He nodded. “You can see the papers again,” Trent offered. “Anytime you want.”
“I don’t need to see the papers, Daddy. Papers don’t make us family.” She laid her hand over her chest. “Our hearts do.”
Someone sniffled somewhere in the room. I didn’t bother looking. I couldn’t. My entire being was riveted on my husband’s face when my daughter repeated the words he always said back to him.
And though he didn’t move an inch, he crumbled.
A storm of emotion rewrote his expression. His eyes were stripped bare and openly raw. The guard he was always armored with fell, giving an unprecedented look at the softness shielded behind his heart. A place I’d only seen myself a handful of times, a place so delicate it was basically an open wound that would never heal.
His lower lip trembled just slightly, and then he cleared his throat. “Come here,” he rasped, reaching for her.
She went right to him, folding her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his torso when he stood. She looked like a little koala clinging to a massive tree.
I rubbed my chest, the ache there so intense I could barely breathe.
The room was thick. Everyone was still, the intensity of T’s emotion overriding everything else.
He walked toward the fireplace, big hand rubbing up and down her back. “I love you so goddamn much,” he said, voice thick. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
“I don’t need a mom anyway. You and Daddy are better.”
His footsteps halted, and he swayed on his feet. He dropped his face to her tiny shoulder, and I watched his shoulders rise and fall.
Untangling from the blanket, I stood and went to them. The second my hand slid across his back, his muscles tensed. “Why don’t we make some coffee?” I suggested quietly.
He nodded.
“Can I have some?” Andi asked.
“Yes,” Trent replied instantly. She could ask him for a pony right now and he’d go out and get three.
“I think it’s a little late for you to have coffee, peanut. It will keep you awake half the night,” I said, tugging her from his arms.
“Won’t it keep you awake?” she asked.
“No, I’m old.” I lied.
She didn’t need to know I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight anyway.
I turned, and Romeo was right there, blue eyes knowing.
“Here, go sit with Uncle Romeo while we get some coffee.”
“Can I have a cookie?” she asked. “My ice cream fell on the ground.”
T made a noise behind us, and I handed her over to Rome. “I’ll bring you a cookie.”
Romeo tickled her as soon as she was in his arms, and she laughed, the sound too innocent for this world. The second he sat down, Ketchup leaped up on the couch and laid his head in her lap.
“Come on, frat boy,” I murmured, tugging him toward the kitchen.
“Let’s go over safety protocol,” Braeden told the room.
A few kids groaned.
“We know, Dad!” Jax moaned. “You’ve told us a thousand times.”
“It’s time for a reminder,” Romeo said. “Now listen up.”
