Chapter 15 Brooks #2
She exhaled, shoulders dipping. “Alright,” she said finally, a huff more than a word. “We’ll figure this out. Just, please don’t leave me blindsided when it comes to telling Carolina, okay?”
“Never,” I promised. “I want her to hear it from both of us.”
“I agree,” Allie said. “But not today. We’ll come up with a plan when Mitchell and I get back from Palm Springs. I want her to understand that whatever changes are coming, she’s still our priority. That can’t change.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly.
“I know.” Allie’s gaze softened again, and for the first time since she’d walked in, there was no judgment in it, just understanding. “Congratulations on the baby, by the way.”
“Thanks.” My mouth tipped into a goofy, lopsided grin. “It’s another girl.”
Her brows shot up, surprise giving way to warmth. “That’s wonderful. Carolina’s going to be over the moon.”
The image of my daughter’s face when she finally found out made me smile. Carolina had been begging for a sister since she’d been old enough to talk.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “She’s gonna be a great big sister.”
Allie’s smile lingered as she slipped her sunglasses back on, keys jangling in her hand.
We said our goodbyes, and I stepped back as she slid into her car, giving her a small wave as she pulled out of the driveway. For a long moment, I stood there on the porch, watching until her taillights disappeared through the thick cover of trees.
Then I exhaled, shoulders easing.
Time to face the real circus.
I shut the door quietly behind me and started toward the stairs, intent on checking on Dani and hopefully reassuring her that the sky hadn’t fallen just because my daughter and ex-wife had caught her in my bed. The last thing I wanted was to give her any reason to run again.
I was halfway up the steps when the sound of clanking pans and laughter drifted from the kitchen.
Dani.
Carolina, too. Their voices melded together better than lemon and blueberry. Which, speaking of . . .
I froze in the doorway of the kitchen. Dani was perched on one of the barstools, hair a little mussed, cheeks still flushed, wearing yesterday’s leggings and one of my old T-shirts that swallowed her frame.
Across from her, Carolina sat with a juice box, blinking up at her like she was a real-life Disney princess.
A mixing bowl sat between them, half full of beige batter.
Carolina’s spring-like curls bounced as she stirred with serious concentration, her little arm working the whisk like she was powering the whole operation.
Dani leaned over, steadying the bowl with one hand, laughing when a fleck of batter dotted her wrist.
“Did you know,” Carolina said, eyes narrowing in deep thought, “that if you don’t sift the flour, your pancakes could turn out lumpy?”
Dani’s lips parted on a surprised smile. “Really?”
“Daddy never sifts, but I do. Also, room temperature eggs are the secret to fluffy batter. That’s what Mary Berry says.”
“Hm,” Dani mused. She leaned in, really listening, her chin propped on her hand like my kid was a world-class chef instead of a six-year-old with a Spice Girls shirt. “This Mary Berry sounds like she really knows her stuff.”
“Yup.” Carolina gave a decisive nod. “Now we need to let the batter rest for at least ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?!” Dani repeated, feigning outrage. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“That’s what cartoons are for,” Carolina said wisely, licking a smear of batter off her knuckle before Dani handed her a towel. “Do you like cartoons, Dani?”
“I do. Especially Scooby-Doo.”
I leaned against the doorframe, unseen for now, drinking it all in—the domesticity of it, the sound of their voices mingling like talking about their favorite cartoons was an everyday occurrence.
Dani looked completely at home perched there in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, indulging my daughter’s pancake TED Talk like it was gospel.
And fuck if that didn’t do something to me.
It shouldn’t have been erotic—my daughter stirring pancake batter, Dani laughing, soft and easy—but I couldn’t shake the memory of her spread out on that same counter last night, gasping my name while I feasted on her pussy. The contrast made my blood run hot.
But beneath the hunger was something else, something steadier.
Watching them together, I couldn’t help but look forward, not just back.
The vision was clear as day. The four of us—Carolina, me, Dani, and the little girl we were bringing into the world.
Pancakes, cartoons, messy batter on small fingers, and a life where my kitchen always sounded like this.
Warm and bright and full of love.
I swallowed hard, shifting my weight before they could catch me staring like a lovesick fool.
Carolina tilted her head suddenly. “Do you know how to make a birthday cake, Dani?”
Dani froze. Her fingers tightened around the bowl, a quick flash of panic flickering in her eyes. “I’ve baked a few before.”
“But like, a real one?” Carolina pressed. “With the layers and sprinkles? Daddy said that he would help me this year, but he burns pancakes, so . . .” Her little nose wrinkled.
Dani opened her mouth, then closed it again, fumbling for an answer that might satisfy my daughter. Her eyes darted quickly, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer that.
“Oh, you have to come to my party, too!”
That was my cue.
“Hey,” I said, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the room. Both of their heads swiveled toward me. Carolina grinned. Dani shot me a look over Carolina’s head, something between help me and don’t you dare laugh. “What’s this I hear about birthday cakes? I thought we were making pancakes.”
I just smirked, sliding a hand over the back of Dani’s chair as I leaned down to kiss the top of my daughter’s head.
Carolina’s little mouth tugged into a tiny pout. “We can do both.”
“Pancakes first,” I told her. “Go wash the berries, please.”
The moment Carolina dashed off toward the sink, Dani straightened, smoothing her hair like she’d just realized where she was. Her eyes flicked toward the hall, the front door, anywhere but me.
Shit.
I caught the shift in her posture, the panic blooming in her eyes like she was about to bolt. Sure enough, the second Carolina was distracted, Dani slid off the stool and padded toward the other room, barefoot and quiet.
I moved faster.
“Kitten.” My hand pressed flat to the wall above her shoulder, caging her in against the pantry. She froze, wide eyes flashing up at me. “Where are you going?”
“I shouldn’t be here.” Her voice cracked, the words brittle. “Not like this, with her—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t run.” I leaned in, keeping my voice low. “Not after last night.”
Her throat bobbed. “Brooks—”
“Dani, you have to stay for pancakes,” Carolina’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Daddy, make her stay. Pleeeassee.”
Apparently, the universe was in on the joke, too.
Dani pressed her lips into a thin line, torn between fight and fold.
I watched the emotions flicker across her face, one after another like flipping pages—panic, guilt, longing.
The urge to bolt was there in the tight set of her shoulders, but so was the softness I had felt last night, the tenderness when she’d whispered my name like it meant something more.
She wanted to run, but she didn’t want to leave.
Not really.
Her gaze darted toward the kitchen, where Carolina’s singsong voice carried on about berries and cartoons. When she looked back at me, her eyes were glassy, full of everything she couldn’t put into words.
“It’s just breakfast,” I said, softer now, close enough that my breath skimmed her temple. “Carolina already adores you, and I know that you want her to have this—to know her sister when she gets here.”
Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, I thought she’d shove past me, vanish out the front door, and slam it shut behind her. Instead, her shoulders dropped, the tension in her frame breaking like a dam. She sagged back against the wall, lips parting in defeat.
“Besides, you said you were hungry.”
She blew out a shaky laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. “Unbelievable. You’re guilt-tripping me with your daughter and her pancakes.”
I shamelessly grinned.
Dani glared, but the color in her cheeks betrayed her. “Fine, but we’re talking about this later,” she hissed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I guess I’m staying for pancakes.”
I brushed my thumb across her jaw, leaning in just enough to let her know I wasn’t letting go. “Damn right you are.”