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"How is my princess?" Hearing his voice, she immediately gets antsy and tries to reach for him.
When she can't see or touch him, her fussing gets louder. Whenever Daddy is near, no one else matters. "You need to wait a few more minutes. Then you can go to Daddy," I try to soothe her, and Den chuckles.
I glare at my best friend, and she makes a zip motion across her mouth. Denielle thinks this is hilarious.
George also laughs in the driver's seat, and my daughter’s undivided attention switches to our head of security. Yup, I'm officially in third place; she prefers our bodyguard to me. I can’t be mad, though. The men in her life adore her and spoil her rotten. Who wouldn't want that all the time? I smile down at her little round face, and the image of an old baby picture instantly appears behind my mental eye. I blink a few times. This is not the time to cry.
We pullstraight into the garage, and I let George and Rhys get out while I unbuckle our daughter. I barely have her out of the car seat when she reaches for Rhys, who has just opened my door.
"Here you go. There is your da—" is all I get out before she dives into his arms.
He grins down at her proudly and hugs her to his chest, placing a kiss on her blonde curls. "I missed you, too, princess."
I climb out of the car and grab the diaper bag. My pulse increases as I scan the motor pool. His car is here, but why is he not coming to say hello?
"Where is he?" I address George, who’s already halfway through the door leading to the east wing. Turning, he first looks at Rhys then at me. "He is in the kitchen."
Heather steps to my side. "You go on. I’ll make sure everyone gets situated, and then we'll meet you in a little bit."
I hug her absently, my gaze not leaving the now empty doorframe to the house. "Thank you."
She is starting to direct everyone to their rooms.
With shaking legs, I step from the garage into the hallway. The smell of garlic tomato sauce drifts into my nose, and I’m instantly taken back to one of my first meals here so many years ago.
So much has changed since then.
Nate has spent the last several years in a psychiatric facility, taking responsibility for his crimes. He was taken off medication for the last three and solely focused on therapy. I'm so proud of him for what he has accomplished.
Rhys and I finished college, got married, had a baby—not to mention what went on in our friends’ lives. Life was never...ordinary.
Rhys places his free arm around my waist, smiling down. "Let’s go. It’s time he meets his niece."
My stomach is in knots the closer we get to the kitchen, and my feet are moving slower and slower until Rhys begins to herd me. I don't know why I'm so nervous. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him in so long, or because we’ve barely spoken the last few weeks, and I'm worried something is wrong.
Slowly, I push open the door and pause. Nate is standing at the stove, his back to us. His hair is longer than I remember, and he is wearing faded blue jeans and a white long-sleeve shirt.
"Nate?" I call out hesitantly.
He whirls around, and our eyes lock. My throat thickens. I've missed him so much this past year. I was on bed rest for the last few months of my pregnancy and then didn't want to leave my daughter overnight. Rhys and I also were extremely overprotective of her. We avoided everything that could bring her to the attention of the media. Hence, we didn't take her to see Nate.
I can't stop myself and run over, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding on as tight as I can. He returns the embrace and places his cheek on the top of my head.
"I missed you, too, little sister," his voice cracks.
His words make me squeeze him even tighter, and a sob bubbles up in my throat. We stand like this for several minutes until a tiny squeal alerts me from the door that there is someone else my brother needs to greet.
I disentangle myself from him and wipe at my eyes. Still keeping one arm wrapped around him, I guide Nate away from the stove while Rhys slowly walks into the room. When we are only a few feet apart, Rhys turns our daughter in his arm so she is sitting on one arm, and he secures her with the other against his chest.
Nate's gaze moves from my face to his niece, and he sucks in a breath. His free hand flies to his mouth. With tears in his eyes, he glances between my daughter's, Rhys's, and my face.
"She looks so much like..." a hoarse whisper comes from my brother. Our little girl's eyes fly to her uncle’s, and she immediately starts grasping for him, opening and closing her tiny fists, squirming in Rhys's arms until he can barely contain her. He looks at me for help on what to do. Feeling the moisture in my own eyes spill over, I simply nod, and my husband hands our baby girl over to my brother.
Nate cradles her like she is the most precious treasure in the whole world. She peers up at him, and her small hand tries to pat his face.
With my arms now wrapped around Rhys's waist, I wait for my brother to meet my gaze before saying, "Nate, meet your niece, Audrey Hamlin McGuire."
