“That’s what I’m here for.” I push at him, but the solid fucker doesn’t move an inch. “What’d Daniel say?”

  My good humor evaporates, my smile dissolving.

  Ace takes it completely wrong, though. “Oh, shit, he’s the father, right?”

  I swat at his chest. I might not be able to move him, but I can still inflict a little damage. “Of course he is! What kind of question is that?”

  The dogs in the back, seeing me swat at Ace, think we’re playing without them and start barking loudly. Winston gets excited by the noise and action and starts humping Ace’s leg. Ace cries out, though he’s laughing too. “Yehrt!” He makes that weird noise that all the dogs respond to, and it gets quieter.

  My reprieve over, Ace asks again, “What’d Daniel say?”

  My lips purse as I look at Ace in embarrassment. “I, uh . . . I haven’t told him yet.”

  Ace whistles softly, “Damn, girl.” But then he reaches out, taking my hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Ace hugs me again. “For letting me be the one to take care of you for once. Now, like you did for me . . . talk.”

  For the next few minutes, I do. I start pacing again, Winston back at my side for every step, though I’m not sure if he’s heeling so much as stalking me like a horndog now. Ace slams chicken strip after chicken strip. I don’t mind. I only wanted the fries, anyway.

  And I tell him everything.

  How this wasn’t planned.

  How I don’t want Daniel to think I’m trapping him.

  “Do you think he would?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think so. But I have no idea. Does he even want to be a father again? He’s already a grandfather.”

  “That’s all about Daniel,” Ace says, “but I suspect you’re worrying needlessly. I’ve seen how he looks at you. Now, the big question is, what do you want? How do you feel?”

  “Truth?” I ask, and he nods. I sit down at the counter next to him, thinking. “I’m freaked out. Excited. Worried. Happy. Scared. It’s a whole emotional gumbo in here.” I gesture to my body.

  “Sounds about right,” Ace says. “I mean, I’m in a different stew, but I smell what you’re cookin’. Marriage is scary too.”

  All at once, I shove another bundle of fries into my mouth. They’re cold and gross now, but I chew and swallow them anyway. “Worst of all, all these nerves have me stress eating like hell. I’ve gone through two boxes of cheese crackers, but that’s like, seventy-five percent of my food intake. Aren’t mothers supposed to eat healthy stuff? I’m eating like shit, and—”

  “And you’re doing fine,” Ace says calmly, counterbalancing my impending panic attack as I remember the milkshake I had for breakfast, telling myself that it was sort of like a fruit smoothie if it had strawberries in it. “And you’re going to do fine. Hell, you’re going to be one of those mother of the year types because you’re loving and caring but take no shit. You think a kid raised by you is going to end up being a mopey punk ass like I was for so long?”

  “I . . . you had good reason,” I remind him. Remembering that the whole thing that set off his downward spiral was that the baby he’d thought was his hadn’t been, I say, “You’re going to be a fantastic uncle too.”

  “Totally,” Ace assures me. “Your kid’s going to have their own different set of issues, but not because they won’t be loved. You’re going to protect, and love, and raise that kid regardless of what happens. Because that’s exactly what a mom has to do.” Ace snags a fry before I eat them all and chews. “And I’m going to teach him or her to color outside the boundaries you try to set. I’ll help the kid know when it’s okay to break some rules and have an adventure. Maybe do something crazy.”

  “That’s . . . terrifying,” I admit.

  Ace smiles. “I promise no tattoos until they’re at least sixteen, no skydiving until they’re eighteen, and I’ll drive the night they turn twenty-one.”

  I shake my head, chuckling despite myself. “You are such an asshole. I love you. And I’m already calling veto on all of that.”

  “Love you too, Sis. But really, you’re gonna be great. And Harper and I have your back,” Ace continues, using the even, no-nonsense voice that I used for so long when I was trying to talk sense into him. “And Mom and Dad will too, you know that. They’ll be over the moon to finally have a grandchild.”

  “Mom’s going to give you so much shit for not doing it first.”

  “I promise that Harper and I will work on it when the time’s right,” Ace says easily. “But seriously, you need to talk to Daniel. He’s a good man, Tiff.”

  “And if he doesn’t want the baby? Or me?”

  “Then he’s a damn fool,” Ace says matter-of-factly. “But also . . . what if he does? How great would that be? Have a little faith, and trust him.”

  Chapter 28

  Daniel

  I don’t remember how Frankie’s became ‘our place’. More than likely, it was that sort of random connection that happens in life— we went because we were hungry, had a good time, and did it again. That again became another time, and another time, and soon enough, it was our spot. And sitting at a picnic table with Elle makes it feels like old times.

