Half of my mouth lifts of its own volition, ’cause she brings that out of me. “I bet.”
Marnie clears her throat and continues prodding. “How dideveryman Landrycatch the focus of a California film production studio?” There’s so much condescension and contempt in her voice, but Quinn sees past it, nodding her head as if this were a casual conversation.
“Good question. It seems unlikely, right? Well, actually, we have a few scouts that read online blogs, newspapers, stuff like that. They have their feelers out, always looking for hometown, feel-good type stories. And one of our scouts is big into sports, and he follows all sports, including rodeo.” She peers back up at me, her smile full of gratitude.ThankGod for this sports scout who likes rodeo.“Anyway, he read that Landry signed up. He knew Landry’s history in the sport, and the rest is history.”
“Assigned,” Marnie repeats. “So you have no say in what you create?”
Somehow, Quinn keeps the smile intact. “It would seem that way, right? But actually, I make the whole film. I have every creative freedom in the world. So if I wanted to debut Landry’s comeback film in the format of a two-hour long music video, I could. I mean, I won’t, but I’m just saying,” she says, her voice feathering down an octave, “I have complete control.”
Marnie wastes no time launching into her next beef. She peers up at the ceiling, blinking as if something is falling down into her eyes. I roll mine. “I noticed the patched roof as we arrived. Does it hold?” She points up with a red fingernail at the perfectly fine ceiling.
“Do you see any holes up there?” My nostrils flare as the words roll off my tongue, but a moment later, Quinn’s gripping my hand so hard I’m about to holler.
She laughs, bridging the gap between Marnie’s condescension and my frustration. “I’m sure a woman like you knows all about the thermal shock that roof shingles can go through in extreme heat here in Texas.” She lifts a shoulder, shaking her head. “Roof repair is on the agenda, not too long after the win. We just need to stay focused on Landry’s training, then the roof and other repairs will follow suit.”
Marnie is quiet, but looks between the two of us as she drums her nails over the face of her watch. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” she answers.
“You realize you’re not Sadie’s mother,” Marnie says.
“That makes two of us, right?” Quinn says back, wearingan unbreakable smile. Beneath the collar of my shirt, my temperature spikes, and I pull at the back of my neck with my free hand. Quinn is just the match for Marnie and handles her better than I ever could. Just looking at the woman makes me clench my ass.
“Oh goodness,” Quinn adds, getting to her feet. “I hear the bus. Perfect timing.” She turns to me, though she releases her hold of my hand, she presses it to my chest, lightly grabbing my T-shirt. “Babe, would you mind bringing the four-wheeler around for Charles and Marnie? That way it’s ready.”
I look at the people I used to be related to. Charles wears a casual smile, and I cannot see that man taking any real part in raising a child. He can’t truly want Sadie in his life every day. It’s cruel, what they’re doing to me, and playing nice feels like an extra punishment. But I know Quinn and Tate are right. I have to go along with it until it’s over. Until we’ve convinced them that Sadie is indeed better off here, with me.
With us.
“Miss Quinn!” Sadie’s voice echoes through the halls, bringing a rush of levity and happiness to my chest. A smile quirks my lips as I edge toward the back door, trying to obey Quinn but wanting to hug my girl, too. With the Montgomerys here, I’ve never wanted to hug Sadie more.
“Miss Quinn, look!” Sadie crashes against Quinn’s chest, wrapping her arms around her waist, cheek pressed to Quinn’s stomach as she clings to a tattered sheet of paper. Mid-squeeze, her eyes drift to mine, and she beams up at me. “Daddy! I passed my test!”
I drop to my knee and collect my girl when she slips from Quinn and runs to me, slamming into my chest the way I love. Her little hands collect behind my neck, and she drags the tip of her nose against mine. “I spelled my name, first andlast, wrote my address rightly, and I knew your phone number!”
“Correctly,” I correct, “and I’m so proud of you. Good job, Sadie. I knew you could remember all that.” I smile at her as Quinn quietly takes the paper from Sadie’s hand and sticks it to the fridge.
Sadie twists in my arms, hunting for Quinn, when she spots them. She steps back, her little brown boot coming over the top of mine, her hands searching my thighs until she finds my hands. I hold hers, and she steps onto my feet as I stand, and I recognize this as her seeking security in me. Don’t matter how many rodeos a man wins, there is no better feeling than being sought out for safety and comfort from your little girl.
“Sadie, do you remember Marnie and Charles? Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery,” I explain, adding, “the folks who send you cards sometimes. They’re here now, and they want to see you for a visit.”
Sadie’s grip around my fingers tightens, and she casts a worried look toward Quinn.
“Do you remember?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
Quinn comes to stand with us, crouching to meet Sadie’s eyeline. “Maybe the four of us could take the four-wheeler to the wishing well and you can show them how you make wishes,” Quinn offers, adding, “I’ll let you steer if you sit in my lap.”
Sadie doesn’t ask if I’m joining, because she clearly feels safe in Quinn’s company. And though our marriage isn’t real, the trust and safetyis.
“Okay,” Sadie agrees, then finally looks up at me again. “You ridin’ today, Daddy?”
I nod my head. “I surely am, sweetheart. Mr. Tate isbringing over a bronc for me to practice on. And later tonight, we’re going to the rodeo grounds to practice. And guess what? Miss Quinn is packin’ a picnic so you and her can watch me.”
She claps her hands together, and I swear to my maker, I’ve never been hit with the urge to spontaneously break down until this very moment. Even after losing Amelia, I was focused because I had to be, for my child’s sake. I’ve remained focused on chores and priorities for the last few years. There’s no time to indulge in your pain when you’re struggling to make ends meet.
But right now, the pure happiness radiating from my daughter is doing something to me. I want her to have this feeling forever, to keep this broad, unending happiness in her heart. This is what life should be like for her. This is what she deserves. And I couldn’t pull myself out of the struggle to find it. Now I’ve given her something I’ve already planned on stealing away.
