by Ciara Shayee
~ oOo ~
On days like this, his baby girl’s birthday, Reagan found himself struggling to contain his sheer happiness and contentment at having his daughter, and subsequently his niece, granddaughter, and grandson, back in his life. As he stood by the fire pit, cold beer in hand, under the soft glow of the fairy lights he’d helped to string over the garden, listening to the warm laughter of his family surrounding him, Reagan couldn’t imagine a happier moment.
At the sound of Marley’s giggles, he turned, grinning when he spotted her.
“Laker, spin me!”
Laker chuckled, holding her hands and swinging her around in wide circles, mindful not to hit anybody with her feet. Her laughter was like music, the soft fabric of her dress fanned out in a pretty, pink wave as she flew through the air. “Enough, Little Sweet?”
“Yeah,” she panted, beaming up at him.
Abruptly, Reagan felt a pang in his gut. He’d seen that look. He’d seen that face, replicated almost exactly, though it was some fifteen years earlier, and he had been the recipient of the enormous, toothy smile.
It had been Reagan and his baby girl, his sweet little Indie.
Not for the first time, he wondered about his precious granddaughter’s tender heart, and whether it would cope if Laker were to decide he wanted to return to Italy permanently. As a father of two, and now Pawpaw to four, he recognised the look on Marley’s face whenever she looked at Laker—which was often. He’d witnessed the depth of her idolisation and had seen the way he doted on her in return.
It was the same way Indie had looked at him, once upon a time.
Reagan had watched as Marley became increasingly dependent upon Laker—starting back in Montana when he’d been the one she sought out for comfort and continuing even now that she was home with the rest of her family, with a multitude of people to choose from.
Still, almost always without fail, she chose Laker.
A small part of Reagan could recognise his own jealousy. After missing out on his only granddaughter’s first five years of life, he wanted to be the one to comfort her now. He wanted to be the strong protector for her that he’d been for Indie before her abduction. Sometimes, she let him be that for her, but more often than not, it was Laker she wanted.
Reagan watched Indie cross the patio, using a baby wipe to clean something from Marley’s cheek. Presumably chocolate cake, as she’d been sneaking over to the food table frequently throughout the evening. Just a half hour ago, he’d chuckled at Marley as she sat on his lap with a big smile ringed with chocolate ‘fostin,’ as she called it.
“Laker, dance with Mummy, now!”
Much like everybody else, Indie couldn’t refuse a request from her daughter, so Reagan soon found himself watching Laker sweep Indie around the patio. The music playing was instrumental; soft, lilting, and sweet. Reagan sighed, taking a gulp of his beer.
It wasn’t just Marley who’d become unexpectedly attached to Laker. He’d be a fool to think otherwise. Especially with the proof swaying in front of him. Reagan liked to think of himself as an observant man—that said, there were some things he wished he didn’t have to observe.
With his daughter and granddaughter irrevocably attached to Laker, Reagan couldn’t help but feel helpless—a feeling he despised. More and more, he feared losing his girls. Not to an unknown entity this time, but to a man he saw as a second son. He’d just gotten them back, but now, with every passing day, he watched their bond with Laker grow. And he wondered on a daily basis just how much that would affect his own link with them.
“They’re not going anywhere, you know? You aren’t going to lose them, Ray.”
Reagan took another swig of his beer, shrugging as Peter hit the nail on the head. His thoughts, clearly, had been written all over his face. “You’ll be telling me that you haven’t thought the exact same thing about Grace and Ryan, next.”
Peter followed Reagan’s gaze in time to see Ryan gently tugging Grace toward Laker and Indie. She had a huge smile on her face and was giggling like he’d never heard her giggle before. Though she was acting reluctant, she soon settled into Ryan’s arms, handing over her camera for Marley to take photos—after extracting a promise from the six-year-old that she’d stay sitting in her seat and would keep the camera strap around her wrist. Yeah, everybody had noticed the bond between Indie and Laker—but they’d also seen the strengthening ties between Ryan and Grace.
“Hmph.”
