Page 17 of Her Father's Best Friend

She considers this, her brow furrowed in thought. Finally, she sighs. "Fine. But I'm going to be right outside. The second it gets ugly, I'm coming in."

I smile, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled forehead. "Always rushing to my rescue."

"Someone has to," she retorts, but there's no heat in it.

We eat our picnic as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, painting the lake in shades of gold and pink. Delilah tells me about her plans to look for a job in town, maybe at the library or the community college. I share my latest building project, a custom deck for a house on the edge of town. It's easy between us, this sharing of our days, our thoughts. Like we've been doing it for years instead of weeks.

When the wine is gone and the food packed away, we stretch out on the blanket, Delilah's head on my chest, my arm around her shoulders. The first stars appear in the darkening sky, pinpricks of light in a canvas of deepening blue.

"Say it again," she murmurs, her voice drowsy against my shirt.

"I love you, Delilah Carter." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'm going to keep saying it every day, even when your dad tries to run me out of town with a shotgun."

She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. "He doesn't own a shotgun."

"Small mercies."

She lifts her head to look at me, her expression suddenly vulnerable. "Promise me something?"

"Anything," I say, meaning it.

"Promise you won't let him change your mind about us. That no matter how angry he gets, you won't decide I'm not worth the trouble."

The fear in her voice breaks my heart. I sit up, bringing her with me so I can look directly into her eyes. "Listen to me, Delilah. There is nothing—nothing—that could make me walk away from you now. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. The only thing I've ever fought for that matters."

Her eyes shine with tears in the fading light. "I'm scared," she admits. "I don't want to lose either of you."

I pull her close, tucking her head under my chin. "You won't lose me. And your dad loves you too much to stay angry forever. It might take time, but we'll figure it out. Together."

Against my chest, I feel her nod. "Together."

As darkness falls around us, as the sounds of the lake at night envelop us in their symphony, I hold the woman I love and make a silent promise to myself: whatever comes next, whatever price I have to pay for loving Bill Carter's daughter, I'll pay it gladly. Because a life without Delilah isn't a life I want anymore.

She shifts in my arms, tilting her face up for a kiss, and as our lips meet, I know with bone-deep certainty that some things are worth any cost. This woman. This love. This is what I was made for.

seven

Delilah

Dad thinksI'm getting the last of my summer clothes to take to "Jasmine's apartment" where I'm supposedly staying. The lie tastes sour on my tongue every time I repeat it, but it buys Mitch and me time to figure out how to break the truth to him. It's been four days since our lake date, four days of Mitch promising he'll talk to Dad "soon" without setting an actual date. I get it—you don't casually bring up that you're sleeping with your best friend's daughter. But the secrecy is starting to wear on me, like a too-tight dress that chafes with every movement. I want to be able to hold Mitch's hand in public. I want to stop fabricating reasons to be at his house. I want my father to know that I'm in love with a good man who treats me like I'm precious.

I fold another sundress into my suitcase, trying to appear casual as Dad leans against my doorframe.

"You sure you're okay staying with Jasmine? You know you can always come home." His voice carries genuine concern. "No need to rush into finding your own place."

"I'm fine, Dad," I assure him, summoning a smile. "Just want to have my own space, you know? Figure out what's next."

What's next is already happening—waking up beside Mitch every morning, cooking dinner together in his kitchen, building a life with him one shared moment at a time. But I can't say any of that.

"Well, Mitch should be here soon to help me with the deck railing. It's gotten loose again." Dad checks his watch. "You said you were meeting Jasmine at noon?"

My heart jumps at Mitch's name. I hadn't known he was coming over today. "Yeah, but I might hang around a bit. Haven't seen much of you lately."

Or Mitch, at least not where Dad can see. Last night, Mitch had me pressed against his shower wall, his hands leaving bruises on my hips that I can still feel when I sit down.

"That'd be nice, kiddo." Dad smiles, oblivious to my thoughts. "Missed having you around."

Guilt twists in my stomach. Not just for lying, but for the knowledge that when the truth comes out, I'll be hurting him. Dad's face falls every time I mention my "apartment hunting" progress. He's not ready for me to leave home, and he's definitely not ready for me to move in with a man—especially not his best friend.

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