“What is it with the dares, anyway?” Harper asks. “Just for fun?

  “Sort of,” Elle answers carefully, obviously editing a little. “We’ve got three rules. One, we don’t do stuff designed to be hurtful, of ourselves or others. Two, no sex. Three, nothing majorly illegal.”

  “Majorly?”

  “I may have dared Elle to floor what’s now my Camaro,” I explain. “But in my defense, it was an open road without anyone on it.”

  “And we’re more mature now,” Elle says seriously, though she’s nodding her head so hard I think her brain is likely rattling against her skull and her shit-eating smile makes it obvious she doesn’t mean what she’s saying. “So . . . Tiff, I dare you to—”

  “I want in!” Harper says suddenly, grinning. “Come on, I’m gettin’ married.”

  “She’s right, so I’m going to pull out my modify card,” I add, whipping an invisible card out of my imaginary back pocket. “We sing.”

  Which is how we end up on stage, all three of us making damn fools of ourselves on stage as we shake, sing, and dance ourselves through Bootylicious, which is the only three-part song we could find that we all know most of the lyrics to. Besides, no one cares if you miss a line of lyrics when you roll your hips and shake your ass a bit.

  Laughing, we stumble back to our table, Elle patting Harper on the back. “Damn, girl, I didn’t know kindergarten teachers could do that! Ace is going to have a happy honeymoon!”

  “Oh, he’s got a very happy now!” Harper brags, grinning. “But shh . . . Tiffany thinks her brother’s an innocent virgin.”

  “Psssh!” I protest. “If either of you is innocent, it’s you, Harper. Or at least I thought you were. You made those cheeks clap!”

  Despite having made her small peach of an ass bounce like a video vixen, Harper blushes madly. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe I did that!”

  “The magic of the dares,” I tell her. “It’s a heavy responsibility.”

  Then we’re all laughing again.

  The next couple of acts are pretty tame, so we shift our attention away as Harper gushes to Elle about Ace, leaving Elle totally shocked at how much my brother’s changed.

  “You’re telling me that Ace Young, the king of couch potatoes everywhere and selfish asshole of the year, is now cooking you dinner and rocking your world with orgasm records? I never would’ve guessed that. Hell, I thought he was going to meld right into that couch for a while.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Harper says a bit quieter. I don’t think she likes being reminded about how bad off Ace used to be. Not because she couldn’t handle him at his worst but because she loves him so deeply that to think of him being in that much pain hurts her. Even though that gash in his heart is scarred over and sealed with Harper’s love now.

  “I guess so,” Elle agrees. Then with a grin of excitement, she asks Harper, “Wanna see pictures of Neve?”

  Harper claps in answer, adding, “Of course!”

  Elle pulls out her phone, going through five hundred pictures of Neve which seem to be mostly six or seven poses and then Elle going crazy with holding down the shutter button. So it’s basically the exact same picture dozens of times.

  “You know, Tiff, if you want to talk about your . . . ahem, love life, I don’t mind,” Elle says when she puts her phone away. “I’m cool with it.” She sounds like she’s choking on her own spit to get that out, obviously not that comfortable with hearing about what Daniel and I get up to. If only she knew.

  “Well . . . let’s see,” I reply, trying to decide whether I want to give Elle shit or be genuine. “We said the Big Three?”

  “Oh, my God! Really?” Elle says, her eyes wide in shock. She hugs me, excited. “He said the words ‘I love you’?”

  “We both said it,” I admit. “More than once. And uhm . . . well, we’re sort of soft stepping coming out at work, but we’re getting there. Mac knows because he busted us in the grass—” Oops, that’s probably something Elle doesn’t want to hear, so I rush over my own words. “And Megan and Stephanie know. Ricky and Billy, of course. And there are a few managers who know.”

  Conversation shifts, and I’m glad. I want to tell Elle . . . but I have no idea how I’m going to tell her about Mini-Me when I haven’t even told Daniel.

  I really need to. I mean, I am not the secret baby type of woman, and the only reason I kept the secret this long is because Daniel has been buried in paperwork about Mark and Brandon’s terminations.

