Page 9 of Chasing I Do
“You didn’t start without me, did you?” Darcy asked.
Kylie stopped dancing and turned around. The moment she saw Darcy her smile went radiant, and she let out a giggle that had the power to change the world.
“Mommy,” she said, clapping her hands and jumping up and down, the heels of the borrowed pumps making little divots in the moist lawn. “Look, Sammy, it’s my mommy. Mommy, did you see us twirling?”
“I sure did.”
“I told her I should be twirling her ‘cuz I’m a boy, but she keeps twirling me,” Sam said, sounding put out.
Kylie jabbed her little fists into her hips and said, “It’s only ‘cuz I know how to do it better. When you twirl me, you step on my veil.”
And even though Sam was two years older, a foot taller, and hated playing princess dance party, he always seemed content to indulge Kylie. Even when he’d rather be playing video games. And it was clear by the sleepy eyes, he’d been playing the doting partner for a little while.
“Well, that was very nice of you to play Kylie’s game with her, Sam.” Darcy looked at her daughter, prompting, “Wasn’t it Kylie?”
“Uh huh,” Kylie said. Then, hands clasped in front of her, she started twisting side to side. “Thanks, Sammy,” she sang.
Sensing his exit had finally arrived, Sam grunted, then ran inside the house, shouting something about video game time as he passed his mom.
“Ten minutes, then it’s time to get ready for bed,” Jillian called back with a smile.
Jillian Conner was the exclusive cake designer for Belle Mont. The two had met a few years back in Mommy & Me. But it wasn’t until Jillian’s husband filed for divorce, and she started baking sweets in her home to supplement her income, that the two bonded. Now, they were close friends, supporting each other through the trials and limitations that came with single-motherhood.
Swapping babysitting hours, craft ideas, and sharing in the joy that came with kids.
“I think Sam’s dance card was full,” Jillian chuckled from the rocking chair on the front porch. She wore ballet flats, khaki capris, and a white top with a bright yellow gauzy scarf twisted into some complicated knot around her neck. Her short chestnut hair was layered and effortlessly sexy. Anyone else might run the risk of looking like a soccer mom, but only someone with Jillian’s grace could pull off holly-homemaker with class.
“I think it’s because the carriage is about ready to turn into a pumpkin.” Darcy made her way toward the lawn to pick up her daughter. “Are you going to turn into a mouse?”
“Not a mouse, a dog!”
“Well, then I’d better get you to bed before you start barking at me,” she said, sending Kylie into an eruption of giggles that filled the night—and Darcy’s chest.
It was crazy how one giggle, one little smile could make all of the problems that had seemed so insurmountable moments ago vanish.
Kylie wasn’t just her daughter. She was her everything.
They may be a small family, but their love was mighty. Darcy carried enough for two parents—enough to last a lifetime. The day she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d made a promise, to herself and to her baby, that they would live a life built on happiness, honesty, and never-ending love.
Three things Darcy never had much of growing up.
She had sacrificed a lot to hold true to that promise, but when she heard her daughter’s joyous laughter float up into the night sky, she knew it was worth every hardship.
Sometimes, it seemed as if both of their lives had begun the day Kylie was born. Darcy, who had been on her own for most of her life, found herself alone once again after Kyle’s death. But then Kylie came along, and suddenly emotions and this tangible connection that Darcy had struggled for years to find came bubbling to the surface with such force they infused every corner of her life.
A life, she thought, taking in the small guest cottage they called home, that she was proud of.
“Let’s get washed up for bed,” Darcy said.
“But they’re playing the chicken dance. I do the chicken good. Look.” Kylie tucked her arms in, like wings, and flapped for her life.
“You do, but it’s way past bedtime.” Darcy set her daughter on her feet and led them to the porch. “Say goodnight to Auntie Jillian.”
“But they haven’t cut the cake.” Kylie’s lower lip quivered in a way that made saying no hard. “And it’s my favorite kind.”
“And what kind would that be?” Darcy asked, her eyes on Jillian in question, because she’d been so busy doing damage control, she wasn’t even sure what kind of cake the bride had ordered.
“The iced kind,” Jillian said, and Kylie’s head bobbled in agreement.
