23. Garrett
GARRETT
My inbox pings with a new email notification. Zara is due here any minute, and I’m more than ready to take a short break from writing. The chapter I’m working on is an emotional, heart-stopping, breath-stealing rollercoaster.
Now that I have a daughter, who I already love and would do anything for, writing about a kidnapped child is emotionally draining. The story hits too close to home.
How would I feel if Peony were kidnapped? She might be indifferent toward me, but enough of her pieces have woven into my heart, if something happened to her, the organ would unravel, cease beating, turn to dust.
I shake my head, clearing the thought away, and check the inbox. My gut clenches. The email is from the lab that runs the paternity tests.
I take a deep breath and hover the mouse over the subject heading, my clicking finger suddenly paralyzed. Are you ready to see what it says?
Am I ready to find out if the girl who doesn’t want to be my daughter really is my daughter? Or maybe the testing facility will make my life easier and tell me someone else is her father.
Then I can ship her and Athena off, and Peony and her distrust of me will no longer be my problem .
Except, what will happen to them? Does Athena have the name of another man whose doorstep she and Peony can show up on? Do they have a place they can call home? Hopefully if there is another guy, Peony accepts him, even though she hasn’t accepted me.
Are you ready to know the truth?
Peony’s giggles outside my office window tear my attention from the inbox.
She and Athena are leaping from one stepping stone to the next, along the path weaving between the trees.
Peony’s coordination isn’t there yet, and her leaping is more like stepping.
But she doesn’t seem to care. She loves the game, which they frequently play.
She steps onto the next stone and giggles again.
Am I ready?
I power off the laptop. I’ll wait until I’m with Zara at the playground. For better or for worse, no matter what the results say, I need my best friend by my side when I read them.
My gaze returns to Peony, but my brain is no longer interested in dwelling on what the email might say. It revisits the same memory that has plagued me for the past five days.
Zara’s kiss.
It happened so quickly, and it was an accident. I know that. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop dwelling on the feel of Zara’s lips on mine. I thought about it all weekend, when my focus was supposed to be on the veterans participating in the Wilderness Warriors camping trip.
I thought about it yesterday and today, when my focus was supposed to be on the damn book that’s due to my editor in three months and eight days.
If I don’t get the kiss out of my thoughts soon, I’ll never finish the story.
I shove the air out of my lungs in a frustrated breath and push to my feet.
The doorbell rings, and I go answer it. I unlocked the door earlier, knowing Zara was coming over, but Athena must have relocked it.
Zara is standing on my front stoop in body-hugging black jeans and a bright-pink cardigan. The cardigan’s neckline reveals the ripe, copper- brown swell of her breasts, and my mouth waters at the thought of running my tongue over them, tasting them.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
Eyes up, soldier. You’re not supposed to be looking at her breasts.
“C’mon in. She’s outside playing with Athena.” I step aside to let Zara in. “I’ll round her up.” Whether Peony wants to listen to me is something else entirely.
She and Athena are making their way back to the house as Zara and I join them outside.
“Hey, little flower.” The nickname slips out so easily. I have no idea if Peony hates it or not. She reacts the same way regardless of what name I use.
She looks up, and her face brightens. For a millisecond, I allow myself to believe the reaction is directed my way. “Za-wa.” She doesn’t give me another glance, doesn’t notice the bubble of hope pop in my chest.
I should be used to it by now, but her reaction is a knee to the gut, a slap to the face. I have no clue how to gain her trust, how to get her to accept me. Sure, she no longer screams when I’m around, but it’s hardly a ringing endorsement.
Peony rushes over to us, her little legs covering a surprising distance in such a short time.
She flings her arms around Zara’s leg, and Zara laughs that rich sound that reaches into my soul. Just hearing it soothes some of the lacerations from Peony’s indifference toward me. It’s a kiss to the…
Goddammit, stop thinking about Zara’s kiss.
It can’t happen again.
Zara crouches next to Peony and strokes her cheek, brushing off a bit of smudged dirt. “I heard you and your daddy are going to the playground. Can I come too?”
Peony leans over Zara’s thigh and wiggles as if to pull herself onto Zara’s lap.
The sudden movement knocks Zara off balance, and she falls backward onto her ass, laughing. “I hope that’s a yes.”
“I think she wants you to carry her there.” My words are strung together from a guess rather than actual knowledge of what Peony wants .
