Page 44 of But For You

Once we sat, I introduced myself, Kola, and Hannah to Jim and his wife, Anita, and their two daughters, Renee and Joyce. When I saw Sam cutting across the tent—he had been waylaid a couple of times by his cousin Levi and others—I waved so he’d see where we were.

When he joined us, of course, the women sat up straight and leaned forward, both very happy to meet him. I understood. If a big, virile, strapping alpha male was your wet dream, you needed to look no further than Sam Kage. The killer smile was on display, as was the stubble over his square jaw and under his lip; he had laugh lines in the corners of his eyes and bulging muscles. Power rippled off the man, combined with dominance and strength. I would have been very interested as well if he wasn’t already mine.

“So, how are we related?” Sam smiled at Anita, the mother.

“We’re not really.” She smiled at him. “Frank married my mother, Donna, after his first wife passed away, and she already had me and my brother, Paul.”

“Got it. Is your mother here?”

“Yes, she’s at the table with Frank and a lot of other people I don’t know.”

“This is huge.” Sam grinned as Hannah reached up and touched his chin. “Yes, B?”

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“I know, love. We just have to wait until they call our section to go up.”

“Where’s your mommy, bunny?” Anita’s daughter Renee asked Hannah.

Now, maybe she asked because there were two more free chairs at our table—it was supposed to seat ten. Maybe she thought Sam and I were cousins and we were waiting for our wives since we were both wearing wedding rings. Who knew? It still happened sometimes when we went out, and normally, I wouldn’t care, but this was a family reunion, and I wanted people to know that the big guy was with me. I opened my mouth to set her straight.

“I don’t have a mommy; I have Pa and Daddy. Do you have a mommy and daddy?” Hannah asked cheerfully, taking advantage of the moment between the end of her question and me deciding what to say to take control of the conversation.

Renee flushed beet red, and her eyes got huge. “Yes, I⁠—”

“Do you have a big house? ’Cause I do, and I have a cat named Chilly. Do you have a cat?”

“No, I⁠—”

“Chilly’s all white, except he has black on his ears and his nose. I can draw you a picture of him if you want. Do you have a dog since you don’t have a cat?”

“I—”

“Kola was born in Neverland, but not like where Peter Pan lives. It’s a different place,” she said authoritatively. “Do you know where that is? I know where that is. I know where Uglay is too. That’s where I was born. Do you know why I have a daddy and a pa? Because where Kola was born, pa means daddy. So, that’s why Pa is Pa.”

“I—”

“Where’s your mommy?”

“R-r-right … there,” she stammered, pointing at her mother.

“You’re her mommy?” Hannah asked Anita brightly.

“Yes, darling.”

My girl was a chatterbox, and she had gotten that from me. I loved it. She was a steamroller.

“How come she doesn’t have a cat?” My daughter was very concerned about this development.

“She’s allergic to them.”

The piece of information floored my daughter.

Hannah scrunched up her nose like that was the worst thing she’d ever heard in her whole life before she whispered to Sam, “Daddy.”

“Yes, B?” He chuckled.

“She’s allergic, so she can’t come to our house.”