“Thank you for not making this worse,” I mutter under my breath through clenched teeth.
Elodie doesn’t seem fazed, though. “Oh, trust me, I understand parents wanting what’s best. But as Henley said, this is just temporary.” Smiling, she peers up at me. “I’ll see you when you get home?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Leaning forward, I kiss Remy on the cheek. “Be good, little one.”
Elodie picks Remy’s hand up and waves to us before leaving the lodge, my eyes trailing her the entire time.
Carol’s snort breaks through my perusal. “You might think I’m off my rocker, but I’m not blind, Henley.”
Nick shrugs behind her. “The way your eyes were locked on her ass as she walked away doesn’t do much to support your argument.”
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I haven’t even been a father for a week yet, okay? Can you please just give me time to adjust to that before trying to marry me off? Jesus, is this what it’s like to have overbearing parents?”
Carol swats my arm. “Watch who you’re calling overbearing.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “Seeing you always reminds me where Dilynne gets her sass from.”
“Damn right. The last thing I want is for any of my kids to roll over and just take what life throws at them. You’re a fighter, Henley, just like your sister.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not feeling very victorious right now.”
No. The past few days feel like all of my questionable decisions over the years are coming back to haunt me.
Living for today, never settling down with one person, having the freedom to come and go as I please—I never realized how much I took those things for granted until Meghan dropped a baby bomb on me.
But that doesn’t mean that I need someone else in my life, a woman to complete my little family.
Families disappoint you. Parents turn out to be selfish.
Remy already got the short end of the stick with me as her father, and a mother that left her behind without a second thought. The last thing I want to do is bring in another person who might end up disappointing her too.
***
The smell of garlic and herbs hits me when I walk through my front door, finally home after a long day at work. The field trip today went well, except for the group of fifth graders who thought it would be funny to fill condoms with water and throw them at each other on the obstacle course. Not even sure where they got condoms from, but honestly, it was hilarious.
Remy sees me first, letting out a coo that pulls Elodie’s attention from the stove where she’s stirring something. “Hey, you made it.”
“Yeah. Long day.”
“Well, dinner’s almost ready, so wash up.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Elodie rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile. “Well, they say the older you get, the more you turn into your parents, right?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Comments like those always sting because I didn’t have stellar parents as examples and by the time Carol and Nick took us in, I was a thirteen-year-old kid, jaded by the cards life had dealt me. Even though I respected them and appreciated everything they did for me and Dilynne, I fought like hell not to let them close enough to hurt me.
Elodie keeps talking as I wash my hands at the kitchen sink. “This recipe is one that my mom makes, one-pan chicken and rice. It’s just a few simple ingredients, but it packs a punch of flavor.”
“It certainly smells good, but you don’t have to cook, Elodie. I’ve managed to feed myself over the years just fine.”
Shrugging, she begins dishing out the food onto two plates and sprinkling something green on the top of it, along with freshly grated cheese.
Is this woman the baby-whispererandthe long lost child of Gordon Ramsay?
After drying my hands, I walk over to my daughter and lift her from the high chair, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “How was your day, little one?”
Elodie places the plates down on the table that’s perfectly set with placemats, silverware, and napkins—little things that make this place feel more like a home.
