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I let Fiona down and she climbed in next to Caroline, who was leaning over the table and staring at Shayla with wide, curious eyes.
“What’s a princess drink?” she asked.
“Well, it’s pink, of course,” Shayla answered. Then she looked to Val and whispered, “Strawberry milk.”
“Ooh, yum!” Val said. She glanced between the girls.
“I want a princess drink!” Fiona cried.
“Me too! I want one so bad, I’m gonna die!” Caroline shouted.
We all laughed.
Knowing what they wanted already, I bent to give the girls both a kiss on the head before I turned and headed for the kitchen so I could get started on their food.
“Two princess drinks coming up,” Shayla said behind me. “Mom? What would you like?”
“I’ll just have a water.”
“You got it.”
Quick footsteps brought Shayla to me when I’d gotten halfway to the back of the restaurant. She looped her arm through mine and leaned in close.
“Watching you with your girls is now my favorite thing to do, ever. And that includes hair,” she whispered.
Something warm expanded inside my chest.
Shayla being happy for me meant a lot—I knew it would. But it felt bigger today, more important, and I didn’t know if it was because my girls were involved or if it had to do with something else.
I just knew I wouldn’t have enjoyed this moment so much if she hadn’t been a part of it.
I wanted her around all the time now. Here and at my house and wherever the fuck I was going, I wanted her with me. I might’ve left to go pick her up to bring her here if she hadn’t been on the schedule today.
Looking down at her, I smiled, and seeing that, Shayla grinned.
Fuck that might’ve. I definitely would’ve left to bring her here.
She gave my arm a squeeze, then headed for the bar to make drinks while I stepped inside the kitchen.
I got to work on the mac and cheese and grilled up some burgers to go with it when Val and the girls finished looking at the menu. Then, because we were slow, I got to step out and watch my girls eat.
I missed doing that.
They enjoyed the food. I enjoyed them being here.
And Shayla stood back and enjoyed watching it all happen.The next day, I opened at Whitecaps, getting off around four and then dealing with bullshit the second I got home.
“Sorry, Sean. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m strapped. It is what it is.”
Standing in my driveway, arms pulled across my chest and mood in the fucking toilet, I shook my head and stared down Logan, a guy I’ve known for a long fucking time and who I’d never once wanted to beat the shit out of until this very moment.
Pretty sure it would be a good matchup too. He was my size, my height. Had a good fifteen years on me, but still.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I asked him. “Where am I supposed to keep my trailer? I can’t afford to store that shit somewhere. You got any idea how much that’ll cost me?”
Too fucking much. I’d already priced it.
Logan glanced from me to the house then back to me. “Uh, how ’bout you sell it? Since you don’t need it anymore.” He gestured at the house. “What the fuck are you keeping a trailer for when you got a house?”
Jaw tight, I shook my head. “I ain’t sellin’ it,” I growled.
I couldn’t. I needed that trailer.
“You know I wouldn’t do this unless I had to,” he said.
I knew that. Logan was always good to me. If he didn’t have reason to do this, he wouldn’t.
I was just having a hard time understanding that reason right now.
“Fuck.” I dragged both hands down my face. “Fuck!”
“I’m sorry, Sean. I really don’t wanna fucking do this.”
Shayla’s car pulled up in front of the house. I turned my head and met her eyes through the window, then watched her glare at Logan before quickly reaching into her back seat for something. The driver’s side door was flung open seconds later. Shayla stepped out with a can of hair spray tight in her grip and marched up the driveway, leaving the door open and the car running.
“What the fuck?” Logan asked.
Shayla’s glare intensified the closer she got.
“What are you doin’?” I asked her.
She looked pissed. That I didn’t get.
But it was the hair spray that was really throwing me. She was holding that thing like a giant can of pepper spray.
“I’m not doing anything…” Shayla replied. “Yet.” She stopped a foot away and kept her gaze trained on Logan. She had one hand on her hip while the other held the can at her side, her trigger finger ready on the nozzle.
“What’s your problem?” Logan asked.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” she countered. “What’s going on right now?”