I look to Athena for conformation, but she doesn’t notice. She’s watching Zara and Peony, her face paler than normal. I shrug it off. It must be my imagination, brought on by stress, that she looks like she’s seen a ghost from her past.
“I can do that.” Zara adjusts Peony to straddle her hip and starts to stand, using her free hand for balance. But it’s as if her legs refuse to cooperate, and she can’t quite push herself to her feet as she staggers upright.
My arm goes around her waist, keeping her steady, and I help her stand. “You okay?” I don’t let go of her, the solid warmth of her in my arms tugging back the memories of her lips on mine.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stiff from removing the shelves this afternoon.”
I frown. “Your shoulders are hurting again?” If you ask me, her shoulders aren’t the only things that are causing her problems if she’s having trouble standing.
“They’re not bad.”
“Which means they are hurting.” I look at Peony, who’s watching me with wide eyes, but I have no idea what she’s thinking. She doesn’t seem scared of me this time, but I can’t be sure. Her opinion of me changes so frequently. “Maybe I should carry her to the playground.”
Zara’s gaze flicks briefly to Athena, then to me. The tiniest frown divots between her eyebrows, but it’s probably only noticeable to me. “I really will be fine, Garrett. Promise.”
“I can carry her,” Athena offers, her words coming out in a rush.
“No, you’re off for the rest of the evening,” I remind her. “Other than to help me get Peony to bed.”
I’ve made progress establishing a regular routine for Peony over the past few days, but I rely on Athena to put her to bed. We’re nowhere near the point where Peony will let me do it.
“Can I carry you, Peony?” I hold out my arms to her.
Peony buries her face into the side of Zara’s breast, which is answer enough.
Athena hands me Peony’s cardigan with tiny daisies embroidered on it that was hanging on the back of the wrought-iron chair. “In case she gets cold.” She chews on the inside of her bottom lip. “Are you sure I can’t come with you? I don’t have to come as the nanny. I could come as a family friend.”
“You’re with Peony pretty much all day. You need a break.”
She rapidly shakes her head. “I honestly don’t need a break. I enjoy spending time with her.”
“Maybe it would be good for Peony to have a break from you for a little bit,” Zara says, not at all unkindly. “It will give her a chance to get to know her father without using you as her security blanket to avoid him.”
From the way Athena’s eyes widen, it’s obvious she heard something different in Zara’s words than I did. But what Zara said makes sense.
Athena’s gaze implores me not to side with Zara, begs me in a thousand different ways to let her join us.
But I won’t be swayed. I trust Athena with Peony—she hasn’t given me a reason not to—but I trust Zara’s instincts more. She might not be a mother, yet, or work with kids, but that doesn’t matter. “Zara’s right. Peony needs to learn she can rely on me and I will never hurt her.”
Just a few more minutes. A few more minutes and I’ll finally know the truth about my role in her creation.
My phone grows heavy in my pocket, the email holding the test results weighing it down.
Athena slowly nods. “Alright. I’ll stay here.” But she still doesn’t seem convinced our going without her is a good idea.
Zara and I walk toward the playground Athena takes Peony to almost daily.
“You sure you’re okay carrying her?” I ask Zara once we’ve walked past several houses. “She’s not too much for your shoulder?”
“She’s featherlight. Aren’t you, Peony?” She bounces Peony in her arms.
Peony grins at her and reaches for the tree charm dangling from the chain around Zara’s neck. She inspects it and says something in toddler talk.
“My grandmother gave it to me,” Zara explains, as if answering a question I missed. Or maybe she understood Peony and it’s only me who can’t understand toddler talk .
Peony releases the charm and points to a ginger cat lounging on a nearby driveway. “Kitty!”
We stop walking. The cat slowly stretches to its paws, as if it has all day, and plods over to us. It curls its chubby body around Zara’s leg.
“See kitty.” Peony points at the cat again.
Zara lowers Peony to the ground. The cat meows and lets me stroke it, greedily soaking up the attention.
Peony crouches next to the cat and clumsily pats it. The cat purrs and rubs against her side.
Peony giggles and has what sounds like an animated conversation with the cat. I have no idea what she’s saying, but her enthusiasm has me grinning.
Peony looks my way, and I pretend for a beat that her bright smile is directed at me. That she’s happy to see me and not just delighted the cat’s super friendly.