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I watch as she walks out the door, then turn on my back and lace my hands behind my head. As I stare at the vaulted ceiling in my room, the texts from Theo come flooding back, souring my mood a little. I try to push the thought away, but the unanswered questions continue to torment me.
When Amber comes downstairs with a fed and happy Nella, I stride toward her, holding my arms out to take the baby. “I’ll hold her. You go get ready.”
She quirks a brow but hands Nella over. Nella grins the moment she’s in my arms. “She likes me.”
Amber laughs. “I think she likes you better than me. She’s such a traitor.”
I move Nella to one arm and use my free hand to gently push Amber toward the stairs again. “That’s not possible. Now go. Get ready.”
She tries, and fails, to dig her heels into the tile. “What for? What am I supposed to wear?”
I step back, giving her a satisfied smile. “Wear whatever makes you feel good. I’m taking my girls on a date.”
Amber squeals and rushes toward the steps. Halfway up, she pauses and turns back to look at me. “You know, I like you too, almost as much as Nella does.” She rushes the rest of the way upstairs and leaves me grinning like a fool.
While she’s upstairs, I sit on the sofa, holding Nella on my lap in a sitting position. She babbles and blows bubbles with her mouth. “Nella,” I say seriously. “You and I need to have a chat.”
She coos, then grins.
“You see, I never asked your permission to marry your mom.”
Nella splutters.
“So, I’d like your permission to stay married to her. I’d like your stamp of approval, because as much as I’d like you two to be mine forever, I want my girls to choose me too.”
She grins, and I smile back.
“Good. I’m glad we agree on the matter.” I clear my throat. “Now, how do I look?” I glance down at my dark jeans and white polo. Nella burps loudly and my eyes widen. “Wow. That seems harsh. Is it really that bad?”
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
AMBER
Ford Remington marrying me to save me from extreme medical debt was heroic. And having him kiss me was hypnotic. But having him ask my daughter’s permission to stay married to me forever? That was just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
Standing at the top of the steps to eavesdrop on their conversation was probably a little shady of me, but it was too adorable for me to step away.
I glance in the floor length mirror of Ford’s closet and do a spin. I braided my hair back in a Dutch braid and pulled out a few strands around my face. I threw on some mascara as well, then donned my prettiest sweater—pink with white daises—and a pair of wide-leg boyfriend jeans. Deciding I look pretty cute but probably not as hot as Ford, I waltz back downstairs, excited for this date.
When I’m downstairs, Ford has Nella secured in her infant car seat and is being meticulous with packing the diaper bag. I can practically see the internal script he’s running. Diapers, check. Wipes, check. Bottles, check.
I clear my throat, and he glances up. His eyes widen and trail down my body, a slow perusal. He swallows. “You’re beautiful.”
Feeling suddenly shy, and unused to my best friend complimenting my looks so freely, I offer a quiet, “Thank you.”
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, but can you please drive?”
He rolls his eyes. “Still paranoid you can’t park the truck?”
“I know I can’t park the truck. From real-life experience.”
Ford blows out an annoyed breath. “I got you the truck because it has?—”
“Amazing safety ratings.” I finish his sentence.
