Page 97 of Legacy

So I’m left with two options: be selfish or let her go.

Neither feels like a win for both of us.

All I know is that walking in and hearing Reagan and my daughter laughing fills every pore in my body.

Bea’s own mother won’t even make the trip to the neighborhood to see her now that she’s on the mend and walking around. And it isn’t because she wants to spare Bea the sight of her while she’s still healing. It’s because she still doesn’t give a shit.

When Sera first got here, I struggled with the thought that she might want to play a part after all these years. Nothing prepared me for her decision that she still didn’t. The meds wore off, and she confirmed she wanted nothing to do with our daughter, and my heart hurt for Bea all over again.

At least Bea doesn’t know what’s going on. The sooner we can take care of the Iron Sinners and get Sera out of the clubhouse, the better. I’m protecting Sera because she gave Bea life, but I can’t keep coming face-to-face with the woman who abandoned my daughter.

Every sideways glance.

Every time I spot her drinking with the patch bunnies.

I want to kick her to the fucking curb and not give a shit what happens.

“Surprise!” Bea runs across the kitchen when I turn the corner, throwing herself at me the moment she’s within reach. “Happy Birthday, Daddy.”

Her little arms wrap around me, while Reagan and Margaret watch from the island. Margaret is on her usual stool while Reagan leans over the counter. Flour dusts the side of her neck, and her blonde ponytail is wild and messy.

Sitting in front of them is the source of the mess in the kitchen.

“You made me a cake?” I pick up Bea, brushing her blonde hair off her face.

“Reagan made it.”

“Ibakedit,” Reagan clarifies. “You’re the one who made it so pretty.”

The frosting is a mess of swirls and a rainbow of colors. There’s no pattern except for the flower on the top.

“It’s perfect. I love it.” I plant a kiss on Bea’s cheek, and she wraps her arms around my neck.

I mouththank youto Reagan, but she shakes her head and mouthsit was all herback.

Sera doesn’t understand what she’s missing out on. And yet, this woman who is supposed to just be her nanny gives everything she has to my daughter.

They cook together and color together. Reagan clearly let Bea decorate the cake, even though I know from the cupcakes they made last weekend that if Reaganhad been the one handling it, she’d have decorated it differently.

Every day before school, Reagan wrangles Bea’s hair into a new braid or hairstyle. And every night when the sun sets and it’s cool enough to be outside, Reagan sits on the porch while Bea runs around.

She’s given up her whole life for us, and it adds to the already heavy weight on my chest.

“That’s a big hug, Daddy.” Bea laughs, and I realize how tight I’m squeezing her.

“Sorry. I just love my cake so much.”

“And me?”

“And you.” I set her down, tapping her on the nose before she runs off.

Her blonde braid swishes across her back as she meets Reagan at the island.

“Can we cut it now?” Bea slides onto the stool beside Margaret.

“Before dinner?”

“Reagan says birthdays are exceptions. No vegetables either.” She tips her chin up proudly.

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