KPop Demon Huntersis blaring even louder than it was before I stole Hannah away, and as we walk into the cinema room, I’m stopped in the doorway, grinning at the sight of Lucky dancing on the sofa, where she knows she’s not supposed to be, Toast Malone sitting on the floor looking up at her like he’s her protector, ready to catch her if she falls.
“Lucky Duck,” I say after a few moments.
Lucky startles, turning while sitting her butt down at the same time, a sweet smile on her face like she wasn’t just dancing on the couch cushion.
“Hi, Daddy,” she says, saccharinely sweet.
I look back at Hannah and take her hand in mine, offering her a reassuring smile when her eyes widen at the unexpected contact.
“Hey, baby girl, Hannah and I have something to tell you,” I say, walking around the sofa with Hannah.
“What is it, Daddy?” Lucky asks, her gaze dipping to where my hand is wrapped around Hannah’s, and the unexpected sound that comes out of my daughter right at that moment—something mixed between a crawdad and a banshee—nearlypops my damn ear drums and makes Toast Malone let out a howl.
Jumping up from the couch, Lucky crashes into us like a little hurricane, wrapping her arms around us both. “Is Hannah your girlfriend?” She bounces up and down excitedly.
Fuck. The wordgirlfriendalmost knocks me off center, but yeah. Hannah’s my girlfriend.
“Yeah, baby,” I say, crouching down to Lucky’s height. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yes!” Lucky squeals again.
Hannah crouches down and wraps Lucky in a hug. “Thank you, Lucky.”
Our moment is suddenly interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice coming from downstairs. A voice that sends a shiver raging down my spine because you have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Where’s my Lucky girl!” a smoky, rasped voice bellows up the stairs.
Hannah glances at me curiously.
I close my eyes on a resigned sigh.
“Grampa!” Lucky squeals, turning and nearly knocking me over as she bolts out of the room with Toast Malone galloping closely behind her.
“Grandpa?” Hannah gawks at me, blinking like she’s hoping this is some sort of mistake.
“Uh… yeah, so I guess you’re about to meet my dad—” I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly, quietly panicked more than I should be for no other reason than my dad is fucking embarrassing at the best of times.
“Happy!” Hannah hisses. “I can’t meet your dad right now. Look at me!” She throws her hands up in the air.
Of course, I do look at her because she’s my favorite thing to look at it. And dressed in my sweats and her little crop top, her hair a mess, cheeks flushed with that telling post-coital glow, she looks better than perfect.
“You look beautiful,” I assure her, closing the distance between us and grabbing both her hands. Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, I link my fingers through hers.
“But he’s Jonny Slater.” Her eyes bulge.
I quirk a brow. “You’re not a secret Jonny Slater fangirl, are you?”
She deadpans. “No. But he’s your dad.”
“Yeah, and he’s the last person who should be judging anyone, trust me,” I scoff. “You’re fine. I promise.” With a reassuring smile, I lead her out of the room.
“Now, whose beast is this?” my dad’s voice booms with a chuckle, and I just know Toast Malone has probably cornered him like the first time he met me.
“That’s Toast Malone.” Lucky giggles. “Hannah’s doggy!”
“Hannah?” Dad asks curiously.
“Oh my God,” Hannah groans softly, cowering closer to me.