Reagan chuckled at his oldest friend, reaching out to rest his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You know what, though? Don’t they look happy?”
Peter sighed, letting himself observe his daughter as objectively as possible. And yes, Grace did look happy. Exceptionally so. Happier, in fact, than he’d seen her look in a long, long time. The music picked up, Laker and Ryan taking great delight in attempting to steer Indie and Grace in slightly quicker, more complicated moves.
The girls managed to escape when the song changed, and Ryan turned to tease Laker about his playlist. Grace and Indie swiped Marley from her seat, joining Sarah on the loungers beside the pool. She was feeding Bodhi, but he whined and reached for his mother, so Sarah happily handed him over. Reagan grinned as he watched Indie with Bodhi, bending to kiss Marley’s head as they crammed themselves onto one lounger, Grace and Sarah each having their own. Despite her rocky start, and young age, Indie was a natural with both of her babies.
Reagan couldn’t be prouder.
His smile faltered only a little when he saw where Indie’s eyes moved once she’d settled Bodhi against her chest, Marley between her legs.
Laker.
A quick glance at Grace revealed her attention was on Ryan. Peter had also noticed, judging by his narrowed gaze.
“Should we be letting this happen?” Peter asked quietly after a few moments.
Reagan shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. But to be honest with you, as much as I hate the thought of my baby girl not needing me, I hate the idea of pushing her away by making an issue of this, even more. Besides, those boys have their heads screwed on tight. They know better than to fuck up with our girls.”
Resigned, Peter chugged the last of his beer and set the empty bottle down on the glass table nearby. The sound pulled the girls’ attention in their direction; the men offered their daughters smiles, hoping they wouldn’t see the concern on their faces and come over. Thankfully, Indie and Grace were distracted enough by the children and Sarah to stay put for the moment.
“Hey, Ray?”
“Yeah, Pete?”
“So, Ryan and Laker…they’re good kids, and they’ll take care of our girls if that’s what Grace and Indie choose, I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun messing with them first, right?”
Reagan and Peter shared wide smiles. “Of course not! Damn, man, Penny and Kay wouldn’t expect anything less, right? They’d want us to make these guys sweat like hell. If we have to suffer through our girls potentially dating, they can at least suffer for a bit, too.”
Rubbing their hands together with glee, Reagan and Peter accepted the fact that they had no control over who the girls loved, and made plans to make Laker and Ryan work for their trust.
After all, they had to prove themselves worthy of their precious girls.
So what if Reagan and Peter planned to have a little fun in the meantime?
~ oOo ~
Later, once the blanket of darkness had tucked them into its welcome folds, the entire group settled around the fire pit. They sprawled out on blankets, in picnic chairs, and on folded duvets Laker fetched from inside the house. Marley and Carl-Roman were losing steam at this point, and Bodhi had long since fallen asleep on Indie’s chest—Chase fast asleep on Archie’s lap—but nobody wanted to send them indoors to bed. Not yet. Not when they were enjoying themselves so much and their smiles were still coming thick and fast.
Reagan and Peter had claimed the two camping chairs, citing their age. Heidi and Pippa claimed one blanket, Sar
ah and Andy the other. Archie, Chase, Carl-Roman, and Marley were clustered on one duvet, leaving the last one for Ryan, Laker, Indie, and Grace to share.
Indie and Grace talked quietly together until Ryan groaned behind them, stretching one long leg out beside Grace. Her eyes darted instinctively to his foot as it passed her, then his ankle. The fabric of his lightweight linen trousers rode up, exposing the beginning of the scarred section of his leg. She winced, pained baby-blue eyes flying to Indie’s. They’d both been distraught when Ryan first revealed his long-healed wounds to them.
They’d both had long, guilt-ridden sessions with Ines the following day.
“Mummy, can I come sit with you?”
Indie watched Marley crawl across the grass toward her. She already had Bodhi lying across her so it would be a very tight squeeze, and not at all comfortable for any of them, if Marley squashed herself onto her lap, too. Laker saved her the guilt of having to say ‘no.’
“Little Sweet, will you come sit with me? I haven’t had a cuddle all evening!”