  And just like old times, Elle looks me up and down, her eyes evaluating so much as her mouth says little until she’s made up her mind. She’s got a mind like a sharp scalpel, able to precisely excise the smallest millimeter of information that she wants and separate it from all the fluff that surrounds the rest of what’s in front of her.

  I should know because she learned the skill from the best—me. While I doubt I would have made a very happy surgeon, simply because I don’t honestly like the idea of blood and cutting people up, I put my mind to work in other ways, and my daughter has followed in my footsteps.

  So, it’s no surprise when she drops her mess of half a burger back to the wrapper. “Dad.”

  “Something you’d like to discuss? If so, we could’ve done that just as easily in my office,” I point out. “Better air conditioning.”

  “Yeah,” Elle says, “except there, you’d try to make me drink those nasty, dirt-tasting smoothies you claim to like, and we’d be interrupted every five minutes with something ‘urgent’.” She rolls her eyes when I shrug in agreement with her. She knows the way I work better than anyone.

  “I can’t help it that I’m busy and people need me.” I don’t bother fighting her on the green smoothies I actually do enjoy because we’re way past the phase of me making sure she gets her fruits and veggies every day. And in my opinion, the smoothies are better than a plate of green beans.

  “Dad, you’re a workaholic with micromanagement issues,” Elle says with the candor that only she can get away with. “Colton was the same. Was being the operative word there. I think it’s fair to say that half the things you sign could be rubber-stamped by Vanessa without your ever laying eyes on them.”

  I make a stabbing motion at my chest, right over my heart, mainly because she’s right. “You wound me.” Elle flashes a fake smile at my dramatics. “But I’m guessing my work hours are not what you want to talk about?”

  “Oh, we’ll get to that. Mainly, I wanted to tell you that I know we talked about this before, but actually seeing you and Tiffany together last night was an eye-opener to me. It’s different when it’s words in a conversation versus what I see with my own eyes.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” I say carefully.

  Even as I ask, I’m not sure I want the answer. I have done everything, willingly and happily, with my daughter’s best interests in mind. But my relationship with Tiffany is different. If, after seeing us together, Elle says that she’s not okay with it, I’m not sure I’ll be able to put her feelings first this time. For the first time in a long time, I might need to put myself first—my needs, my wants, my happiness.

  Elle considers her words carefully. “Not gonna lie. Weird, but . . .” The pause stops my heart in my chest. “But good.”

  I breathe once again. “Really?”

  Elle picks up her burger again, taking a big bite to give herself time to put her thoughts into words. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. I thought I knew what would be best for you, but obviously, I was wrong. And you know I don’t say that lightly.” She looks over her left shoulder, then her right like someone might’ve heard her say that and noted the date and time she admitted to being wrong. “I knew Tiff was serious about liking you all these years, but I didn’t think . . . look, if I’d have known your perfect match was Tiffany, I would’ve locked the two of you in an elevator a long time ago and taken credit for the whole thing.”

  I laugh because I can totally see Elle yanking a circuit breaker and then standing guard outside the box, fending off the repair crew with a crowbar.

  “No doubt. Elle, I want you to know I have been happy being your dad. I wouldn’t change anything about that or the years we’ve had together, just the two of us against the world.”

  “And sometimes against each other,” she adds with a grin that reminds me of her rebellious teen years when she thought I was unreasonably strict and I worried she was going to end up in a ditch somewhere in Mexico if I didn’t track and control her every move.

  “But this is different. I’m happy in a different way, for the first time in a long time.”

  Elle leans forward, planting her elbows on the table and her hands going to her chin. Her eyes are sparkly with happiness as she looks at me openly. “I’m so glad, Dad. That’s all I ever wanted.”

  “So we’re good?”

  “You buy me a milkshake to go with this burger, and we’re better than good,” Elle says with her normal sassiness. “We’re great. But I’m still not calling her Mom.”

  I laugh. “Let’s not get carried away. It’s too soon for that.”

  Elle scoffs. “Yeah, right, Dad. You have no idea the magic Tiffany can work. She’s bewitching and will have you down on one knee before you know it. Already, I can see that look on your face.”

  Before I can argue that there’s no look on my face and I don’t know what she’s talking about, she keeps going . . .

  “Or else look me in the eyes and cross your heart swear that with all this talk about Ace and Harper’s wedding, you haven’t once wondered how Tiffany would look in a wedding dress.”

  Heat flushes my neck, and I swallow the lump of black bean burger in my mouth. “Well, I am now.”

  Like a sniper, my daughter zeroes in on her target. Me.

  “Or imagined her naked with nothing but your ring on?”

  I sit up straighter, my brow arching sharply. “I am not discussing my sex life with my daughter.”

  The declaration allows for no argument. So, of course, she argues.

