As I stared at her ass as she flipped pancakes, I decided that had it not been for my daughter, we’d have started that morning with coffee, pancakes, and her bent her over the counter as I took her from behind.
But we always had later that night.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
And the night after…
“One hundred and two,” Willow answered.
“Ten plus one thousand.”
Her face was warm as she turned, a spatula poised in her hand. “One thousand and ten.”
“Whoa,” Rosalee breathed. “You’re good.”
It was hard not to chuckle when Willow curtsied and then picked up a piece of bread that I was positive was avocado toast. And that was based on little more than the disgust on Rosalee’s face as Willow took a bite out of it.
Reclining back, I rested my elbow on the step above me and just watched the beauty of it all.
Willow wasn’t her mother, but that was what a family looked like. A happy family. A healthy family. The forever kind of family.
I’d never considered that I’d have something like that, much less be able to give it to Rosalee. Dating as a single dad was a nightmare. Between work and trying to be both a mother and a father for my daughter, I didn’t have a lot of time to build trust or a relationship. The idea of introducing a woman to my daughter who may or may not stick around was terrifying. Rosalee had a huge heart; she would have gotten attached. Basically like she had with Willow.
But strange as our situation might have been, it was quite possibly the only road that would have led me to a point where I was filled to the brim with happiness while watching my woman standing in the kitchen, making pancakes with my daughter.
Willow had lied to me. A lot.
But forgiveness had been a part of our bond from day one.
This would be no different.
“Eighty-seven plus twelve,” Rosalee asked.
Willow replied, but not with an answer. “Caven? You got this one?”
Busted!
Grinning like the damn fool I was, I stood up and ambled their way. “How’d you know I was there?”
She batted her eyelashes and dreamily stared off into the distance while patting her chest. “Because my heart was aflutter.” She shot a wink at Rosalee. “Nah, I’m kidding. I heard you come down.”
“Hey, Daddy!”
I went to my daughter first, kissing the top of her head. “How’d ya sleep, baby?”
“Good. Until a zebra attacked me.”
“What?” I turned her on the stool and tilted her head back to inspect her face.
“Willow said it was just a dream.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up, crazy? I’m the world’s best zebra defender.”
Willow cleared her throat. “She, um, woke me up. When she came into your room this morning. And found me… um, sleeping in your bed. I told her you would explain when you woke up. Her theory is I also had a bad dream and crawled into your bed.” She flashed her eyes wide. “Though there has been some conversation about us getting married because Jacob’s mom and dad sleep in the same bed and have babies, because Jacob says that babies are made when moms and dads sleep in the same bed. Sometimes from kissing but also from wrestling.” She flashed me a pair of wide eyes. “Care to explain?”
“Ohhhh,” I drawled, flicking my gaze back to Rosalee.
I’d known that her walking in was a possibility when I’d unlocked the door after the shower. It wasn’t often she came into my room anymore, but she’d occasionally pop in, such as in the case of when zebras attack. Willow had argued that she should sleep in the guestroom until we became a little more established and felt comfortable telling Rosalee about our relationship. But no fucking way after the last few days, weeks—hell, months—we’d had was I letting her sneak out of my bed. Besides, Rosalee had already been onto us when she’d thought her name was Hadley. She’d been the one to originally ask if I loved her and that was before I actually did love Willow. Or at least before I had admitted it to myself, anyway.
Now though…
There was no use in keeping secrets.
I sucked in a deep breath, looked my daughter right in the eye, and said, “So, I think I’m in love with Willow.”
“Caven,” Willow hissed, but I didn’t tear my eyes off my Rosie Posie.
Her face remained blank. “Is that why she was sleeping in your bed?”
“Yes.”
“So, you got married?”
I laughed. “No. For now, she’s just my girlfriend.”
“Like me and Jacob.”
“No,” I stated firmly. “You are not old enough to have a boyfriend. Much less a love expert like Jacob.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you kiss her?”
“Yep.”
“Caven,” Willow scolded.
“On the mouth?”
Among other places. “Yes.”
She shrugged. “So just like me and Jacob.”
I rolled my eyes. That was a battle for another day, perhaps when I had her boyfriend in a cargo container headed to Antarctica. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just like you and Jacob. Is that okay with you? Me and Willow being together.”
“Are you going to get married?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Eventually, some day.”
“Caven,” Willow breathed, but it was breathy and no longer scolding.
“Will she live here forever?”
“When we get married. Yeah.”
“Can she sleep on my tremble?”
“No.”
She crinkled her nose adorably. “Sometimes? Please.”
I rested my hand on her jaw and grazed my thumb back and forth across her cheek. “Okay, fine. Sometimes she can sleep on your trundle. Will that make it okay for her to be Daddy’s girlfriend?”
“Sure,” she chirped with a white and crooked grin. “Wait, if you get married and Willow has a baby, will it come out of her butt?”
