Daddy’s Good Girl
Within minutes, we were rising off the ground, I cut the ropes loose and the balloon floating up into the sky.
“You know, Oliver said it in middle school once that his dad owned a hot air balloon and we called him a dirty liar,” Zella laughed, gripping the edge of the basket. The sound eased every single knot in my body. I watched as the wind tugged at her hair, and sunlight spilled across her face.
She leaned against the railing, eyes widening as the estate shrank under us.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
I stepped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my chin resting lightly on her shoulder.