  “Hey, one more?” Harper says after polishing off her wine. “What do you say?”

  “How about we hear you solo?” I offer. “It was your dare originally, and then you can sing one for Ace.” I switch into an intentionally off-key, shrill voice, “You are the wind beneath my wings.”

  “You think I won’t do that, but you’re about to proven wrong,” Harper says, standing and shimmying up to the signup sheet.

  Elle watches her, then leans over. “I’m glad.”

  “For what?”

  “For finding someone who can fill my shoes while I’m overseas,” Elle says. “She’s good people.”

  Harper gets up on stage, and moments later, ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ gets the Harper treatment. I look at Elle, who’s trying not to laugh. “Well,” I tell her, “at least it’s not Wednesday.”

  “No . . . at least it’s not Wednesday.”

  Chapter 26

  Daniel

  I’m actually nervous as I sit down for dinner. Gathered around the table are the important people in my life, with Elle, Colton, and my absolutely adorable little granddaughter, Neve, taking up three of the chairs while Tiffany and I sit next to each other.

  When I found out Elle had come home to the States, I instantly invited everyone over, though I wasn’t sure how it would go. I’ve never dated around Elle, always hiding anyone I did go out with. At first, because she was young and I didn’t want a possible parade of ever-changing women in her life. That was probably a good thing because those few relationships never lasted long.

  Later, it was the opposite. I didn’t want her thinking that a single date might mean more than it did. She was on a mission to have me partnered off, and coffee with a woman was a one-way ticket to a serious relationship in Elle’s mind.

  But now I am in a serious relationship. And Elle is taking it better than I could’ve ever imagined. If anything, she looks slightly smug as she sips her white wine while giving Tiffany and me little looks.

  Tonight is largely about introducing them to what Tiffany and I have become, but I’m still Elle’s father and I’ve got some questions about her relationship too. “You know, Elle, I wanted to ask you about something,” I bring up after Elle’s third suppressed giggle at Tiffany’s affection for me. “We still haven’t discussed the copying incident, dear?”

  Colton chokes on his bite of spaghetti, the only thing Neve is eating currently during her ‘schnoodles’ phase. “You know?”

  Elle is my daughter through and through and plays it cool. “And we’re not going to, Dad. What I do with Colton’s copier is our business.”

  “Do, not did?” Tiffany interjects, and Colton jumps in to change the subject.

  “Ah, Daniel, how’re things at the office?”

  Back when Colton and I were in competition for the CEO role, we never would’ve had a casual conversation about office happenings. In fact, most of our conversations were on the verge of becoming bloodbaths. But we’ve settled into our roles, his as VP in London and me as CEO in the States, and it’s considerably less cutthroat now. Actually, without the competition overshadowing our relationship, we’ve developed a friendship. One built on ‘only you would understand this insanity.’ Sometimes, that’s related to work, and sometimes, it’s about Elle.

  So telling Colton about the TRE debacle is relaxing. There are times I even laugh about it, telling Colton and Elle about Mark and Brandon’s unexpected and ridiculous fight in the lobby.

  “What was it you called it, Tiffany?” I ask. “Ultimate Fail Championships?”

  “Something like that,” Tiffany says with a laugh, bringing up her hands and weak slapping at the air in an unfortunately spot-on depiction of Mark and Brandon. Neve copies her, sending a noodle flying. “Oops!”

  “It’s okay, it’s tile,” I reply easily, giving my granddaughter a mock stern look. “Now no more slinging pasta, little lady.” My mobster accent isn’t the best, but it’ll do to keep Neve’s attention and entertain her.

  “Singing ass-ta!” Neve repeats, obviously still struggling with her Ps. “Ass-ta!”

  “Oh, God,” Elle groans. “Ass ta? Seriously, Dad?”

  “Sorry, not sorry. One day you’ll appreciate the adorableness of how she says things. I remember you mispronouncing ‘fire truck’ for ages. At the time, mortifying. In memory, hilarious. Do you remember asking the firefighter at the grocery store where his ‘fire truck’ was? He had you say it like three times because he was sure you would get it right and finally get the tr- sound. Spoiler alert, you didn’t. What you did was get louder and louder every time he asked.”

