Page 19 of Everywhere You Look

“And then it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be with me, so she left. It didn’t matter to me that the baby Samantha was carrying wasn’t mine. I loved her, and I loved that baby, and if she had let me, I would have been a father to that child. I tried. For months after Samantha left me, I tried to find ways to be around. I begged, I sent money, I did everything I could. Eventually, I had to cut my losses. She didn’t want to be with me and I had no rights to the baby, and that was that.”

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. Things happen the way they were meant to. If we’d stayed together, I probably wouldn’t have entered the draft. I was already leaning towards giving up on that dream. I would’ve stayed in Michigan at the university and maybe tried my hand at coaching so that I’d have a more stable job and could be there for my family. I wouldn’t havehad my NFL career, and I probably never would’ve met you.” I bump my shoulder against his, relishing the small smile that plays at his lips when we touch. “I think a part of me will always mourn the loss of what I thought I could have, but that’s not the point here. The point of me telling you this is that I need you to understand something about me. You asked me earlier—what happens when I want a real family one day? Luke, corazón, you and your kids are my real family.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand between us to stop him.

“I know what you’re going to say. But biology means nothing to me when it comes to family. I mean, just look at my parents. I’m only biologically related to IronDad, but does that make me love my Pops any less? Is Kira any less my sister just because she is biologically related to Pops? Do you think IronDad loves her less because she didn’t come from his genetic material? Family is not about who you share DNA with, it’s about who you love. You are my best friend in the entire world, Luke. Lemmie, Mellie and Ollie are my favorite little people.” I tap a knuckle against my chest, feeling my own heartbeat thumping under my ribs. “And in here, the four of you are already mine. I’m not going to change my mind, Luke. I’m in this with you, and if legallybinding myself to you is what it takes to keep our family together? That’s a no-fucking-brainer to me.”

Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between mine, his chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths. I reach out and cup his cheek, feeling his stubble tickling my skin and letting the warmth of my palm steady him in the moment. He leans into my touch, and a flurry of butterflies flap their wings in my stomach. He doesn’t say anything for long moments, just lightly nuzzles his cheek against my hand. For a moment, I think he might still shut me down, that baring my truth and my heart won’t be enough to convince him that I am so serious about this, but then…

“We’re going to need ground rules,” he says and I nod frantically.

“I love rules. Any rules, all the rules,” I sputter, unable to hide my excitement at the prospect of all of this becoming real.

Luke closes his eyes for a second, then opens them up slowly. Blinking at me from under his thick, black lashes, his irises rimmed in a shade of gold I could so easily get lost in if I let myself. Finally, a smile reaches his eyes.

“Ask me again,” he whispers, and an involuntary shudder runs through me. Up here on this ledge overlooking the ocean, I can’t exactly get down on one knee again. But that doesn’t stop me fromcradling Luke’s hands in mine and giving them three firm squeezes.

“Luke Daniel Cannon, my best friend. My person. You mean more to me than anyone I have ever known, and I would be a lucky man to get to spend my life trying to make you happy. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?”

The look on Luke’s face—a mixture of gratitude and something I can’t quite recognize but that has his cheeks turning the sweetest shade of pink under the scruff of his beard—settles in my chest like warm honey. For the briefest of seconds, I forget that this isn’t quite real. I forget the sense of friendship and obligation and all the other scary things and let myself sink into this alternate reality where I’m asking Luke Cannon to be my husband and expecting him to say yes.

“Yes, Dean Hayden McKenna. I would love to marry you.”

9

HALF A LOVE STORY

Luke

“Alright, mis pollitas, one more book and then it’s time for bed. For real, this time.”

After our impromptu almost-engagement at the fabulous and romantic offices of Morris & Mason, followed by arealengagement overlooking the ocean, Dean and I rushed home to gather the girls from next door. After the talk with Lori and all the excitement of the afternoon, we probably should have taken the free time allotted to us by Kira’s babysitting to go over what the hell our new relationship even means, but I think we were both eager to get home and have the kids close. I know I was.

Also, I might be just a little scared shitless to find out what being sort-of real-sort-of-fake engaged to bevery-legally, very-confusingly-married to my best friend might look like.

So instead of being mature adults and sitting down to hammer out a plan and a list of rules for our upcoming nuptials, we scooped the kids up from Kira’s house and took them to Pier 39 for hot dogs and to check out the sea lions that live on the pier. Then, after a trip to Build-A-Bear where Dean spoiled each of the kids rotten with two stuffed animals each and as many teddy bear-sized clothes as they could possibly want, we booked a last-minute tourist cruise around the bay. Sailing from the wharf to the Golden Gate Bridge, down and under the Bay Bridge and back again, tired Ollie out—she fell asleep on the car ride home—but energized the twins. Which is why Lemmie and Mellie are fidgeting under the covers, begging Dean to read them a fifth and sixth bedtime story instead of going to sleep.

“Sola un libro, mi amor. Choose carefully,” Dean says, and Lemmie and Mellie communicate via their twin telepathy before looking back to Dean with their consensus, answering together.

“Beatrice Bunny.”

“Beatrice Bunnyit is,” Dean says, holding out a hand to me. He’s squished into the child-sized bed along with the girls, his long legs dangling off the side as they cuddle up into him under a mountain ofpink and purple blankets. I look at their bookshelf, which is practically bursting at the seams with colorful, well-loved picture books. I easily spotBeatrice Bunnyamongst the sea of rainbows and hand it over to Dean.Beatrice Bunnyis one of their favorites, and it just so happens that the book was a gift from Dean on their last birthday. They love when he exaggerates his Tennessee accent when doing Beatrice and her farm animal pals’ voices.

I settle into the second bed on the other side of the nightstand—Lem and Mel each have their own, but they’ve been going through a phase where they prefer to share, and I’ve been going through a phase where I refuse to say no to them—and lay on my side, propping my head into my hand while I listen to Dean read the story.

He has an incredible amount of patience with them, even when they’re negotiating for extra bedtime stories or second desserts like little terrorists. Dean doesn’t rush through the story, even though it’s the fifth one tonight and about the hundredth time he’s read it since he moved in. He takes his time, giving the book just as much enthusiasm as the first time around. When the farmer has said goodnight to Beatrice and all of her friends and the story comes to an end, Lemmie and Mellie have both started to close their eyes, clearly fighting a losing battle with sleep.Dean closes the book gently and leans down, kissing each girl on top of their blonde, pigtailed heads before shifting to stand.

“Dean?” Mellie asks, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the laugh that wants to burst out of me for thinking that getting out of this room would be easy tonight.

“Yes, mi pollita?”

“Are you going to live with us forever?” Lemmie asks, finishing her sister's thought. The girls blink up at him with sleepy eyes, and Dean sighs. We haven’t discussed much about our living arrangements with the girls besides the fact that they live with me now and Dean will be around to help take care of them. We certainly haven’t mentioned marriage. Losing their mother is an unthinkable thing for kids to have to deal with, and we thought it best to ease Lem and Mel into their new normal.

I mean, I’m thirty-four years old and I can barely wrap my head around everything that’s happened in the last year. I didn't want to overwhelm the kids, too.

Dean looks at me, silently asks for permission, and I nod.

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