Page 102 of Sweet Distraction

Nothing good ever seems to come from those words.

“What is it?”

“Olivia’s parents—Poppy’s grandparents—have petitioned for custody of Poppy.”

“How is that possible? On what grounds?”

“According to the petition they filed earlier today, they claim that my lifestyle is unsuitable for a toddler. They’re claiming I’m unstable, always on the road, and that it’ll be detrimental to Poppy. That she’ll be raised by a nanny if she’s living with me, whereas they’d raise her if she were with them.”

His words twist my stomach. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how do we fight this? What is it we need to do to put this to rest?”

His grin is loaded with pride. “Whatever it takes.”

Those three words have relief surging through me, but it’s tangled in something messy. A month ago I didn’t even know him, and now I’m emotionally overloaded—I’m now a part of this fight too.

“Whatever it takes,” I whisper back.

“Dadda,” Poppy yells seconds before the narwhal comes flying past our heads.

We don’t even glance at the narwhal because we both look at Poppy and grin at her. She looks at us like she doesn’t understand what the big deal is, and so we leave it as is despite both of us screaming inside. At her second word. At the significance.

And when the moment passes, when she giggles and picks up more of her toys to throw in the pool like she didn’t just rock our world, I steal a glance at Rocket.

He’s staring at her, with love and pride and awe and everything in between etched in the lines of his expression. He looks at me and nods.

“There’s no way I’m losing her, Willow. No way in hell. We’re just getting started.”

It shouldn’t feel like a promise, but it does.

Still, my voice is quieter now when I speak.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Willow

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Rocket says, his voice loaded with sarcasm as he holds out his phone.

I stop walking on the tarmac and level him with a dubious look. “What?”

“See for yourself.”

Before I even look at the screen, I have a feeling I already know I’m not going to like what I see. It’s something I’ve been dreading.

It’s a picture of the three of us—Rocket, Poppy, and me—getting into the car an hour ago to head to our current location, the airport. I’m holding Poppy’s hand, and Rocket has my backpack slung over his shoulder as he helps the two of us into the waiting car. The way our heads are ducked down, we look like something out of a scandalous celebrity exposé.

Funny, especially when I had no idea a camera was anywhere in sight.

The headline above it reads, ROCKET CALDWELL’S SECRET DAUGHTER AND THE NANNY HEAD TO NEXT LEG OF TOUR

I stare at it for a beat, appreciating that the picture is at least flattering while holding back the absolute panic from seeing my face on a celebrity gossip site.

Lily was right. It was bound to happen even with all the precautions taken.

Handing it back, of course, I pretend like I’m unfazed.