20. Garrett
GARRETT
The early-evening spring breeze is cool against my cheek as Athena and I walk to the neighborhood park. But as cool as the temperature might be, it isn’t cold enough for me to wear a jacket. I only have on a hoody.
Athena is carrying Peony, who is bundled in her coat. She’s babbling in a toddler language, and hell, she has a lot to say. To Athena.
Not to me.
“Peony seems happier now,” I point out .
“She had a nap.” Athena smiles fondly at my daughter.
“When does she usually nap?”
Athena shrugs. “Whenever she needs one.”
I might not know much about young kids, but even I know they have regular naptimes. As someone who thrives on keeping to a routine, I can appreciate that. “She doesn’t have a regular naptime?”
“Nothing specific.”
“So, what? You wait until she’s cranky before putting her down?” There’s no judgment in my tone. I’m just trying to understand Peony’s schedule…and possible triggers for her meltdowns.
Another shrug of Athena’s narrow shoulders. “Pretty much.”
“What time’s her bedtime? ”
“Whenever she gets tired.”
That sounds…not right. “So she doesn’t have a regular bedtime either?”
“No,” Athena snaps, startling me. “She doesn’t.”
I stop walking and gently grab her arm, forcing her to look at me. The glare she hurls my way is hot enough to scorch me to the ground.
I drop my hand away from her. “I’m not judging you or Kenda.” Even if it might sound like I am. “But Kenda isn’t here, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put Peony on some sort of routine. For her benefit.”
Athena’s scowl doesn’t soften. If anything, it deepens. “What kind of routine?”
“She eats and sleeps on a regular schedule. Maybe you can take her to the playground at a set time too, so she knows she can look forward to that each day and knows what to expect.”
Peony squirms in Athena’s arms, her attention on something behind Athena. “Doggie.” She points to the small white dog. Her face is glowing, an adorable toothy grin spreading across it.
I step onto the road, giving the older woman and her dog room to get past.
The woman stops and beams at Peony. “Well, aren’t you as cute as a fluffy baby duckling?”
“Doggie.”
The dog peers up at us, its tail wagging at supersonic speed.
“You can stroke her if you’d like.” The woman splits a knowing look between Athena and me. “Lucy’s good with young kids. I have a granddaughter your daughter’s age, and Lucy is always happy when the little girl fusses over her.”
I glance at Athena. She knows a helluva lot more about Peony and little kids in general than I do—other than the part about kids needing a routine. Maybe she won’t think it’s a good idea.
“Would you like to pet the dog?” she asks Peony.
Peony nods, her head moving faster than Lucy’s tail.
“Sit, Lucy,” the woman says, delight smoothing the edges of the command. “The little girl is going to stroke you.”
Lucy drops her ass on the sidewalk, her tail still wagging at high speed. I don’t know who’s more excited about Peony getting to pet the dog—Peony or Lucy.
Athena demonstrates how to stroke Lucy. Peony squats next to the dog and lets Athena guide her hand over the dog’s curly hair.
“Looks like your mommy and daddy need to get you a puppy.” The woman winks at me, and I try not to groan.
A dog is not what I need. Especially not now.
Not when I have a rapidly approaching deadline, a book that is a long way from being completed, and a toddler I’m learning to navigate my life around.
Adding a dog to my chaotic life will be the iceberg that sunk Titanic.
I smile at the woman, hoping Peony didn’t understand her and get ideas of her own. Her stuffed panda is more our speed. Besides, she’ll have plenty of time to hang out with Jasper and Butterscotch once I introduce her to my brothers.
I check the time on my phone. “Time to go to the playground, Peony.” To meet your grandparents. “Say goodbye to Lucy.”
“Bye-bye.” She waves to the dog and raises her hands above her head, gesturing for Athena to pick her up.
Mom and Dad are already at the playground when we arrive. They’re on a bench, watching a boy who looks to be about three years old climb up the slide ladder. A little girl is waiting at the bottom of the ladder for her turn.
They are the only kids here. Two sets of parents are standing off to the side, talking and keeping an eye on their kids.
I recognize the parents. Both sets live on my street, and I’ve said hi to them plenty of times. They know I’m single—or I assume they know I’m single. It’s not like my relationship status has come up in conversation.
I inwardly cringe. While I might be ready to admit to myself Peony is my daughter, I’m not ready to admit it to anyone who isn’t part of my inner circle until I have the paternity test results.
And even then, it’s no one’s business.
But it might be tricky to avoid the truth coming out if they come to talk to me. The two men are fans of my books. And because they are fans, I can’t be rude and brush off their questions or lie to them, only for the lie to later slap me in the face .