  Elle smiles. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You were around four, maybe?” I think back, the memory bringing an answering smile to my face. “Anyway, Ricky and Billy were making bets as soon as it turned physical. Surprisingly, Billy won with his gamble on Brandon.” I shrug, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t have bet on either of them myself.”

  We eat for a moment, Elle helping Neve hold her fork in her fist. After a bit, I ask Colton, “How’re things at the office?”

  “We’re doing well . . . though much less exciting. No lobby fights or sabotage, thankfully,” Colton says, sharing what the London branch is doing, though I already know since I keep a close eye on everything, everywhere. “We’re considering making baby showers a monthly thing, combined for everyone due that month. You know it’s getting to be a bit much when I’m getting marketing emails from the local baby boutique.”

  My eyes jump to Elle, but she shakes her head. “Not me. But Colton’s had three upper management guys share that their partners are pregnant, and another five women in the office either have babies or announced their pregnancy.”

  Colton corrects her. “Six. Isla told me she’s expecting a couple of days ago.”

  “I didn’t know that!” Elle squeals. “That’s her second, right?”

  “Third,” he tells Elle. To me, he asks, “Think we can write off a water sample test? I think it’s in the water cooler in the office.”

  I laugh, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Elle staring curiously at Tiffany, who is watching Neve with adoration, and to be quite honest, making a fuss over the little girl. But despite the sweet look in her eyes and silly talk, Tiffany seems a bit stiff, maybe even distracted, and I take her hand beneath the table, rubbing my thumb along the back of her hand. She smiles at me reassuringly, but the edges of her lips are trembling a bit.

  Is she still nervous? I think everything has been going well with the new dynamic between me and Tiffany and Elle.

  “Would you mind helping me with dessert?” I ask, and Elle hops right up.

  “Sure, Dad,” she says, but I wave her down.

  “I, uh, meant Tiffany.”

  Colton gives me a grin, probably thinking a few lewd ideas, while Elle blushes. Tiffany wipes her lips with her napkin and stands up, but she still seems . . . off. “Of course,” she says, putting her napkin on the table. “We’ll be back in a second, guys.”

  “Hmph, take a few minutes if you like,” Colton says slyly, and Elle punches him in the shoulder.

  In the kitchen, I pull Tiffany into my arms, cradling her tightly with her cheek lying flush to my chest. I kiss the top of her head, feeling her body press against mine. “Are you okay?”

  She nods against me, but while I might not have been in a relationship in a long time, I know when a woman is lying to me. And Tiffany is not okay right now. She’s got something heavy on her mind.

  Trying to reassure her, I run my hand over her soft hair and say, “Tiff, Elle’s taking everything beautifully. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

  “I know. It’s just a lot, and weird.” She’s talking to my chest, not meeting my eyes, and I wonder what she thinks I’d see there that she wants to hide.

  “Weird how?”

  She shrugs and looks up at me. Now that I have her eyes, I can see the worry swirling there. “To do this in front of her. It’s different when it’s just talking over the Internet or a running thing between Elle and me like we had. We always sort of laughed about it, like it was this inside joke that was never going to happen. But it did.”

  I stroke her cheek, cupping her chin to lift her up for a soft kiss. “It did,” I echo. “Maybe that’s the best kind of punchline a joke can have. To make it not a joke but an amazing reality.”

  She smiles, and it looks steadier than before. But there’s still tension in her shoulders and a small line of worry between her brows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put a damper on dinner.”

  “You didn’t. It’s a lot for me too. I’m thrilled to see Elle, but she’s been on my ass to date for decades. Despite what she says, I don’t think her best friend was what she had in mind.”

  “You having second thoughts?” she asks quietly, as though she’s not sure she wants the answer even though she asked the question.

  “Hell no,” I say emphatically. “You?”

  “Absolutely not,” she says, but a flash goes through her eyes, so quick I’m not sure I saw it and definitely too fast to decipher.

  “Tiffany, is there something else?” I prompt gently. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

  She hesitates, chewing on her lip as her eyes fall to the space between us. There’s obviously something on her mind, and when I brush a lock of her dark hair back to look deeper into her eyes, they’re stormy.

