“We got it, Zep.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Misty
Zep shows up with a bottle of wine in one hand and sparkling grape juice in the other. I haven’t told Bernie he’s here for dinner yet. Part of me couldn’t help but worry he’d back out, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
Or me.
“Zep!” Bernie calls, scrambling to her feet from the couch and running to hug his legs. “My hair still looks so cool.”
She does a small twirl in front of him, and he winks at her. “The coolest. Better than Sierra’s hair, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah! Are you here for dinner?”
He frowns and looks up at me. “I thought so.”
“Sorry, baby, I thought I mentioned it,” I lie. A lie I can tell he sees right through.
“You can sit next to me!” Bernie says, pulling him into the kitchen.
At least I have three place settings, so he can’t get too upset with me, right? “What do you have there?” I ask.
“Beverages. Adult and Bernie versions. Thought this was a celebration, but—”
“Celebration? For what?” Bernie asks. “Is it your birthday? Did we forget? Hang on, and I’ll make you a card.”
Zep swoops Bernie into his arms when she tries to run past him. “It’s not my birthday, kiddo.”
Her body physically relaxes, and then she bursts into giggles as he swings her around like she weighs nothing. “Then what are we celebrating? Stop! Stop, that tickles!”
Leaning on the counter, I just watch and take it all in. I still can’t figure out how her father can voluntarily miss this. Zep treats her more like a daughter than her father ever has, and I just want to cry.
Instead, I smile and walk over to them. “Bernie, there’s something Zep and I need to tell you,” I say, moving over to him as he sets her down and wraps my arm around his waist.
Why is my heart racing like this? I might vomit, and I hate that I have this reaction. It’s pure fear even though I’m pretty sure Zep won’t walk away from us.
But I’m not one hundred percent positive.
“Are you getting married?” Bernie asks, her eyes wide with her eyebrows standing above her glasses like two little caterpillars.
“No,” I say, just a little too fast. “We’re dating. Zep’s my boyfriend.”
“Do you want us to get married?” Zep asks.
How the hell is he so cool about this right now? Oh, right. This isn’t his kid. He doesn’t have to deal with the fallout when someone she gets attached to breaks her heart while mending his own.
“Yes!”
“Maybe one day,” he says. “It’s still a little early. Your mama’s about to hyperventilate, so we should maybe sit down. I can bring the food to the table.”
“No, I’m okay—”
“Sit,” he orders.
God, his dominance is hot. Which has me a bit conflicted because I don’t like being told what to do. Except by him.
“Yes, sir.”
