I inwardly cringe. While I might be ready to admit to myself Peony is my daughter, I’m not ready to admit it to anyone who isn’t part of my inner circle until I have the paternity test results.
And even then, it’s no one’s business.
But it might be tricky to avoid the truth coming out if they come to talk to me. The two men are fans of my books. And because they are fans, I can’t be rude and brush off their questions or lie to them, only for the lie to later slap me in the face.
Christ, please don’t come over.
Athena takes Peony to the toddler swing, and I walk to where my parents are sitting. Mom is practically vibrating as I draw closer, her gaze darting between me and Peony.
Dad has on his skeptical face. He’s missing the facts he needs to draw a valid conclusion, and it’s not sitting right with him. But skepticism isn’t the only emotion in the tilt of his head, the purse of his lips, the lift of his brow. A slim ray of hope shines through the small cracks in his expression.
His eyes remain on me, as if commanding himself not to look at the little girl who could be his granddaughter. As if afraid of falling in love with her before we have the lab results—in case he ends up with a broken heart.
“Hi, Mom. Dad. Sorry we’re late.” I hug Mom.
“You’re not late, son.” Dad gives me a one-armed hug. “Your mom was getting a little impatient waiting at home.”
A nervous chuckle escapes me. “How long have you been here?”
Mom flicks the air with her hand, waving off the question. “Just a few minutes.”
Dad huffs out an eye roll of a laugh. “More like twenty.”
She scoffs and tosses him a cross glance. “Don’t exaggerate.” Her attention shifts to Peony, and she misses his expression that almost has me snickering. It’s hisReally?expression. His I’m-not-wrong face. “So that’s her? Peony? My granddaughter?”
“Your potential granddaughter,” Dad mutters. His comment lands him an elbow in the stomach.
I ignore their amusing bickering. I’m used to it. “Yes, that’s her.”
Mom starts to walk toward the swings. I hook my hand on her arm, keeping her from advancing more than three steps. “Maybe wait a minute.” My voice is kept low so as not to reach curious ears.
Mom pats my hand like I’m a little kid who needs placating. “I’m just going to say hi to her and her nanny and see how things go. Her nanny is very pretty, by the way. And I’m guessing single?” Mom’s eyes gleam with matchmaking mischief, and I barely keep in a groan.
“Don’t even go there.” The pitch of my growled voice is so low, it almost scrapes the artificial grass covering the playground surface.
“Well, you are single, Garrett. And now you’re a single father. Not to mention a great catch.”
I huff out a grunt. “I’m not a trout.”
Mom snickers. “No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to fall in love. I can’t remember the last time you were in love…after you and Kenda broke up.” Pain flashes on Mom’s face, the reality of Kenda’s death no doubt sitting heavily on her too.
She pats my hand again and makes her way to the swings.
I don’t try to stop her this time. I just brace myself for the next part of her plan…whatever that might be.
Athena is gently pushing Peony on the toddler swing and talking to her. She doesn’t seem to notice my mother heading their way. Her attention is solely focused on Peony, who is hugging Poppy and grinning at Athena.
Sighing at how everything could go south in the next few minutes, I walk over to join them. I reach them in time to hear Mom introduce herself to Athena.
I’m not sure what I expected Athena’s reaction to be, especially when she was leery about my parents meeting Peony. What I hadn’t expected was her warm, welcoming smile directed at my mother.
What the hell did Mom say to her?
The two women shake hands, the smile never leaving Athena’s face.
Athena stops the swing’s motion. “Peony, this is your grandmother.” She points to my mother.
Mom looks at Peony and makes a funny, strangled sound. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Oh.” The word releases on a muffled sob. “You have his eyes.” She turns to me. Her eyes glisten in the setting angle of the sun. “She has your eyes.”
