Page 12 of Play Dirty

And I’m still reeling.

The custody battle is making things a million times worse.

I stuff the rest of the slider into my mouth and reach for the beer someone brought me.

I’ve just lifted it to my mouth when I see her coming out of the house.

And despite my best efforts, I’m completely mesmerized.

Chapter4

Stevie

Today has gone perfectly so far.

The caterers arrived on time, we were able to plate the rest of last night’s wedding cake, and all that’s left is opening gifts. Then Ivan and Chey head home to get their luggage and leave for the airport. Once I help Harper oversee the clean-up, I can go home and chill.

At least, that’s the plan.

I’m still living with Ivan and Chey, and we wanted to time it so I would be at the house while they’re away, but I think I found a condo I’m considering putting an offer on.

Not today, though.

Today I’m going to make sure the rest of this brunch goes according to plan and Chey and Ivan leave without worrying about anything.

“Who’s ready to open presents?” Harper calls out.

Everyone hoots and whistles in response.

Ivan and Chey sit in the outdoor love seat under the overhang next to a mountain of gifts and I grab a pad and paper so I can write down who gave them what. Next to me, Ally is in charge of all the bows and ribbons, which she’ll be gluing onto a large paper plate. That’s today’s bouquet that Chey will toss before they leave. A silly little tradition, but Harper and I thought it would be fun.

Saylor caught the bouquet last night, which was a hoot because everyone’s been teasing her and Canyon about getting engaged. Today, Chey plans to maneuver things so that Rowan catches it, since she and Blake are getting married next week anyway. I’m just glad their wedding has nothing to do with me. They seem nice enough, but I barely know them, so I’m not invited, and it’s a relief. I think I’ve reached my wedding limit for the year.

“It’s sopretty.” The little voice beside me is a hushed whisper filled with awe.

I look down to see a little girl with dark eyes and dark hair and immediately know she’s Marty’s daughter.

“What’s pretty?” I ask as Chey holds up a set of hand-painted teacups that Saylor made for her.

“The cups.” She clasps her hands together. “I would drink from them every day!”

I smile and reach down to tousle her hair. “Maybe we can ask Miss Saylor to make a special one just for you.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up.

I probably should have asked Saylor before mentioning it, but I know her well enough to know she’ll do it.

“What’s your name?” I ask the little girl. “We can go ask Saylor after Chey is done opening presents.”

“I’m Emma!”

“That’s a pretty name.”

She’s a beautiful little girl too, so much like Marty there’s no mistaking the resemblance. Something I’ll never experience. Having biological children.

And it still hurts.

I make a note in the margin of my pad about Saylor creating a special teacup for Emma.

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