inspired by this post from @justkindaoverhereobsessing
He shook the snow out of his boots, kicking them on the wall a couple of times to let the ice crisps from it fall to the ground. They were left out in the hallway, and precariously so, for there was a little girl left alone inside the flat, and this little girl in particular was very much known to be up to no good, especially without him there.
“Tali,” his voice echoed at the empty hallway, a key turning into the lock as his bare hands shivered from the cold. He didn’t take any gloves, thinking this was going to be a quick business, but it was a decision he soon regretted, only because now his fingertips were numb to a non-feeling point.
He wasn’t sure if going out in the deserted french streets only to buy cinnamon was a nice way of teaching his daughter not to be spoiled, but somehow she knew the direct way to his heart - something she must have inherited from her mother - and a small pout and sad eyes could get him anywhere in a second.
He also wasn’t sure about the reason a child would ask for cinnamon to be put in a simple hot chocolate recipe - he always thought it would be the other way around, more and more chocolate - but he had a feeling it had something to do with the text now sitting on his phone.
At the airport, xo
He had read it a thousand times already, and only the act of remembering it made his heart flutter, a burning warmth suddenly spreading under his winter clothes towards his numb fingertips. He’d taken so much time processing it that his reply had only one tick, which made him curse himself for a good while for not wishing her a safe flight in time.
He’d told Tali at noon, and since then she couldn’t stop asking about it and planing the multiple things she thought was necessary for the night to be perfect. The girl practically thought an international flight took mere minutes, checking the door and the windows more times than he could count. He couldn’t deny his excitement was the same, but someone had to take the reins here and not burst with anticipation hours before the doorbell even rang.
And so he walked to the little corner shop still opened at that hour only to buy cinnamon for a hot chocolate recipe he was certain it needed no cinnamon at all. The streets were lonely and gray, and people were probably already dining on their respective homes, for it was Christmas eve, the only day when deserted streets meant a good thing, to be honest.
As he walked back from the shop to the apartment, the snow fell relentlessly and he regretted for the tenth time that day for underestimating European temperatures. Speckles of ice guided his path and made his insides shiver, and he almost couldn’t breathe, though it had nothing to do with the cold.
It had more to do with the Israeli flying towards him, getting closer and closer to home.
“Tali,” he repeated, making sure to keep his snowy boots out on the doorway, “everything okay? I’m back now.”
His eyes were alert, already rethinking if the decision of leaving a child alone for more than five minutes was the right thing to do. But he was a single father, so to speak, and her incisive need of that goddaming cinnamon was beyond him. It was easier just to do what she asked for than contour his way around it, and he had learned that long ago.
When two stubborn parents merge stubborn genes, there’s no chance their child will get away with it. It was in her blood, and it was their fault.
“Tali, sweetheart, where are you?” He left the keys on the kitchen counter, his voice echoing in the empty living room. There was a Christmas tree on its corner and a menorah on top of the mantlepiece.
He heard giggles coming from her bedroom, followed by “Here, Daddy” also merged with soft sweet laughter, like ripples of water. She must be unwrapping her presents, he thought, she was his daughter too after all.
At least she wasn’t asking about the flight anymore, but by the last glance he did at the kitchen clock, it would still take a couple of hours to land. At least he had an answer already, if not for her, then for him. He was having heart palpitations since yesterday.
“Little ninja, you better not be-”
His voice died.
He saw her hair first.
Dark brown curls now frizzy from the snow and wind outside, falling down her back and over her shoulders. Curls he remembered from his dreams, memories long gone and revisited every day.
He saw her smile right after, his heart threatening to stop.
A bright smile, her cheeks pink from the cold but eyes glinting more than the Christmas lights outside.
She must have got here mere moments ago, he thought.
She was sitting on Tali’s bed, a photograph of them in that same city in her hand, taken years ago and cherished as if the most precious treasure in the world since then. Her fingers were shaking, and he wondered if she still felt cold for a second. Then he wondered how, how was she here, how did she get here without him being here, how her flight-
“Whose plane was it?”
She chuckled. “You are clever,” her eyes locked with his again. “Sometimes.”
There was something in her smile that brought such a warm feeling to his chest, a feeling of belonging that had been misplaced for years. He was convinced that that smile was meant just for him, perhaps ever since they met.
He was wrong. If there was someone who would burst from excitement between him and Tali, it was definitely him. The combination of his heart on fire and his fingertips numb was weird, but his face lit up all the same, without him even realizing it.
“I bought cinnamon,” Tony said, laughter dancing in his eyes.
