“Awesome,” Christian muttered bitterly. Blowing out a breath, he faced Hallie. “I’m sorry. My daughter is … she’s having a hard time right now. Are you hurt?”
“No. Of course not.” She held out the box again. “You seem like you could use this.”
He pushed out a desperate laugh as he took the offering. “Thanks.” He stole a glance toward the house, then back at her. “Uh…”
“Really, I’m fine. Go.” Hallie shooed him away with both hands.
Christian didn’t need more encouragement than that. He nodded briefly at her before stalking back toward the house. Once inside, he set the box on the coffee table before carrying Penelope upstairs to her room. She didn’t object when he set her on the pink shag rug with some toys.
Leaving her door open, he returned to the hall, approaching Isla’s open door. He stopped for a moment to figure out how to addresswhat had happened outside. She was so smart for her age, but she was still a child, and he needed to approach this delicately.
Isla’s bedroom resembled what Christian would expect from a princess’s Halloween party. A mural of a giant black witch’s hat, complete with gold ribbon circling the inside of the brim, took up most of one wall above the purple wainscoting. A collage of ballerinas in tutus decorated for the holiday adorned another, while a pink silhouette of a castle hung on a third. Christian couldn’t take credit for the creativity of the space. Both girls’ rooms were the products of Mom’s and Dani’s imaginations.
Isla sat cross-legged on top of the purple-and-pink puffy bedspread, partly shadowed by the open teepee canopy draping across the bed from the ceiling. Arms wrapped tightly around their dog, her shoulders shook.
Pushing out a centering breath, he knocked softly on the purple doorframe. “Can I come in?”
She nodded but buried her face deeper in Pumpkin’s fur.
Christian approached the bed, tossing aside a pink stuffed jack-o-lantern—one of many pumpkins decorating the room. He sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Will you explain to me what happened out there?”
He held his breath, waiting for her explanation.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Finally, his daughter sniffed. “Why am I so different?”
He hadn’t expected that answer. “What do you mean?”
Isla removed her face from Pumpkin’s fur but still refused to look at him. “Sammy Pritchard told everyone in class not to be friends with me because I don’t have a daddyanda mommy. Everyone knows a family is supposed to have a daddy and a mommy.”
Christian sighed. Not Sammy Pritchard. For some reason, Isla’s former best friend had developed a personal vendetta against her.I guess I’ll be having a conversation with her mother.Again. The thought made him want to scream. Talking to the neighborhood gossip was never a pleasant experience for any normal person.
Not that he came close to normal. Most twenty-seven-year-olds—particularly those working in his office—were enjoying their single lives, partying at a new club every weekend or spending their vacation time in exotic places with friends. They weren’t doing a lousy job of raising two kids on their own, that was for sure.
He dropped a hand onto his daughter’s knee. “Isla, look at me.”
She raised her head. Tears hung on her long lashes, twisting the proverbial dagger right through his heart.
“How many times have I told you not to listen to Sammy?” he asked gently. “She’s wrong. Families come in all shapes and sizes. I guarantee some of the kids in your class come from families that look a little different.”
Isla didn’t respond.
“Heck, Marcus Taylor doesn’t live with a momora dad. He lives with his aunt.” The Taylors lived on the next street over. Both of Marcus’s parents had died in a car accident while he was still a toddler. “But you know what?”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter what a family looks like. What matters is that the people in it love and take care of each other.”
Isla moved another jack-o-lantern plush—purple this time—from her side and scooted toward Pumpkin, an unspoken invitation for Christian to slide into the vacated spot.
Accepting it, he tucked his little girl close to him. “And you have something Sammy Pritchard doesn’t have.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. You have a pretty awesome sister, for one thing.” As if on cue, a crash of toys came from the next room, followed by Penelope’s squeal. “And a grandma who lives nearby.”
