Boys Don't Cry

A/N: I know the alerts are messed up, but thanks to those of you who have found the updates and review them anyway. You're the best! -Rachel


"Annie!"

Squealing happily, Annie's green eyes crinkle as she drags her fingers through a bowl of pink icing on the corner of the counter. "Yum!" she exclaims, clapping her sticky hands together before reaching for the bowl again.

I grab her hand before she can make contact with the bowl again. Beside me, Maggie stands on a stool, carefully placing individual pieces of candy confetti on her own cupcake. I know that we have to leave in about thirty minutes to pick Mark up from the airport, but the girls have been begging to bake for days, and I thought that it would be a nice way to welcome their father home.

That was before they tossed flower all over the floor and confectioner's sugar all over their faces. And before Annie had caked her hair with icing while Maggie took an hour to decorate one cupcake. "Alright, monkeys," I announce, clapping my hands together as a lift Annie from the counter. "Time to wash up."

"Nooo!" Maggie whines, lifting her custom design to my face. "I'm almost done!"

Carrying Annie from the island to the sink, I cast a glance at the white powder all over the floor. There's no way I'm going to get everything cleaned before we have to pick Mark up. He's going to come home to a filthy kitchen and he's going to fire me. It's bad enough that our relationship has been tense since our Royal Rumble conversation. This mess isn't going to help anything.

"Maggie, if we don't start cleaning up now," I start, speaking over my shoulder as I run a warm wash cloth over Annie's hands, "then your daddy is going to have to come home to a messy house. And we want the house to be nice for daddy, remember?"

I had tried my best to explain that their father worked hard when he was away, and that he needed a comfortable, clean place to rest when he returned. She had impressed me by straightening up her bedroom the day before, and Annie had even tried to help me clean the living room, and the play room. In fact, before the cupcake incident, the house had been sparkling clean and ready for his return.

"Dahlia?" Maggie's soft voice interrupts my thoughts as she tugs on the hem of my tank top. I mumble a response and try to rake the icing out of Annie's auburn hair with my fingers. "Are you really gonna leave when my dad comes home?"

Tossing the rag into the sink, I rest Annie on my hip and take Maggie's hand. I lead her into the living room and motion for her to sit in my lap. With one girl on each thigh, I do my best to contain my emotions. "You're going to spend three whole days with your daddy."

Her bottom lip trembles, and Annie watches her older sister with deep concern etched into her tiny features. "He's boring," Maggie insists. "All he does is watch his show on TV and sleep and talk on the phone. And he doesn't even smile ever at all."

My heart breaks for them. Honestly, I think the girls want to love their dad. They want to throw themselves at him when he walks through the door. They wanna climb on him like a jungle gym when he's trying to watch television in his recliner. They want him to tuck them in at night and they want to jump on him when they wake up in the morning. But they just don't know him. He's just a sad man that lives in their house.

"Okay, listen," I smile, touching both of their chins with my fingers. "Your daddy is a good man, and he loves you both like crazy," I assure them. Maggie looks skeptical, and I'm not sure Annie knows what's going on. "But he's a boy," I scrunch up my nose when Maggie does. "And he doesn't know anything about girls. So you guys are gonna have to teach him, okay? Teach him how to play with your babies and play dress up. He just needs to learn how."

Biting her lip, Maggie seems to consider the advice that I give. "But I don't think my dress up clothes will fit him," she states seriously.

The laughter bubbles from my chest before I can stop it. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I pat her back and point toward the floor. "Alright, silly goose," I grunt, trying to stand without dropping Annie on her ass. "Go wash up and change your clothes. We gotta get movin' soon." She is on the first step when I set Annie on the ground. "And Maggie?" Her little head turns toward me. "Soap on your hands only! We washed the tub yesterday. You don't have to do it again."

She just rolls her eyes and starts back up the stairs when the sound of an engine in the driveway draws my attention. Stopping at the front door, I gasp. "What are you doin' here?" I ask Mark as he makes his way up the stairs onto the porch.

Glancing to the wooden name plate beside the door, he smirks. "I do live here, don't I?" he asks.

I just step back from the door and allow him entrance into his own home. Annie stares up at him, her eyes wide. "Ki'en dirty," she mumbles, a slight bit of apprehension hedging her high-pitched voice.

Mark's eyes flit to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head and drops his bags, lifting Annie into his arms. With a quick kiss to the side of her sugar-coated face, he touches one huge finger to her nose. "We'll just have to clean it up then, won't we?" he asks.

She nods and rests her head against his shoulder when Mark turns toward me. "Where's Maggie?"

Pointing to the stairs, I edge toward the kitchen. "She's washing her hands. I thought we were picking you up at the airport," I state over my shoulder as I head into the kitchen and fish a broom out of the closet. He doesn't seem angry, or even all that tired. Maybe this reunion will go better than I had hoped.

With a grunt, Mark huffs and I hear Annie squeal in delight. When I risk a glance, he's nipping at her fingers while she tries to pull on his ponytail. To be honest, if either of the girls is going to take to Mark easily, it's going to be Annie. She's just too young to be hold a grudge. "You taste like frosting," he says, raising an eyebrow as her arms flail toward the counter. "Did you make all those yourself?" he asks when he lays eyes on the cupcakes.

"I helped," Maggie's tentative voice interrupts the interaction. I can't see her, but I can hear the pride in her voice as her footsteps descend the hard-wood stairs. "All she did was stick her fingers in the frosting."