  “Tiffany?”

  I watch as she shakes her head, her eyes clearing and the tension leaving her by force. She smiles at me easily, making me that much more concerned. It’s not Tiffany’s ‘us’ smile. This is Tiffany’s ‘work’ smile.

  “I’m good,” she says brightly, but it feels artificial. “Let’s get the apple pie.”

  Reluctantly, I let her go and slice the pie, one I bought on my way home today from the best bakery in the city. We pick up the pie, plates, and silverware, carrying them back to the dining room table. Colton and Elle are talking intimately, heads close together as they whisper. Neve is feeding herself spaghetti by the handful despite her earlier decent attempts with a fork.

  Dessert is a delicious success, and really, as I think about it, other than the hiccup with Tiffany in the kitchen, overall, the dinner is a huge step forward. When Elle and Colton leave, a sleeping Neve nestled in her father’s arms, there’s a moment of awkwardness as Tiffany stands at my side. She’s not leaving with Elle this time. She’s staying where she belongs—with me.

  Finally, I reach for my daughter. “Good night, honey.”

  “G’night, Dad,” she says, giving me a long-missed hug. Turning to Tiffany, she hugs her too, a silent flurry of communication passing between them.

  “’Bye, girl.” But then she pauses and with an evil grin asks, “Do I want to know what you two are going to do tonight?”

  Tiffany gives her a smirk. “The truth? Probably watch a Friends rerun and fall asleep by ten.”

  I snicker because the truth is, we do that sometimes. But tonight, we have a lot to talk about. And I suspect Tiffany is going to want some reassurances that everything is going to be okay between her and Elle even though Elle said repeatedly that she’s fine with us. Tiffany just cares that much and would never do something that would upset her best friend.

  But at my laugh, Elle cuts sharp eyes to me and then holds up a staying hand.

  “Never mind. I don’t want to know what you and Harry get up to.”

  “Harry? Who’s Harry?” I demand sharply.

  With a glint in her eye, Elle tells Tiffany, “I’ll let you explain that one. I dare you.”

  Tiffany laughs at that, apparently feeling better with the affectionate teasing from Elle. And I actually sort of understand the dares thing and know it’s playful this time.

  “By the way, he hates Harry Potter.”

  It’s like Elle drops a bomb. Tiffany wheels toward me, outrage on her face. “You hate Harry Potter? How could you? That’s it. Dealbreaker. I’m going to the hotel with Elle. I’ll bunk up with Neve, you . . . you . . . muggle!”

  I chuckle and take her in my arms again. “You’re staying here, Tiff.” It’s not a request, nor a question, and my voice has gone rough. A shiver works its way down her spine, and I chase it with my fingertips.

  “Uh-oh, the dad voice,” Elle says.

  Tiffany smirks, looking happier than she has all evening. “You mean the Daddy voice.”

  “And on that note, we’re leaving.”

  We say our goodbyes, and I close the door behind them.

  In the silence, I glance at Tiffany, who looks a bit better. Maybe conversation about tonight can wait until later. Because the truth is . . . with everything going better than expected with Elle, I want to reassure Tiffany that we’re good.

  I want to celebrate this milestone—inside her, with her coming on my cock and crying my name.

  “Well, I suggest we go to bed,” I tell her, picking her up in my arms. “And then we’ll see about what I might be able to conjure up. I might even have a good expelliarmus in my wand.”

  She laughs at my bad attempt at a Harry Potter joke but then turns serious. “Mmm, I definitely could enjoy that.”

  It’s not far to my bedroom, and Tiffany’s light as a feather. I walk her in with strong, sure strides, carrying her to my bed and laying her down like the precious jewel she is.

  “You are so beautiful. I only wish I’d truly seen you sooner,” I tell her. “That you love me is the biggest mystery of my life and the most precious gift.”

  “I’ve always seen you as the amazing man you are. This is more than I ever dreamed.” Tiffany runs her fingers through my hair, her eyes hooded as she pulls me down for a kiss. I press her into the bed, tasting the last of the apple pie on her lips.