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“Daddy!”
He stumbles back at the sound of his daughter’s voice. She’s barreling our way, and her brown pigtails soar through the air. She runs right into his leg with ahumphand giggles when he catches her.
“Come dance with me!”
Affection fills his face when he peeks down at her with a smile and twirls a pigtail around his finger. “Give me a second, sweetie. I’m talking with Willow, and then I’m all yours.”
“But this is my favorite song ever.” She pouts.
I force a laugh, seeing my perfect escape plan. Dancing seems to be my savior tonight. “You can’t deny a dance with a girl that adorable,” I say, shooing them away. “Go. I need to make a call anyway.”
Maven jumps up and down, clapping her hands in excitement, and Dallas stares at me with concern before leaning forward.
“I never had any intention to hurt you,” he whispers.
But you did, I mouth back.
Damn, did he.
“Daddy!” Maven whines. “The song is going to be over!”
He gives me a nod before walking away.
I don’t let the tears fall until I see his back.
The fuck?
I’m not this overly sensitive chick.
These hormones are messing with my hard-ass persona.
I brush them away, sniffling, and dash toward the exit. I need to get out of here and away from these people. I need silence, a moment to sulk about how I made a stupid decision for the millionth time.
I’m almost out the door when I nearly trip on my feet. My arm is grabbed, and I’m pulled down a dimly lit hallway. I attempt to swat the connection away, but it doesn’t work, and I’m not released until we land in a small utility room.
“What in the flying fuck is going on with you?” Stella demands, crossing her arms. “And don’t you dare try to feed me some new diet bullshit. Diets don’t make you cry.”
“Nothing,” I stutter out, wiping my warm cheeks in an attempt to rid myself of the evidence.
“Bullshit.” She pauses, waiting for me to let out my secret, but I stand my ground. “I’ll keep us in here all night.” She narrows her smoky eyes my way. “Do you want to be blamed for keeping a girl away from her engagement party?”
Guilt trips. Stella excels at giving them.
“I’ll tell you later. I promise.”
She shrugs, pops a squat on the carpeted floor, and stretches out her legs.
I let out a dramatic breath. “Fine.But you have to promise, it won’t leave this room.”
“All of your secrets are safe with me. Always have been.”
“This is bigger than hacking into Brett’s phone or when I pissed myself after we drank too many Skinnygirl margaritas.”
“You could’ve killed Brett, and I wouldn’t blab.”
“Promise me.”
“Jesus, Willow,didyou kill the bastard?”