I grinned and swung my gaze to my new girlfriend, who was standing on the other side of the counter, sporting a look that fell somewhere in the middle of adoration, amusement, and horror. I waited for her to answer, but she lifted her hands in surrender and turned back to making pancakes.
Chuckling, I partitioned my mouth off and leaned in close to whisper, “God, I hope not.”
Rosalee mirrored my position and replied, “Me too. That would be so gross.”
“So, so gross.”
She smiled.
I smiled.
Willow continued to shake her head.
But I felt like I was on top of the world.
And just like that, telling my daughter that Willow and I were dating was done. With as much as she loved her, I hadn’t been expecting much push back. Though I probably had Jacob to thank for prepping her for some of that. And for that reason alone, I’d considering mailing him to somewhere in the Caribbean instead of Antarctica.
With my hands under her arms, I lifted her off the stool, stealing a quick hug and kiss before setting her on her feet. “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll help Willow finish cooking.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Maybe?”
She bounced on her toes. “Can I wear a dress?”
I scoffed. “Uh… Absolutely. I insist.”
She giggled and then she was gone, sprinting up the stairs.
“Hold on to the rail!” Willow called after her.
And I’ll be damned if I didn’t fall in love all over again.
“Hey,” I murmured into the back of her hair as I wrapped my arms around her from behind.
She clicked the burner off before turning in my grasp. “I can’t believe that’s how you told her. I had this entire elaborate story, step-by-step what to expect when you find a woman sleeping in your dad’s bed ready to go.”
“Then why’d you wait on me to tell her?”
“Because she’s your daughter.”
/> I grinned and pecked her lips. I loved that she’d waited. I loved that she had always been careful about boundaries and keeping Rosalee’s best interest in mind. Mainly, I just loved her. “Well, I appreciate that. And to show my eternal gratitude, why don’t I take my beautiful ladies out to brunch. Alejandra is coming over to keep her while we meet the police at your house, but after that, there’s this amazing place in the city that has mimosas for you and ice sculptures that Rosalee loves.”
“That’s probably a good idea. She’s not going to eat these. I tried to sneak carrots and oats into the pancakes, but I think she caught me.”
I curled my lip. “Dear God, why would you do that?”
She glared up at me. “It’s healthy. Vegetables are good.”
“Yes. But this is pancakes. They aren’t supposed to be healthy. Literally, it has the word cake in the name.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
The buzz at the gate interrupted her. It was nine a.m. on a Sunday; no one should have been standing at my gate. Even Ian knew better than that. “Go get dressed, I’ll get rid of whoever that is, and we can meet back down here in twenty, yeah?”
“It might be Beth. She probably heard you mention the words brunch and mimosas and teleported herself over here by sheer force of will.”
I chuckled. “She allows me to invest in her discovery of teleportation and she’s more than invited to join us for brunch.”
She giggled and pressed up onto her toes for a kiss, inhaling with the same content reverence I felt at the core of my soul.
The damn buzzer sounded again.
“Go,” I said, giving her ass a gentle smack. “Check on Rosalee too. She’s probably tried on seventy-four dresses by now, leaving them all over her floor. ”
“Only seventy-four?” She laughed.
We walked together, splitting off at the stairs. She went up, and I went to the screen showing the front gate beside my door.
And that was when my smile fell and my stomach soured.
Trent and Jenn were sitting in his SUV at the gate.
I loved my brother, but it was not time for a visit. He lived hours away; it wasn’t like he just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to stop by. The last time he’d shown up, he’d cornered Willow and scared the piss out of her. Granted, he’d had some pretty valid concerns, but that shit was not going to fly again. Which was why, after punching the button to open the gate, I walked outside rather than inviting him in.
Jenn was out of the car first, jogging up the steps. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and glanced over her shoulder as my brother folded out of the vehicle. “I talked to Ian about getting some things together for your birthday and he mentioned that Willow was staying with you. I thought it was a good thing and I…shit…may have mentioned it to Trent. And he may have gotten pissed. And he also may have insisted we drive up here to talk some sense into you.”
I groaned internally. Fucking Trent. The man spent years at a time avoiding anything and everything to do with me and our past. Then I find a woman who makes me happy, knows and accepts every fucking skeleton in my closet, and loves my daughter as her own because in a way she is her own and he suddenly feels the need to drive his ass up to ruin it all?
Fuck. That.
She made an eek face. “Heads-up: He’s really pissed.”
“Well, he’s going to have to really get over it. This is not his life. Not his concern.”
She nodded and then bolted off to the side as Trent made his way up the steps.
“You keep popping up like this, I might start to think you actually miss me,” I said, positioning myself in front of the door. If he was there to be an ass, he wasn’t going to do it inside with my woman and daughter.
