To the Omega that’s officially stolen my heart.
“I brought lemon poppyseed pound cake slices,” Lia says. “How’s that sound?”
“Mmm,” my daughter hums as I venture into the kitchen, “that’ll go good with the ice cream we have in the freezer.”
“She’s not wrong there.” I open the cabinet where I keep the plates and bowls.
“Lia,” Walker says, stirring what looks like some sort of sauce in a small pan, “come taste this real quick. I’ve tasted it so much that I’m not sure what’s missing.”
Lia’s at his side in a moment, and I swear the air in the kitchen shifts. I hand the dishes off to Knox before opening the silverware drawer, but I can’t help the way my gaze gravitates to Lia when her lips wrap around the sauce spoon. Heat draws up my thighs, and I have to look away. But the hum she lets out tells me everything I need to know.
It’s a sound that shoots straight to my groin.
“Walker,” she says, her voice a sort of half-moan, like she’s trying to torture me, “that’s incredible. I don’t think it needs anything.”
“You sure?” He places the spoon in the sink. “Eli, can I get another spoon?”
“Sure thing.” I hand one to him.
He dips up the sauce and gives it another taste. “You don’t think it’s a little too heavy on the peppercorn?”
“Is that what that is?” Lia asks. “It’s got a nice spice to it. Are we putting that over the ‘turf’ part of this surf ’n turf.”
“We are,” Walker says as he tosses that spoon into the sink as well. “If you think it’s done, then it’s done.”
Lia smiles as she looks down at the sauce. “It’s definitely done. You did a great job with it.”
Walker doesn’t smile or preen at her words. He doesn’t pick her up and swing her around. I watch him while he watches her, somehow arrested by a moment that isn’t even mine to share.
I watch him lift his hand and hook a finger gently beneath her chin.
“You’re not doing this alone anymore,” Walker says, “understand?”
The room goes still all around us. Outside of the sounds of Amber cooing at Pickles on the couch, everything ceases. Lia stares up at Knox with that innocent little stare of hers, and I look at Knox only to find him staring at them as well.
I feel my heartbeat in my throat. Lia’s scent blooms through the kitchen, filling the space with the wondrous scent of cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven.
“I hear you,” she whispers.
“Good,” Walker says as he takes his finger from beneath her chin and boops her nose. “Now, let’s get you a glass of wine.”
“On it,” Knox says as he slips behind me.
I’m still shocked at the scene that just unfolded, though. She didn’t argue. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a joke, or even outright reject him. She… accepted his words.
As if they’re finally truth to her.
And for the first time since I smelled her in Dr. Quinn’s office almost three weeks ago, I finally allow myself to wonder if this could really happen.
Could the four of us actually build something real?
Something safe?
I look over and find my daughter no longer paying attention to Pickles. She’s watching the scene in the kitchen with wide, curious eyes, her hand aimlessly petting down the dog’s back. In a flash, a series of still-life images hit me.
Knox, curled up on the couch with Amber and Lia while they watch a movie. Walker, cooking dinner for all of us so that I can finish my grading. A house big enough for the four of us to live in. Amber, always having a chaperone on a field trip or for a future school dance.
I’ve only ever had that montage hit me one other time in my life.
