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Caden nods and I take a breath before carefully taking the tarp off. I look to Caden immediately, because the painting I did is engrained in my mind, and I want to see his reaction. I watch as he stares, as the image registers in his head. I see the way realization dawns, eyes softening as his lips part in shock. And then when his eyes start to get glassy and a sharp breath escapes him, I feel my own eyes sting at the emotion that is so clearly shown on his face.
“Daria. . .” He trails off, and my heart squeezes at the tremble in his voice. He walks closer, unable to take his eyes off the painting. “It’s beautiful. It’s. . . it’s him.”
The him in question is his brother, Sean. Caden’s dad had given me his favorite picture of his late son—a beautiful photograph of Sean sitting at a window seat, just a little boy, with a guitar in his lap as he plays it. He’s looking out the window as he plays, sunshine bathing his face, his profile visible. I worked on this painting day and night, getting every detail excruciatingly right, because it felt like the most important painting I will ever do. Every color was precise to the picture Jacob had given me, with intense focus given to Sean’s face, wanting to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t tear up while working on the painting, just thinking of Caden and the loss he suffered. I wanted to do this painting justice and judging by the look on Caden’s face, I think I may have.
My heart thunders in my chest at the sight of Caden’s reddening eyes. Wringing my fingers, I say quietly, “I hope your dad likes it.”
“Are you kidding?” Caden asks breathlessly, gaze meeting mine. So many emotions swim in his eyes, and my pulse jumps as he approaches me. His hands cup my cheeks, the corners of his mouth tipping up in an overwhelmed, breathless smile. “He’s going to love it.” His throat works, gaze searching mine, and I’m wrapped up in him and his familiar scent as he says hoarsely, “I love you.”
A gasp gets trapped in my throat, and the stinging in my eyes intensifies. Tears blur my vision as I look up at him, electricity coursing through my veins. Those words. . . I’ve been waiting so long to hear them, and now that Caden has breathed life into them, I can’t stop the damn tears. But I smile through them, my hands fisting the front of his shirt, and my voice trembles as I say, “I love you, too.” My blue eyes meet his hazel, which swim with so much adoration and happiness andlovethat it knocks the breath out of me. “So much.”
He grins, that heart-stopping smile, and then kisses me like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do. Who am I to stop him?
EPILOGUE
Caden
Seven months later…
Today is the day.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind when my eyes open in the morning. Turning my head, I look at Daria, who is sound asleep next to me, blonde hair a halo around the pillow as she peacefully sleeps. The sight of her squeezes my chest, as it has always done, filling me with an overwhelming kind of love that I think I felt for her the moment we met. Being able to feel it fully and without any reservations is a thrill of its own.
Carefully, I get up from bed, putting on a shirt and sweatpants. Quietly making my way to my closet, I crouch down and unzip my duffel bag, digging through the clothes inside until my fingers wrap around a small velvet box. My pulse quickens as I pocket it and when I stand, glance at the bed. Daria is still asleep. Good.
After using the bathroom, I exit our bedroom and shut the door behind me, before making my way down the hall to Elaine’s bedroom. It’s been months since Daria and Elaine moved out of their apartment and moved into my penthouse, and it still trips me up, in the best way, to know I’ve got her and Elaine living with me. The three of us, together like a family, like we always should have been.
Opening Elaine’s bedroom door, a surprised chuckle escapes me when I see her already awake and sitting on her bed. She grins when she sees me, climbing off the bed. “I was waiting for you,” she whispers excitedly.
My own grin is wide as I pick her up, carrying her into the kitchen. She knows the importance of today. I had told her and trusted her to keep the secret, and the four-year-old didn’t disappoint. She’s my little partner in crime.
In the kitchen, the two of us settle into our routine of making breakfast together. It’s our thing—mine and Elaine’s. Daria is super mom, that will never change, but Elaine and I do our best to show our gratitude, to give her a break whenever we can. One of the ways we do that is by making breakfast for all of us.
Today’s breakfast, though, is extra special. More important. Possibly life changing.
If she says yes.
But she will. I know she will. It doesn’t settle the nerves, though, despite Dad’s, Cody’s, and the guys’ reassurances.
Instead of dwelling on the actual proposal, I focus my attention on making breakfast. We’ve got a whole spread to make. Elaine is my helping hand, my little sous chef, in helping me make our signature chocolate chip pancakes, along with some avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee.
Elaine knows the importance of today, knows that I’m going to be asking her mom to marry me. Days ago, I had asked her if she would be okay with that. I know she’s only four, but she’s an intuitive, emotionally intelligent little girl, and she seemed to know exactly what I was talking about when I asked her the question. What she said in return nearly sent me to my knees.
“Does that mean I can call you Daddy?”
Fuck me, she almost made me cry. True to his word, there has been no contact with Logan, and Daria had worried that Elaine would be hurt and wondering why Logan wasn’t around anymore. She hadn’t known how to explain it to Elaine if she asked about Logan, but Elaine hadn’t brought it up, and it makes me wonder about her relationship with Logan if she wasn’t outwardly curious as to where her dad was. But Daria has been such an important part in her life, such an amazing mom, that I don’t think Elaine even noticed. She has Daria. And she has me, too.
And so, I had told her that if she wanted, she could call medad. She had smiled and hugged me, and that squeezing in my chest only intensified. Because Elaineismy daughter. Daria is it for me. This is my family. And it’s about time I make it official.
When we have set the table, I tell Elaine, “Go bring Mama.”
Elaine grins and runs off, her little feet pattering against the floor, and I loosen a breath. I look around the living room that I can see from where I stand by the table. My place now has touches of Daria and Elaine all over, which I fucking love. Pictures that Elaine has drawn are stuck to the fridge, along with her schedule that Daria and I split. Now that I’m in the off-season, I can help out more than I can when the season is going.
Pictures of us, and of Daria with her friends, are framed on the TV mantle. Touches of the two of them that makes this place their home that I find myself admiring often.
Footsteps sound, and I will my pulse to calm down as Elaine drags Daria into the room, holding her mom’s hand. “Wow,” Daria laughs gently as she looks at the table. She arches an eyebrow at me. “This is a nice spread.” We sit down, Daria in between Elaine and me, and Daria asks me, “What’s the occasion?”
