But my heart begins launching itself against my ribs like it’s attempting to burst free and go rogue.
Only, it already has.
Because…
The answer is suddenly blindingly obvious.
And terrifying.
If I didn’t love Rhodes, I wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t be having this conversation with his daughter, wouldn’t be missing him so much when he’s away with the team, wouldn’t want to take away his grief, pleasure his body, fill his life with joy and happiness and…
Love.
Because yes, I love the man who wanted me to teach him how to braid his daughter’s hair.
The man who made me homemade soup when I was sick.
The man who calls Olive and Pear demons yet cuddles them so gently.
The man who looks at my blankets like they’re art and means it when he tells me I’m beautiful and kisses me like I’m something precious.
I. Love. Rhodes.
That realization is so huge I feel it in everysingleone of my cells.
And it’s something I absolutely cannottell his daughter in the parking lot of her preschool.
So instead, I unbuckle my seatbelt, climb out, and breathe.
For just a couple of seconds.
Then I open her door, help her jump down, and take her hand. “Let’s go sit and talk for a minute.”
She doesn’t protest as I lead her to a bench in front of the school.
That alone tells me how seriously she’s taking this.
I sit beside her and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans, trying not to look as rattled as I feel. “I like your dad a lot, honey.”
Her face screws up. “But do youlovehim?”
Of course she’s giving me absolutely no mercy.
I let out a shaky little laugh. “That’s a big question.”
She shrugs. “I’mbig.”
Technically…she’s not wrong.
But also…she’s tiny and young and sweet and?—
What if she doesn’twantme to love her dad?
I exhale softly, gird my loins, and hedge, “Love for grownups is different.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why do grownups say stuff like that when they don’t want to answer the question?”
Hell.
