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“Daddy!”
He opened his arms for his son.
Chapter3
In the light of fatherhood, Sullivan shone a whole lot differently.
That was the first thought that entered Edwina’s head when she saw the embrace between him and his son. They obviously adored each other, and the casual, sexy nonchalance of Sullivan the bachelor was replaced by a clear expression of pride and raw emotion toward his son.
She hadn’t imagined Sullivan O’Toole could be any more attractive, but he was proving her wrong.
He picked his son up and told him, “Finn, say hello to Miss Edwina. She used to play hockey with me back in the day.”
“Hi,” Finn said, giving her a smile before burying his face in his dad’s chest.
Now that was a cute kid. He had his father’s blue eyes but his hair was a much lighter brown than Sullivan’s and it was on the longer side, to his chin, with a baby fine texture that curled at the ends. He had put his arms around Sullivan’s neck and was now digging his feet into his stomach, trying to climb up his father’s chest.
“Hi, Finn, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, resisting the urge to run her hand down his back.
She loved kids, but rarely had a chance to interact with them. None of her New York friends had become parents yet and as an only child, there were no nieces or nephews. Her stepfather, George, had two sons in their late forties and their three kids were all emerging adults, well past toddlerhood. Two in college, one in high school. She never saw much of them anyway. George’s sons had thought her mother was a gold digger and despite the fact that their marriage had lasted sixteen years now, the family wasn’t super close.
“Finn, where are you going?” Sullivan asked, trying to hold the wiggling boy.
“On your shoulders.”
“You could ask instead of monkey climbing on me. Where’s Aunt Sloane? Or did you drive yourself here?”
Finn laughed. “She’s getting ‘Nelope out of the car.”
Nelope? Was that a dog? If Sullivan thought he was moving in with his sonanda dog, Edwina was going to body check him before he could enter her apartment.
But before she could question the situation, a woman came up the driveway carrying a baby.
“You remember my sister, Sloane,” Sullivan said. “And that little cutie is her daughter, Penelope.”
Relief ran through Edwina that Nelope was a baby and not a Great Dane. “Oh, right, sure, I remember her.” She’d been envious of Sloane, who was a confident and popular cheerleader. She’d been considered one of the prettiest girls in school and had boys chasing after her nonstop. She’d been everything Edwina hadn’t been.
“Hi,” Sloane said, smiling as she approached them, wearing shorts and a tank top, carrying a baby around four months old, if Edwina had to guess.
“Sloane, this is Eddie’s daughter, Edwina. She moved away back when we were teenagers but she played hockey with me.”
“Oh, right, Eddie. Or do you prefer to be called Edwina? Anyway, it’s nice to see you again. I remember you hanging around the ice rink with Sullivan and his friends all the time.”
“It’s nice to see you again too. Everyone in New York calls me Edwina,” she said, because it was true. Her mother had put a stop to the tomboy nickname immediately after they’d rolled out of Beaver Bend.
“But which do you prefer?” her father asked, giving her a pointed stare. “That was her question.”
“Dad,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She knew he thought her mother steamrolled her as a teenager, and he wasn’t wrong. But she was a grown woman, and Edwina was her given name. Then she turned back to Sloane and plastered a smile on her face. “Yes, that was me, happiest on the ice. Congratulations, by the way. Your daughter is adorable.”
She leaned in and smiled at Penelope, indulging herself by running a finger down the silky smoothness of her tiny arm.
The baby gave her a gummy grin in return, which made her heart and her ovaries melt.
“Thank you. She’s just the best. I’m so in love with her. I married Rick, you know. He’s such a good father,” Sloane gushed.
“Rick?” She was obviously supposed to know who that was. “Was he older than you? I can’t place the name.”
“No, he was your age. Rick Ryder.”
