Ethan scowled at his little girl. “You asked her?”
He’d wanted everything to be a surprise.
“I’m hungry now.” Annie shrugged in the teenage way he’d become used to. “Figured I’d find out… What’s wrong with that?”
This was okay. He and the girls would eat while Barbie, Lauren, and Cress all tag-teamed to pick up Emmaline at Denver International Airport.
Emmaline thought he had a restaurant thing tonight. That’s what he’d told her so her friends could pick her up and he could get things ready here.
“You know if she flips out, it doesn’t mean anything?” Fiona asked. Not helping his anxiety levels in the slightest. “That’s just Mom.”
“I know.” And yet, his palms began to sweat more and more the closer the time came to her return.
“Should we wait in here or go outside?” Annie asked.
The answer to that was simple. “What would we normally do? We keep things normal.”
“Normally you’d snog her until she turned blue, and then you’d help her”—
Annie made air quotes—“unpack. But you’re at a restaurant thing, so…”
Fiona snorted.
His cheeks burned. Clearly, they had not been very sly in their attempts at alone time after she returned from her trips to visit authors, her publisher, and bookstores all over the country.
“Outside.” He picked up the tray and strode to the backyard.
Much of it was the same—the same playhouse, same Adirondack chairs, same patio. But they hadn’t replaced the tube after they cut it up to remove Emmaline. She figured the girls would be too old for it soon, anyway. Also, no one wanted anyone else to get stuck inside.
The thing was a hazard.
Instead, they converted that area into a family zone with a fire pit for summer s’mores nights.
Emmaline had done that.
She’d asked his opinion, and he’d helped with the install. But back then, this had only been her house.
Back before Ethan and Annie had moved in. Before they’d remodeled together so the girls could have separate bedrooms, even though they were best mates who preferred to camp out in the other’s space.
Before they’d decided—with an abundance of encouragement from the girls—to be a family who lived under one roof, shared one grocery bill, and operated as a unit.
Sketch barked at the front door as it opened.
“Hey,” Emmaline called. “I’m home.”
He got light-headed. Dear God, he was going to stroke out.
Aborting the mission seemed like a good idea. He should do that. Should call it off. Eat a s’more and snog his girl.
Annie flanked him on one side. Fiona, on the other.
“What’re you doing?” he whispered.
“Making it so you don’t lose your nerve,” Fiona muttered. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a plan for her, too.”
Nope. He didn’t like that. These two…they were hell on parents when they worked together.
But he didn’t have a second to say it before Emmaline breezed through the back door. Her traveling clothes were nothing outrageous—just jeans and a T-shirt with one of her characters on the front. A beagle named Sketch.
