress came down past Zoey's knees.
“Exactly what part is too short?”
“All of it.”
I started laughing.
He wasn't joking.
“She's three months old!”
“Don't care.”
Zoey kicked happily on the changing table.
Doom looked down at her.
“You ain't wearing that, princess.”
She gave him one of those little smiles that had started appearing more often.
His entire expression softened
