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“You are,” she agrees, giggling through the onslaught of my hand on her tummy. “But you’re not supposed to mess up Henley’s hair when you want to tell her you love her.” Her giggles freeze along with my hand. Once I flip her back over and she brushes her hair out of her face, she cups her hand around my ear and murmurs, “You’re meant to kiss her.”
22
HENLEY
I bite my palm to lessen the leverage of my grin when Brodie tells Lucy she was born purple and screaming.
“Are you saying I’m an alien?”
“No…” Brodie’s hearty chuckle hides my breathy laugh. “You were just screaming so tenaciously—”
“Stubbornly?” Lucy checks, forever seeking knowledge.
Brodie murmurs in agreement as I nod. “You refused to breathe until you were placed on your mother’s chest.” My heart faces its third stutter today. “Then you instantly stopped crying and looked at her in awe.” His voice is loved up when he whispers, “It was love at first sight.”
My back flattens against the wall outside Lucy’s room when she asks, “Like you and Henley?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve come up during their thirty-minute story session tonight, but it is the first time Brodie has taken his time to respond.
After a beat, he answers, “Kinda.” Through the crack in her door, I watch him pull her head into his chest before running his fingers through her hair. “The love a child has for their parent differs from the love they have for their spouse.”
My heart beats again when Lucy asks, “What’s a spouse?”
“It is the person you choose to be with. Your girlfriend, wife—”
“My boyfriend?” Lucy pipes up, her little voice a roar.
“The boyfriend you’ll meet after your thirtieth birthday.” Upon noticing the slow blink of her eyes, he lowers his voice. “And even though nothing will change between us, you will love him differently from me.”
“Because I chose to be with him?” Lucy asks between yawns.
“Uh-huh. And if you didn’t, Daddy will bury him under six feet of dirt.”
Lucy half laughs, half huffs. She’s barely conscious enough to reply.
It has been a big day for all of us.
The reminder sees me standing and heading for the shower after collecting my robe and towel from my room. I’m drained of energy, which has nothing to do with my stupidity last night. Brodie’s self-defense class was intense. It sweated the leftover alcohol out of my system and had me wanting to bend in two and heave, but I refused to give up. I want to know how to protect myself, but more than anything, I want to do everything I can to protect Lucy.
It dawns on me that my steps must be super sluggish when my track into the bathroom is interrupted by Brodie entering from his bedroom.
“Hey.” The groove between his dirty-blond brows is nowhere near as prominent. “Good minds think alike,” he says after noticing my belongings hanging over my arm. “You go first.”
“Before you leave.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. “I still can’t work out the faucet. I’ve been having cold showers all week.”
A grin pulls at my lips when he murmurs, “You’re not the only one.”
The door lining the hallway is closed, so the space is even tighter than normal. Brodie’s shoulder brushes past my chest when he steps past me to switch on the shower. It sends a zap of electricity rocketing down my spine and has my knees drawing together.
I am confident I’m not the only one feeling the current hissing between us, but Brodie tries to act ignorant to the rising hairs at his nape. “It’s getting worse. I’ll try to get a plumber in next week.”
I can tell the exact moment he gets the temperature right, because the scent of his aftershave strengthens.
“If Caroline picked your aftershave, she had good taste.”
He balks for the quickest second. However, he doesn’t shut down our conversation. “It was too cheap for her palate.” He looks at me through a sheet of hair that has fallen in front of his eyes. “But she grew to appreciate it.” He wets his mouth and then nudges his head to the stream of water. “Is that okay?”
Brodie hisses when I lean across to check the temperature. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He nods to acknowledge my praise before moving back to his half of the bathroom. Although his movements are fast, I don’t miss the quick inhalation he takes when his steps fluff up my hair. It’s stinky and desperate for a wash, but he drinks it in as if it is liquid gold.
He almost makes it out the door before he suddenly stops and spins back around. I’m left a little lost when he mimics my praise. “Thank you.”
“For?” My confusion can’t be missed, even in the shortness of my reply.
His answer hitches my breath. “For saving me from making a mistake I couldn’t take back.” He peers through the door, picturing Lucy’s room on the other side. “She deserves to know her mother, and I had no right to keep that from her.”