He sauntered toward me, pushing his sunglasses up to his head. “I wouldn’t have to keep showing up like this if you were acting like a normal human being, not a pussy-whipped teenager.”
“Shit,” Jenn whispered.
“So, is that a yes? You missed me?”
“Fuck you. What the hell is she doing here?”
“She?” I questioned, just to be a dick.
“Hadley or Willow. Or whatever the fuck you’re calling her now.”
“Just Willow. And, currently, she’s getting dressed so we can meet the police at her house.”
He stopped in front of me and planted his hands on his hips. “Please tell me that’s so you can turn her ass in for fraud.”
“What fraud?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Cav. This is bullshit and you know it. That bitch has been playing you for months, so your solution is to move her into your house and give her unlimited access to your daughter? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
My vision flashed red, and I stepped up until our chests bumped. “You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her. Do you understand me? This is my goddamn house. You don’t get to show up slinging shit you know nothing about.”
“You think I know nothing about this? I’m the one who fucking figured it out.”
Jenn tugged on his arm. “Trent, come on. Stop.”
He roughly shook her off. “Get in the car.”
“Why don’t we both get in the car and come back after you’ve had a chance to cool off,” she argued.
He turned a murderous sneer her way. “Get in the car, Jenn. This is none of your damn business.”
I slid between the two of them. “It’s none of your business, either.”
He stabbed a finger in my chest. “You are my business, Caven. Since the day Dad died. Whether you like it or not. And I’m telling you: This woman is bad fucking news. Her sister was a whack job. What the hell makes you think she’s any different? It was bad enough you didn’t want to press charges. But now you have her sharing your bed? What are you thinking? She’s a goddamn pathological liar.”
“You want to talk about liars, Trent? Let’s go stand in the fucking mirror.”
I don’t know why I said it.
Maybe because it had been a hot coal in my throat, burning and blistering for eighteen years.
Maybe because I’d finally broken the dam by telling Willow about the pictures we’d found but never reported.
Maybe just because I was pissed that he was acting like such a dick without knowing the first thing about her.
But, regardless of the reason, it was the truth.
“Excuse me?” he hissed.
I loomed closer, forcing him down one of the brick steps. “You want to act high and mighty now. You want to pretend she didn’t have her reasons to do what she did. You want to dismiss the fact that she’s a good person who made a stupid choice. But after the mall, you didn’t give the first fuck about lying when it suited your needs.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “That was different.”
“Right. Completely different because, last I checked, Willow didn’t kill anyone. Neither did she cover for a murderer even though it was gradually dissolving her soul like acid every single day for over half her life. And she sure as shit didn’t burn our only proof that Malcom had killed twelve people in the decade before the shooting all while I was still in surgery, fighting to stay alive after taking two bullets from that maniac. And I know you hate talking about this and you think we should just let it lie in the past, but what she did was not even close to the things we’ve done in the name of self-preservation. So, if you want to stand here, on my front porch, and condemn my woman for being a liar, then you’re going to have to acknowledge your own damn sins first.”
“Oh my God,” Jenn breathed. “Malcom killed people before the shooting?”
Trent’s entire body swelled, and his eyes filled with rage. “We’re just airing this shit out now? Doesn’t matter who’s around, huh?”
“She’s your wife. She should know what we did. You should have told her years ago.”
His face flashed downright venomous. “You tell Willow about this?”
I took the step down, forcing him back again. “I sure as hell did. And it was the best fucking decision I’ve ever made. I have been drowning in what that man did for what feels like an eternity. I’ve barely kept my head above water. Each time I try to catch my breath, the guilt slams me down harder. I swear to you, if it weren’t for Rosalee, most days I wouldn’t want to breach the surface again.
“But then came Willow. She doesn’t look at me like a monster. To her, I’m not Malcom’s son. Or the kid responsible for the shooting. I’m just me. Flawed, fucked up, and gasping for oxygen. And she’s okay with that. So you go. Get the hell off my driveway. Go home. Keep your secrets. But don’t you dare come here asking me what the hell is wrong with me. You know what’s wrong with me. And you, of all people, should know that when you find a single sliver of happy you hold on to it.” I paused long enough to catch my breath. “Get used to Willow. She’s not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?”
His jaw ticked as he held my stare. “Oh, I understand, brother. I understand completely. Maybe you deserve her after all.” Reaching out, he grabbed Jenn’s hand and gave her a sharp tug. “Let’s go.”
“Trent, wait,” she urged.
“Let’s. Go,” he rumbled, marching away, dragging her behind him.
She caught my gaze over her shoulder and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I pointed at Trent’s back. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
She rolled her eyes and trotted to keep up with her husband. She gingerly got into the SUV while he stormed around, complete with slamming the door.
This wasn’t our first argument. It wouldn’t be the last, either.
But it would be the last until he could figure out how to accept my family.
A family that now included Willow.
WILLOW
Written With You Page 18