She holds a bag out toward me as she cradles Monty in her other arm.
“That’s thoughtful of you, Sweetheart,” I say, taking it from her.
She places Monty down onto the floor and he runs straight to Hallie, his tail wagging.
“Hi Boy,” Hallie coos, bending to fuss him.
“There are some bridal magazines in that bag, too. I thought we could have a look?” Sinclair’s eyes light up.
Hallie smiles at her. “Sure, that would be amazing. Come on through, we just ate, but did you want some breakfast?”
“No, thanks.” Sinclair waves a hand. “I won’t stay long. Just an hour.”
I catch Hallie’s gaze as my daughter heads off into the apartment, Monty trailing behind her.
“You can’t wait an hour to continue what we started?” She arches a brow.
“Of course I can. Doesn’t mean I want to, though.”
She giggles and I follow her into the kitchen. I head straight for the coffee machine, fixing one for Sinclair as the two women sit side-by-side at the counter and start talking about flowers. I can’t help the smile on my face as I listen to them. For a long time I prayed to hear excitement in my daughter’s voice again. And finally it’s back.
Put there by Hallie.
“I wonder how big your bump will be on the day?” Sinclair assesses Hallie’s flat stomach beneath her sweater.
“I don’t know. I guess it’ll show. It’s going to be a few months until we get married.”
“True,” Sinclair hums. “Thanks, Dad,” she says as I slide her coffee mug toward her.
The bell at the door goes again.
“Jesus Christ, we’re popular this morning,” I say, heading off to answer it, the women’s happy chatter echoing behind me.
At this rate, Hallie and I won’t get any time alone before her parents’ flight arrives. And I really wanted to see if I could make her scream my name louder than she did last night. That was quite something.
I stiffen at the sight of Sullivan, Mal, and Denver standing fully suited with matching sour faces on the other side of the door.
“What’s happened now?”
“Let’s talk inside,” Sullivan clips, striding past me.
“You look good,” Mal says, clasping me on the shoulder as he slides past.
“Boss,” Denver greets, following the men inside.
I walk after them, into the kitchen. They all choose different areas to stand in rather than taking any of the numerous seats at the counter, or on the giant couch.
“You look much better. You must have had a good sleep last night,” Mal says to Hallie.
“Thank you. I feel much better.” She blushes, her eyes darting to Sullivan who’s picked up Sinclair’s coffee and is drinking it.
“I need it more than you, Sis, believe me,” he grunts.
Sinclair studies the three of them, her lips pursed. “We were talking weddings before you all interrupted. What are you all doing here with faces like that?”
“We need to talk to your father about business,” Denver says.
Sinclair rolls her eyes. “Ugh. And it couldn’t wait? He’s supposed to be recovering.”
