Happy nods but says nothing, his hand still covering mine over his thigh, his dark eyes tracking from mine down to my lips and back again.
After a few beats, I stand. Happy stands with me, his hand that had been on mine turning, and we loosely link fingers. Again, we take a few moments just staring at one another, the air between us thick and heavy in the best kind of way.
I turn, and Happy follows, our fingers still entwined as I lead the way back down the spiral stairs to the foyer, his warmth so close behind me. And as I stop at the door, I spin around, and Happy immediately closes the space between us, our chests touching as his other hand envelops mine.
Peering up at him through my lashes, I search his eyes, our hearts beating hard and fast, in perfect sync with one another.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice low and throaty and delicious, but also tentative, with a hint of fragility. Very unlike Happy Slater.
I glimpse his perfect lips and suddenly want nothing more. But I choose to keep the moment light, offering him an indulgent roll of my eyes. “I mean, if you must…”
“Brat,” he says on a low chuckle, his thumb and forefinger gently clamping my chin, steadying me, and when I see the look in his eyes, I feel a breath catch in the back of my throat because I know this is about more—so much more—than just a kiss.
Edging closer, Happy’s lips graze mine in the ghost of a kiss, and an involuntary shudder rolls through me. He pulls back just enough to gauge me, his eyes darkening even more as they flit between mine. And then, as if he can’t wait a second longer, he crashes his lips to mine, claiming me with the sort of kiss that steals every last whisper of breath from my lungs, my knees buckling in a way that I’m forced to grip his shirt to stop myself from falling to the floor in a heap.
And it’s here, in this foyer of this sprawling Upper East Side townhouse, that I realize something; this is so much more than just frenemies with benefits, and strangely, it’s not even half as terrifying as I thought it would be.
CHAPTER 16
HAPPY
After getting Hannah safely into a cab, I walk back inside and close the door, leaning back against it and closing my eyes, taking the moment that I need while still tasting her on my lips.
I never intended on keeping my daughter a secret. Shame is the last thing I feel when it comes to Lucky; she’s the best part of my life. But keeping this secret has been a lot, and the weight I just felt lift off my shoulders after I told Hannah everything just now… it’s like I can finally breathe for the first time in what feels like forever.
When Allie texted me earlier asking me to come home, I knew it was because my baby girl needed me. Lucky is only five, and she’s been through so much in her short life—way more than any five-year-old should ever have to experience. She suffers from C-PTSD, and it causes a whole slew of issues like a night terrors, emotional dysregulation, and unprovoked moments of fear where she feels unsafe. When I walked through the door tonight, finding my Lucky girl trembling in a ball, it just about broke me.
Allie is a med student, and she’s amazing with Lucky, butsometimes my girl just needs me. And for as long as I live, I will be here for my baby every damn time, because I’m all she’s got.
Pushing my hair back from my face, I hurry upstairs, treading lightly as I cross the landing and continue through the door to Lucky’s dimly lit bedroom, smiling at the sight of her perched up in her princess canopy bed, grinning at me and hugging tonight’s book of choice to her chest.
Lucky is a girly-girl through and through, all pink and frills, princesses and fairy tales. And I’m so thankful that my mom is around because I know nothing about any of this shit; Mom and Allie are the only women in Lucky’s life, and I depend on them for a lot.
“Hey, Lucky Duck,” I whisper, padding into her room.
“Hi, Daddy!”
“What are we reading tonight?” I get comfortable on the bed next to her, and she nestles in close, handing me her book. “I Love You to the Moon and Back.” I read the title aloud. “Where’d this one come from?”
“Grandma.” Lucky sighs contentedly, resting her head against my arm.
Of course. I grin, opening the book and flipping to the first page, but before I can even begin the story, Lucky speaks.
“Who was that girl?”
I look down at her and she lifts her chin, big brown eyes meeting mine, and to say I’m taken aback is an understatement.
I clear my throat. “Hannah?”
Lucky nods. “Hannah,” she sounds out her name.
“She’s… Daddy’s friend.”
“Oh,” is all she says in response.
“You know how Daddy plays hockey?”
Lucky nods again.