Christ, please don’t come over.
Athena takes Peony to the toddler swing, and I walk to where my parents are sitting. Mom is practically vibrating as I draw closer, her gaze darting between me and Peony.
Dad has on his skeptical face. He’s missing the facts he needs to draw a valid conclusion, and it’s not sitting right with him.
But skepticism isn’t the only emotion in the tilt of his head, the purse of his lips, the lift of his brow.
A slim ray of hope shines through the small cracks in his expression.
His eyes remain on me, as if commanding himself not to look at the little girl who could be his granddaughter. As if afraid of falling in love with her before we have the lab results—in case he ends up with a broken heart.
“Hi, Mom. Dad. Sorry we’re late.” I hug Mom.
“You’re not late, son.” Dad gives me a one-armed hug. “Your mom was getting a little impatient waiting at home.”
A nervous chuckle escapes me. “How long have you been here?”
Mom flicks the air with her hand, waving off the question. “Just a few minutes.”
Dad huffs out an eye roll of a laugh. “More like twenty.”
She scoffs and tosses him a cross glance. “Don’t exaggerate.” Her attention shifts to Peony, and she misses his expression that almost has me snickering. It’s his Really? expression. His I’m-not-wrong face. “So that’s her? Peony? My granddaughter?”
“Your potential granddaughter,” Dad mutters. His comment lands him an elbow in the stomach.
I ignore their amusing bickering. I’m used to it. “Yes, that’s her.”
Mom starts to walk toward the swings. I hook my hand on her arm, keeping her from advancing more than three steps. “Maybe wait a minute.” My voice is kept low so as not to reach curious ears.
Mom pats my hand like I’m a little kid who needs placating. “I’m just going to say hi to her and her nanny and see how things go. Her nanny is very pretty, by the way. And I’m guessing single?” Mom’s eyes gleam with matchmaking mischief, and I barely keep in a groan .
“Don’t even go there.” The pitch of my growled voice is so low, it almost scrapes the artificial grass covering the playground surface.
“Well, you are single, Garrett. And now you’re a single father. Not to mention a great catch.”
I huff out a grunt. “I’m not a trout.”
Mom snickers. “No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to fall in love. I can’t remember the last time you were in love…after you and Kenda broke up.” Pain flashes on Mom’s face, the reality of Kenda’s death no doubt sitting heavily on her too.
She pats my hand again and makes her way to the swings.
I don’t try to stop her this time. I just brace myself for the next part of her plan…whatever that might be.
Athena is gently pushing Peony on the toddler swing and talking to her. She doesn’t seem to notice my mother heading their way. Her attention is solely focused on Peony, who is hugging Poppy and grinning at Athena.
Sighing at how everything could go south in the next few minutes, I walk over to join them. I reach them in time to hear Mom introduce herself to Athena.
I’m not sure what I expected Athena’s reaction to be, especially when she was leery about my parents meeting Peony. What I hadn’t expected was her warm, welcoming smile directed at my mother.
What the hell did Mom say to her?
The two women shake hands, the smile never leaving Athena’s face.
Athena stops the swing’s motion. “Peony, this is your grandmother.” She points to my mother.
Mom looks at Peony and makes a funny, strangled sound. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Oh.” The word releases on a muffled sob. “You have his eyes.” She turns to me. Her eyes glisten in the setting angle of the sun. “She has your eyes.”
She turns back to Peony. “You, sweet little one, can call me Granny. And who’s that?” Mom points to Poppy.
Peony gifts her one of her shy smiles and cuddles her panda. “Poppy.”
“That’s a lovely name. And I love your name too. It’s so pretty.”
Peony’s smile widens, revealing tiny teeth .
Mom releases a small noise. A noise that says: Oh, aren’t you just the cutest? “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Is it…can I help swing you?”
Peony pumps her legs, the action lacking the coordination needed to get the swing moving again.
Athena nods at my mother, telling her without words to go ahead, and steps to the side. Mom takes her place, and I watch the three of them interact. Peony doesn’t show any signs of being scared of my mother. Just the opposite.
In less than thirty seconds, Mom has won her over. Why is it Peony seems to be accepting of everyone else but still uncertain about me? What have I done to make her treat me like I’m a leper?
Feeling like they’re better off without me standing there, I walk to the bench where Dad is sitting.
He shakes his head in resignation as I sit next to him. “God, I hope your mother’s heart won’t be broken. She was devastated enough when she found out about Lily and about Simone’s hysterectomy.”