Indie twisted so she could see the mock outrage on Laker’s face without waking Bodhi, smiling as Marley giggled tiredly and scampered into his lap, curling herself against his chest. Her lips turned upwards further when her daughter stuck her thumb firmly in her mouth. She only did it occasionally, but she and Bodhi were both thumb suckers when they were over-tired.
“Thank you,” she mouthed to Laker, her cheeks flushing at his response—a wink and a crooked, dimpled smile as he resumed his conversation with Ryan.
When Indie turned back to Grace, she was met with the soft click of her camera.
“What—?”
“He looks so content. I couldn’t not take a photo,” Grace shrugged, nodding towards Bodhi. He was fast asleep resting against his mother’s chest, his face turned toward Grace, little hand clutching the handle of his beloved binky as he sucked it quietly.
It was an adorable sight. And Grace had taken a photo of the sleeping baby boy.
However, Indie didn't need to know that Grace had also snapped a photo of her, gazing back at Laker with Marley, the look of love plain as day on her face.
“No, Little Sweet. It’s a bit late, now.”
“But, Laker! You gotta do it today!”
Laker and Marley’s whispers distracted Indie from Grace and the camera. She twisted to face them again. “What’s going on?”
Sheepishly, Laker hung his head for a second before meeting her gaze. “Marley wants me to give you my gift now.”
“But you already gave me a gift.”
“I have one more. I was going to save it for tomorrow, but Little Sweet here thinks you need it today.” He leaned down, gently knocking his forehead against Marley’s.
She giggled, sitting upright and patting his cheek. “C’mon, don’t you wanna make her smile?”
“Always,” Laker murmured, stiffening slightly when he realised he’d said it aloud. “All right, you win, Little Sweet. Wait here, please,” he said, looking at Indie.
She nodded, her lips curling upwards at Marley’s triumphant cheer. Laker carried Marley toward the house, and Indie watched his back until he disappeared around the corner.
“Okay, does anybody else know what that was all about?” Grace asked, laughing softly. Indie looked around at everybody, seeing the smiles on all of their faces tinged with curiosity.
“I have no idea,” Sarah admitted, holding her hands up in surrender when Andy turned to her. “He told me he was planning something, but he didn’t say what.”
“Hmm,” Heidi hummed, grinning. “I bet it’s a puppy. Marley’s been begging for one ever since she met Bonnie at Mark and Josie’s.”
“Where would he have hidden it?” Pippa countered.
“No, no, I bet it’s a—”
“Hey, are you guys guessing? What’s wrong with you? It’s supposed to be a surprise!” Laker called over his shoulder, huffing as he dragged something around the corner. Laughter rang out when it came into view.
“You bought her a piano?” Archie chuckled. “You know, the charm version is probably all right, considering how musically challenged she is.”
Indie stuck her tongue out at her brother’s teasing, blinking in surprise at the ensuing flash that went off almost directly in her face. “Dad…what the—?”
“What?” Reagan shrugged, stowing his phone. “I’ve missed seeing you two tease each other.”
“Oh,” she mouthed, refocusing on Laker as he stopped the piano a few feet away, lifting Marley down from her perch upon the lid over the keys.
“Well, I know I got you the piano charm,” Laker began, his nervous green eyes darting down toward Indie’s bracelet. She ran the thumb of her other hand over the new charm, smiling. “But Little Sweet helped me with your other gift, and apparently, it’s imperative you get it today.”
“Laker, you didn’t have to—”
“Hush, Mummy. You gotta listen to Laker’s present,” Marley told her firmly, patting her on the head before skipping over to drag a chair to the piano. “Here, Laker. You can sit here, and I’ll sit on your lap.”
“All right,” he laughed. “C’mon then, hop on.”
Indie sighed girlishly as Laker sat, then lifted Marley easily into his lap with just his hands on her waist. Marley settled, raising the key lid and smiling up at her idol as her fingers rested upon the ivories.
“Laker, can I help? Like when we practiced?”
