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Basically, I’m fucked.
“Daddy, look!” Blakely lifts her empty plate to show me that it’s cleaned.
“Good job, baby girl,” I tell her.
“Now we get cake?” she asks.
“We have to let Uncle Brooks and Aunt Palmer cut the cake first,” I remind her.
“Uncle Brooks!” she calls out over the banquet hall.
“Blakely,” I scold, and my dad voice that I’ve perfected comes out to play.
“Aunt Palmer!” she calls out, ignoring me.
“Blakely!” Palmer calls back with a huge smile on her face.
“Can we have cake?” my daughter calls back, and I’m beyond scolding her. How can I when Palmer is answering her?
“Of course we can. This is our party; we can do what we want!” Palmer hollers back. The room erupts in laughter because that’s a classic Palmer reply.
My eyes scan to my brother, who is looking down at his new wife with hearts in his eyes, and nods. If it’s within his power, he’ll make it happen in regard to his wife and his niece. As soon as Blakely called out, we all knew how this was going to turn out.
“Kiss!” Maverick calls out.
Brooks grins, sliding his hand behind Palmer’s neck, and kisses the hell out of her. I hear a sigh from beside me. Looking over, I see Kennedy watching them. She’s smiling with her hands resting over her heart.
There is just something about a wedding. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling all “she’s mine” when it comes to this woman. She’s not mine. Not even close, but even just thinking about it makes me want to turn that thought into reality.
“What?” Blakely shrieks. She turns to face me. “Daddy? Why did Aunt Palmer put cake all over Uncle Brooks's face?” She scrunches up her little nose in confusion.
“That’s tradition.”
“What’s tradition?” She tilts her head to the side.
“A tradition is something you always do. Like we have Christmas Eve at Mamaw and Papaw’s, and when Daddy goes fishing with Papaw and his brothers.”
“That’s a silly tradition.” She shakes her head like adults are weird. She’s right about that.
“Blake!” Brooks calls out. “Come here, sweetheart. You get the first piece,” he tells her.
My daughter is quick to scramble from her chair and rush to my brother. He hands her a plate with a piece of cake. I scoot my chair from the table, ready to go help her, but Merrick scoops her up in his arms. He must ask for a bite because she shakes her head and moves her plate to the side out of his reach. My brother tosses his head back in laughter, and I grin. Don’t mess with Blakely and her cake.
“She’s such a sweet girl, Declan.”
Turning toward Kennedy, I nod. “Thank you. She’s a handful, but I couldn’t ever picture my life without her in it.”
“You’re a good dad.”
“Thank you. It’s hard, you know? To be dad and mom at the same time. I worry she’s not getting what she needs.”
“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. She’s a happy, healthy little girl. She’s surrounded by love, and you can see that in her confidence. You’re doing an incredible job with her.”
“I appreciate you saying that. Some days I wonder.”
“Well, don’t.” Her voice is firm. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Something flashes in her eyes, but it’s masked before I can figure out what it means.
“Delivery,” Merrick says, placing Blakely in her chair. He kisses the top of her head and moves to the table next to ours, where Ryder and Sterling are sitting.
I suddenly realize that my entire family has left us alone. Well, aside from Archer. Kennedy, Blakely, and I are occupying this table all on our own. It’s as if they are intentionally giving us our space. Am I that obvious? Did Archer open his mouth? Either way, I’m happy to have this time with her. Even if I’ll be fielding questions from my family for weeks to come, it’ll be worth it.
“Daddy, you need to go get Kenny some cake.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” Kennedy is quick to correct.
“My girls want cake. That’s what they get.” I wink at Kennedy as I stand from the table to grab her some cake. It’s not until my mom hands me two plates with a small grin that I realize what I said.
My girls.
It’s official. I’ve lost my damn mind over this woman.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Kennedy
My girls.
Blakely is jabbering a mile a minute, but I’m not retaining any of her words. I keep hearing Declan’s voice just before he left to grab us a piece of cake. Did I hear him right? Did he say “my girls”? He did. I know that he did. I should be put off by that, but I’m not. Instead, my heart flutters in my chest, and my palms are sweaty.
I don’t know what it is about this man, but he seems to rile me up. I mean, come on, the ink is barely dry on my divorce decree, and here I am feeling some kind of way about a man who lives too far away for me to be entertaining anything with him.
