Page 89 of Only for Love

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Grayson

Armed with a birthday-paper-wrapped notebook and a stuffed animal with a big bow, I shake my nerves and park my truck on the street in front of Emma’s house. My fingers drum on the steering wheel, and I take another huge swig of Mountain Dew, trying to alleviate my tension. Mega caffeine probably won’t help, but it can’t hurt. Nothing I’ve done—walked away from my home, walked into war—has prepared me to hang out with my daughter.

I Googled two-year-olds all night long and found out several things. Kids aren’t the easy fun they look like on TV commercials. There are message boards and websites dedicated to kids who won’t eat, who won’t talk, who have two parents, one parent, same-sex parents, who were conceived accidentally or brought into this world with the help of implantation—a word that didn’t mean what I thought it meant. There are mommy “wars,” a term that bugs the shit out of me, and parenting styles: attachment, helicopter, free range, tiger…

So basically, I’m terrified of a two-foot-tall dream come true.Hell—I’m more worried about what she thinks about me than I’ve been concerned over anything else in my entire life.

Crap. I take another gulp of soda and fail to ignore my clammy palms.

I pick up the purple stuffed dog and glare at it. “I can do this.”

Go time. I breathe out and try to hide my giddy smile. Grabbing the wrapped notebook, I jump out of the truck and head for the door, my pulse jumping faster with each step.

The door flies open as I raise my hand to knock. Emma has Cally perched on her hip. God, they are beautiful. Both girls have sweet grins that make me feel like more of a man than I’ve ever been. Then Cally quickly loses interest and mumbles something about TV. A nibbling self-doubt surfaces. I need to be what they need, but I’m not sure how to do it. Hence, the Googling.

Emma redirects the squirming girl. “Cally, honey. No more right now.”

“Hey.” I don’t know how to greet them. If it were just Emma, it’d be a hug and a kiss. But I’m sure there’s a line that I’m nowhere near when it comes to hugging Cally. My heart squeezes as disappointment settles in. I want to hug her. I want that connection so much it hurts.

Emma sidles up to me and throws her arm around my neck, pecking my cheek. “Hey, you.”

“I brought presents.” As Emma steps back, I hold up the stuffed animal and the wrapped notebook.

Cally’s eyes light. “I ’member you.”

“I remember you, too.” At her innocent reaction, an easy calm runs through me. “I brought this for you.”

Her little head turns to Emma, asking permission without saying a word. After she receives a nod, I hold the purple dog closer. Cally tentatively reaches for it, and when her fingers grasp it, she snakes it to her cheek, curls it into her neck, and cuddles the ever-lovin’ stuffing out of it.

“Guess she likes it.” Andthatfeels pretty damn good.

Emma tilts her head to watch. “It’s perfect.”

“You ready?” Because I’m not. I’m not hiding, but I’m sure not gung-ho to head into the Kingsley-family hate-Grayson zone. When I called Ryan the other day, there was no answer. I didn’t know what to say, so my voicemail message consisted of “I’m in town, bro. Call me.” No return call. As expected.

“Let’s go.” She sets Cally down, and we both watch her run to Emma’s Jeep. “Mine has a car seat.” She places her keys into my palm but doesn’t take her hand away. “Maybe we ditch and go out to eat.”

Hooah, I’d love that. But I shake my head. “Nope. Not ditching your birthday party, pretty mama. Move boots.”

With her hand in mine, I lead the way then watch Emma as she straps Cally into the car seat. It basically looks like a standard five-point harness. Not that dissimilar to a jumpsuit and pack. I could totally figure that out.

“Easy peasy,” she says to me.

“Right.” I hold the passenger door open and let Emma slip in then angle to her side as she buckles. I push back the hair that covers her cheek. All my anxiety slips away when I touch her. “Happy birthday, baby. I’ll make up for all the ones I missed.”

She leans over and kisses me, making Cally giggle and sing words that don’t make sense.

“Now, are we ready?” She bites her lip, looking as if she’s nowhere near ready to end that kiss.

Neither am I. I glance into the back seat and watch Cally snuggle against the purple dog. “Absolutely.” But I can’t stop myself, and I lean over to kiss her lips.

When I pull back, her cheeks are pink and her eyes dreamy. Her hand catches my shirt. “We should totally find five minutes alone.”

The words go straight south, turning me on more than the two not-so-chaste kisses. “Five minutes?”

She giggles. “Five minutes all alone…”

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