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“Miranda.” I smile, and she looks at her uncle.
“What’s up, bug?” he prompts.
“You have a girlfriend?”
“Winter.” There’s a warning in his tone.
“It’s just a question.” She looks down at the dog and mutters, “I swear, no one tells me anything.” The dog’s tail wags in response, while I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Did you need something?” Tucker asks, and she steps down into the living room, keeping her eyes on me.
“Dad is on a call, but Skye needs to go out.”
“Does Skye need to go out, or do you want to go upstairs to play?”
She looks at Tucker and notches up her chin an inch. “Dad said I could play for a few minutes while Skye goes outside, if you say it’s okay.”
He looks over at me, and I feel her do the same. Apparently, I’m going to be the deciding factor here.
“I’m done eating.”
“Go get your shoes,” he orders, and with a happy grin, she bounces toward the door, shouting over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”
“She’s adorable,” I whisper when she’s gone.
“Her future husband is going to have his work cut out for him,” he grunts, and I grin.
I bet her future husband is, but it’s not going to be for the reasons he’s thinking. A girl who grows up with a dad and uncles who all show her love and give her her every heart’s desire is not going to settle for less than that from any man.
“Are you sure you’re done eating?” He looks down at my plate.
“Yeah, it was delicious. Thank you.”
His face gets soft, and he gets up, taking my plate from me. I follow him into the kitchen with his beer and my glass of wine.
“Ready!” Winter bounces back through the door, with Skye right at her side. “I told Dad you said I could play.”
“All right, bug. Let’s go.” Tucker takes my hand as he walks around the island, and she doesn’t miss it. She also doesn’t say anything, even though I can see she wants to.
“Your dog is very cool,” I say as we walk out of Tucker’s apartment into the hall.
“She’s Uncle Clay’s dog,” she informs me, then adds, “I want a dog, but Dad says I have to be older to get one.”
“That makes sense. Having a dog is a lot of responsibility.” I rub Skye’s head when she presses her nose into my fingers.
“I’m responsible,” she assures. “I’ve had the same fish since I was like three. I even resatated it!” The word resuscitated is pronounced adorably wrong.
“How did you do that?” We step into the elevator, and Tucker holds his phone to the screen that lights up.
“Larry was floating in his bowl and not moving, so I gave him chicken soup like my dad gives me when I’m sick, and when I came home from school, he was all better.”
I look at Tucker, who has his lips pressed tightly together.
“Wow, so you’re like a fish doctor.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugs happily before skipping out of the elevator when the doors open, Skye right on her heels.
Stepping out into a long hallway, we go to the door, and the moment Tucker has it open and the lights on, Skye and Winter both run to a set of double doors across the expansive space and disappear through them.
I don’t know what I expect, but the moment Tucker and I walk through the double doors, I stop in my tracks. I assumed when Tucker said that Clay had a playroom for Winter that he meant a typical playroom—blocks, maybe a plastic kids slide or similar, and lots of toys. I didn’t know he meant he had an entire kids zone, like you pay money to visit, inside his apartment.
“Is that a tree house?” I whisper in disbelief as Winter appears through the branches before squealing and slipping down a long slide.
“It is.”
“Wow.” I look around, spotting a full bar that’s stocked, a huge TV, and three couches.
“Miles and Winter used to live with Clay before their place was finished, so he had all this built for her.”
“Kingston would lose his mind if he ever saw this.” I walk across the giant room toward a play set with full-size swings, monkey bars, and a slide.
“When do you have him back?”
“The day after tomorrow. Then he’s with me for a few days.”
“We’ll bring him over this weekend. Winter would love having someone to play with and boss around.” I laugh, leaning into his side, and his hand lets mine go so he can wrap his arm around my waist, his fingers sliding up my sweater so he can have contact with my skin.
“Uncle Tucker’s girlfriend, do you want to come play with me?” Winter shouts from the top of the tree house.
“Her name is Miranda, bug.”
“Okay! Miranda, do you want to come play with me?” she shouts again.
