I take a drink and pray the dim light hides the secret written all over my face. That I’ve already found a love like that.
The next night, Bill and I drive to Minneapolis to stay with Dahlia. She left Windy Harbor this afternoon. I talked to her most of the way home because I was afraid she’d be too tired from us staying up all night.
What a night. My heart races just thinking about it. There has never been a sexier woman than Dahlia Granger.
I pull into the driveway and have barely gotten out of the car when the door swings open. Chloe is there—wide-eyed, her dark brown curls going everywhere, wearing her favorite glittery unicorn pajamas. She flings herself at my legs.
“Dyyan!” she squeals.
God, I love this kid. I wasn’t prepared for the way she just…lights up when she sees me. It cracks something open in my chest every time.
“Hey, Bug.” I scoop her up. “You’re still awake?”
“Nope,” she says confidently, laying her head on my shoulder. “I sleepin’.”
I laugh. “Right. This is you asleep?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Her eyes are wide open. She’s vibrating with energy. Dahlia walks up behind her, leaning on the doorframe, wearing leggings and one of my sweatshirts. She raises an eyebrow.
“She heard you were coming and went bonkers.”
“I not bonkas,” Chloe protests, offended.
I kiss her cheek. “The best kind of bonkers.”
Dahlia smiles, soft and so sweet. “How ’bout Dylan reads your bedtime story? Think you can settle down for that?”
“Bedtime story,” Chloe announces, tapping my shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, toeing my shoes off.
Dahlia mouthsSorrybehind her.
I shrug. “I live to serve.”
We settle into the rocking chair that is absolutely not designed for men my size, but I wedge myself into it anyway. Bill stares at us likeWhere am I supposed to go?before hopping onto my lap and turning round and round until he’s satisfied and lies down. Chloe loves that and burrows under my arm like a baby koala while Dahlia hands me a book calledThe Princess and the Meerkat.
“Ah,” I say. “A classic.”
Chloe gasps. “I yove this one.”
I clear my throat dramatically. “Well, well, well,” I croak in a raspy southern drawl, “who dares enter the prairie domain of the one, the only?—”
“Meerkat!” Chloe yells, bouncing in place.
I go through the whole book, doing the narrator in my movie-trailer voice, the princess like a Valley girl, the king like he’s a mob lord, and the meerkat like he’s smoked three packs a day since the beginning of time.
Chloe laughs so hard she hiccups.
I love being a complete idiot just to make this tiny human laugh.
By the time the story ends, she’s drooping against me, her fingers tangled in my shirt.
“Again,” she mumbles.
“One more time,” I say, and start at the beginning.
