She looks skeptical, but she nods once before getting into her truck without another word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Amelia
I’m so on edge as I open my front door to Bryson that I feel like I’ve stuck my finger in an electrical socket. After being surprised by my mother and Harper after very intense, amazing sex with Deacon, his far too easy acceptance of every one of my demands, and Bryson asking to come over for dessert tonight, my whole world feels like it’s spiraling out of my control.
“Hi,” I say. Bryson’s still in his suit from work, and he’s carrying a bag that looks like it might hold pie. I could really use a big slab of pie. “It’s time, Bry. We need to tell her.”
His eyes pop wide. “Are you sure?”
God, no. Of course, I’m not sure. I was up most of the night debating my options. But Harper likes Bryson. And it’s clear he adores her.
Maybe it’s too soon, but it feels weird to wait.
Harper deserves to know her father, and I don’t want her to have a memory of learning that the man she thought was a family friend for weeks or months turned out to be her father in hiding or something.
If she’s going to have any memories at all of this, I want them to be good ones.
“You leave again,” I say. “I’ll hunt you down this time, Bryson. If we tell her, you’re committing to being a part of her life, even if you don’t stay in Catalpa Creek for some reason.”
His eyes go misty. “Thank you, Amelia.”
His reaction and the fact that he didn’t once push for this make me feel that I’m making the right decision.
I wrap my arms around him for a long hug. “Be a good dad to her.”
He pulls out of the hug and looks into my eyes. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to be the father she deserves.”
“Just be here for her,” I say, my own eyes stinging. This whole thing is far more emotional than I like. “Come on in.”
Mom stayed for dinner after her afternoon with Harper, and there’s no way she’s leaving now that Bryson’s here. But she has promised to be on her best behavior.
Harper hops off the stool she was standing on to ‘help’ her grandmother wash up from dinner and runs over to us. “Hi, Brys,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Dinner’s over.”
“That’s okay,” Bryson says, crouching to her level. “I already had dinner.”
“What did you eat? I ate sketti.”
“I had spaghetti too,” Bryson says. “I ate at a restaurant.”
“Honey,” I say. “Can we go sit on the couch? Bryson and I want to tell you something important.”
“Are we getting another cat?” Harper asks as she toddles to the living room. “Marmalade needs a friend.”
“No, we aren’t getting another cat.” Not yet. But she’s probably right about Marmalade needing a friend. He’s been making messes again, but only when Harper and I are gone all day.
We settle on the couch, and Harper climbs onto my lap. “Harper, honey.” I’ve been planning out this moment for hours, and I can’t figure out a better way to tell her than to just blurt it out. “Bryson is your father.”
She twists to look at me, her eyes wide. “Are you gonna marry him?”
“No, honey. Bryson and I used to be married. He’s your dad. He had to go away for a long time, but he’s back now, and he’dlike to be your dad and spend time with you if you’re okay with that.”
“Or I can just be your friend,” Bryson says, looking more worried than I feel. “Whatever you want.”
Harper faces him, considering him very seriously. “Are you going to live in Momma’s room?”
“No, I’m going to live in a different house,” Bryson says.