Indie wasn’t the only one swooning when Laker pressed a kiss to Marley’s forehead, resting his hands on the keys on either side of hers so she could place her much smaller hands on top of them.
“All right, is everybody ready?”
Indie smiled, shocked to see more than a hint of apprehension in Laker’s tiny smile.
“Get on with it, then!” Archie called, winking at his sister when she turned to shoot him a glare.
“Okay,” Laker breathed, inhaling one last, long, deep breath before he began to play.
And it was beyond wonderful.
Indie was entranced, from the first note to the last.
Laker sang. Marley did, too, though she joined in intermittently when she could remember the words. Indie forgot all about her family gathered around them. She saw only Laker and Marley, cocooned in their own little bubble. Their hands moved together, effortlessly in sync, and Laker’s rich, warm voice cradled Marley’s soft, sweet cadence.
It was a song she’d never heard before.
He sang of friendship, windows to the soul, angelic curls, and a love lost to life. His voice caressed the words with so much tenderness that she almost couldn’t bear it. Her heart raced—a hand subconsciously lifting to press against her chest to feel its pounding rhythm. She sucked in a deep breath, her brows furrowing inward when Laker’s eyes danced over as he sang about reconnecting, finding things you hadn’t known you were missing, and discovering real love.
When the song finished, there was only silence.
Sarah was the first to break it. She stood, crossing the patio to throw her arms around her nephew’s shoulders and rest her face against his shoulder. “Laker, that was…” She sniffled, pulling back to cup his face. “That was so beautiful, sweetheart.”
His smile in return was bashful, his ears tinting pink. “Thanks, Sarah.”
Indie could only listen in a stunned stupor as, one by one, everybody told Laker how amazing the song had been, how talented he was. Of course, Marley wanted the same recognition and received it in spades once she’d reminded everybody that she’d played, too.
Noticing Indie’s wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression, Grace carefully took Bodhi from her arms and motioned for the others to give her and Laker a moment.
Watching everybody moving around the corner and out of sight, Laker sighed, lifting himself from the chair to join Indie on the duvet.
When he'd originally sat down, planning to teach Marley a few simple tunes, Laker had been struck with the need to write, to compose. His love fo
r music had waned with his distraction in recent months. Before that, even. It had been over a year since he worked on new material. He had the frustrated emails and voicemails from his agents and followers of his music channel to prove it.
However, that day, a week ago exactly, it had been all he could think about.
Laker had stayed up late into the night—tweaking, creating, and pouring all of his pent-up emotions into the keys. He'd eventually been left with this, the song he'd decided to gift to Indie. Having been practicing and messing around with it for a week now, he knew it by memory. The words had imprinted themselves on his heart, their very meaning interwoven with the threads of his being.
It was them. The song was Laker, and it was Indie, and this messy situation that had brought her home so that he could fall for her and discover the true love other artists sang of, that painters painted, and authors wrote about.
The fairy lights overhead caught on a tear rolling over her cheek. Laker reached up, gently wiping it away with the pad of his thumb. He left his hand there, cupping the side of her face with a reverence that stole her breath. She leaned into his touch with an almost inaudible hum—the sweet sound made him smile.
“Happy birthday, bella ragazza,” Laker murmured softly, his voice made husky by the tumultuous mess of emotion swelling within him.
“Laker, that was…I don't even have words. You…you wrote that, didn't you?”
Feeling the tips of his ears flaming, he ducked his head a little, nodding.
“Please don't hide, I…Laker, thank you. That was beyond incredible.”
An unexpected bolt of bravery shot through Laker’s veins.
Sucking in a deep breath, Laker held it and looked at Indie, just taking her in.
The lights above cast a glossy sheen on her chocolate locks, piled atop her head in a messy bun. They lit her beautiful azure eyes from within—their shine and guilelessness was entrancing. Her cheeks held a rosy tint and a small smile played on her lips. Weeks of spending time outdoors had turned her previously, snow-white complexion to a soft, honeyed tan, lending her a healthier look. She'd also filled out a lot since the first time Laker saw her after her abduction, sitting on the floor of that smoke-filled bathroom back in Montana.