Stooping, Mark lifts his oldest daughter into his arms with little effort. With one against each hip, he moves slowly into the kitchen and drops them on the counter. "So lets try one out, huh?" The girls clap their hands as Mark hands them each a cupcake. "You guys made these all by yourselves, huh?"

Maggie turns on the counter and looks at me, as though asking if it's okay to take the credit. I just smile and return my gaze to the floor. "Well, Dahlia helped, too. 'Cause we can't touch the oven," she explained. "But I stirred the batter, and I frosted this one," she nodded to the cake she was working so diligently on earlier.

His eyes widen as she holds the heap of frosting toward him. "Is that one for me?" Mark asks.

Biting her lip, Maggie considers his question. I know that she made it for herself, but if she would offer it to him, it would mean the world to her father. Of course, I can't tell her that, but I hope that she knows it. Nodding slowly, she watches him set it back on the counter. "You can have it if you play ballerinas with me later."

Mark nearly chokes on his words as he considers the possibility. It's taking everything in me not to explode with laughter at the proposition. If he has half a brain, he'll agree. But he's a man's man. The thought of prancing around the house with his daughter, twirling like a tiny dancer, probably isn't his idea of a good time.

"I don't know how to be a ballerina, Princess," he excuses, smiling when Annie stands on the counter to tug his ponytail again. She's really fascinated with that thing.

"I'll teach you," Maggie offers, her eyes flitting back to me as she gives me a thumbs up, as if to make sure I know she's doing what I told her to do. I just wink and start dusting the sugar off of the counter top. "'Sides," she added, considering her father for a minute, "you already have tights."

Oh, that just sends me over the edge. I really can't control my laughter as Mark shoves the cupcake in his mouth and nods his head. When he has swallowed it whole, he kisses his eldest daughter on the head and winks at her. "Deal," he agrees.

"Okay," I interrupt the moment, feeling completely out of place in their little family moment. "I've got all the flour and sugar cleaned up," I announce. "If you wanna get settled, I'll just start the dishwasher and get outta y'alls hair."

Lifting both of the girls to the floor, Mark motions to the living room. "Go play for a minute, girls. I wanna talk to Dahlia before she goes home."

"Why does she gotta go home?" Maggie asks, her hands on her hips. "She gots her own room."

Mark sighs and mimics her stand. "She also has her own house," he reminds the young girl. "She's been here for two weeks. I'm sure Dahlia wants to sleep in her own bed."

Maggie shakes her dark ponytail, looking strikingly like her mother. "No, she doesn't. She wants to stay and play with us," she insists. "She likes staying here with us."

The accusation is probably unintentional. I'm not sure she's old enough to realize what she's said. The meaning isn't missed on Mark, though. Or on me. Quickly dropping the muffin tin into the dishwasher, I spin on my heels and drop my hand towel onto the sink. "Actually, Sweetie," I smile down at the defiant child, "I do need to get home and get some stuff done. But you're gonna have three whole days with your daddy. All by yourselves." I hope that my tone conveys the excitement that she should be feeling.

But she's young, not stupid. "But I want you to stay, too!" Maggie insists.

Before I can argue further, Mark clears his throat. This is his house. I can't forget that. And he's going to be sure that I don't. "Maggie Grace, take your sister to the play room. I'm gonna talk to Dahlia for a minute and then she'll come say bye to you before she leaves. Now git," he motions over her head with his long arm, causing the little girl to growl beneath her breath before stomping out of the room.

When the girls are gone, a heavy silence settles over the room. This man, though I've known him casually for years, is not my friend. I know next to nothing about him. And the last time we had anything resembling a conversation, I pissed him off. This isn't going to be a fun interaction.

"Alright," I finally say, if for no other reason than to break the damn tension in the room. "I know you're probably a little tired, and the girls should be ready for a nap around one," I inform him, never meeting his eye. "If you want, I can pick Maggie up for school in the morning. I know you're not much for gettin' up at six."

He nods and then lowers himself onto his favorite kitchen chair. "So I kinda blew up at ya the other night." For the first time I can remember, he seems shy. Almost nervous. For a guy who kicks ass for a living, you'd think he'd be a little less hesitant about possible confrontation. But he's blushing. Just slightly. Just a tint of pink on the back of his neck.

Moving to the table, I lower myself into a chair beside him and lean my elbows on the table. "I know they're your kids, Mark," I assure him. "I know that you have the final say on them, and I don't want you to ever feel like I'm trying to take that away from you."

"It was a lot harder to be away from them than I thought it would be," he states, staring at the floor blankly. "Never used to think much about 'em on the road. I used to go away and know that everything was under control." Glancing up, he shoots me a withering look. "No offense."

I'm not offended in the least. In fact, my heart hurts for him. He used to know that Kara was here. He used to know that the girls were being loved unconditionally. He doesn't know me. That's smart parenting, not offensive. "You have two really fantastic daughters," I compliment.

"They sure love you," he mutters.

Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest. "They see me all the time," I remind him. It's stupid - he knows that he's not here enough. Why do I feel the need to keep driving the point home? "They wanna love you, too. You just gotta let 'em in."

"They're my kids," he states. I'm not sure if he's reminding me, or himself. But it's clear that he's thinking about something.

Anything I say from here is going to be too much. Pushing away from the table, I smooth my tank top over the waistband of my jeans and tuck my hair behind my ears. "I'm gonna go say bye to the girls." Nudging his knee with my foot, I offer him another smile, hoping that it reaches my eyes. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"