  “Yeah, you’ll have to get over that. Tiffany and I talk about everything. If I have to listen to her waxing poetic about my dad, then you can have a real conversation with me. It’s bound to be less awkward than your first attempt at the birds and bees talk when I was a kid. I thought you were trying to surprise me with a trip to the zoo, for fuck’s sake. God, that was horrible. I’m still scarred, not to mention triggered by the smell of honey.”

  She’s got a flair for the dramatic, but she makes a fair point. I still don’t concede.

  “When you’re just having sex, you think of sex and getting off. When you’re really in it for keeps . . . your mind goes other places too.”

  “Ah. And when did you start thinking of Colton in a tuxedo? Or nothing but a ring, and not just . . . a recipient of your Xerox adventures?” It’s a lame attempt at turning the tables on her, and I stutter over the copy machine thing again, pretty sure that I do not want to know the truth about that one.

  Elle groans at the silly joke. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

  “Depends on how many copies are out there and how many people I need to kill for seeing them,” I say seriously.

  She rolls her eyes and huffs, “I do not know what Tiffany sees in you.”

  The wedding hall is small, but that’s just about right. Everyone’s sitting close together, not quite packed like sardines in a can, but if Ace and Harper had booked a big church, I think we would have rattled around inside.

  “The arch is a nice touch,” I whisper to Colton as we sit on the groom’s side of the hall. “Really good work.”

  “Agreed,” he whispers back. On the other side of him, Elle is sitting with Neve, who looks around with huge eyes at the whole ceremony. “Makes the room look brighter.”

  “Very true.”

  Why are we making ridiculous small talk about the altar? I have no idea. I’m mostly just ready to get this show on the road.

  The music starts, and everyone looks toward the back of the hall. I’m sure everyone else is anticipating the bride walking down the aisle, but not me. I’m looking for a bridesmaid.

  Tiffany appears at the back of the hall, carefully stepping down the aisle with her eyes fixed straight ahead. She looks beautiful—her dark hair half up, with soft curls escaping to frame her face, a pale bronze dress skimming over her curves to drip down to the floor, and a polite smile on her lips.

  She’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and I’m reminded of lunch with Elle. She’s right.

  To myself, I admit . . . part of me already wants to see Tiffany dressed in white, the star of this show, walking down the aisle to join me.

  Tiffany must read my mind because as she approaches the row where we’re sitting, her eyes flick to mine and her smile relaxes, becoming more authentic. She passes by me, and I must make some sort of move because Colton puts his hand on my arm, restraining me so I stay in my seat.

  I want to hold her, kiss her hello after the long hours apart while she finished last-minute duties for the wedding. I understand and agreed that helping Harper was important, but my arms have been empty for two nights.

  Unexpectedly, a basset hound appears with a basket in his mouth. He struts down the aisle like he’s the star, shaking his head as he goes, throwing flower petals and drool everywhere. He’s probably the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen, but the display is downright adorable and delights Neve, who points and whispers loudly, “’ook! Boggy!”

  Elle shushes her but is fighting a laugh of her own. It is funny, especially Neve’s little girl words, and my smile grows even more when the dog goes and sits by Ace’s side, obviously well-trained.

  The man knows his stuff.

  The music changes, and we all stand. Harper walks down the aisle, and all but two sets of eyes are on the back of the church. Neve’s eyes are on the dog, making me suspect that there’s a puppy in her future. Meanwhile, I can’t take my eyes off Tiffany.

  Harper joins Ace, and we sit, but I do so mindlessly, all my attention on Tiffany. Seeing her in front of the altar, bouquet in her hands while the officiant talks about love cracks something deep inside me. I told Elle just yesterday that it is too soon for Tiffany and me to be talking about marriage. But suddenly, all I want to do is whip my phone out and start shopping for a ring.

  I’m not a young man with fanciful ideas of easy love. I understand that love alone is not enough to make a relationship everlasting. It’s merely the foundation you build upon.

  It takes dedication, romance, and choosing each other every day. Most of all, it takes work. Hard fucking work. That’s where things went wrong with my ex-wife. We got lazy, both of us checking out of the day-to-day effort of being together. Me for work, and her for . . . other things.

  But it wasn’t enough for either of us. I learned from that, not attempting a deep relationship while Elle and work were my priorities. But now, I’m motivated to give more, to give everything . . . to Tiffany. Because she gives me something in return that I thought I’d lost forever.

  Joy.

  Hope.

  Passion.

  And most of all, her whole heart.

  Harper and Ace exchange vows, but as they slip rings onto each other’s fingers, I look to Tiffany, and her eyes lock onto me. Silently, I mouth, “I love you.”

  She smiles softly and mouths it back.

  As the recessional passes by, Neve gets away from Elle and makes a beeline for the flower dog. I’m closest, so I call off Elle with a staying hand and try to catch Neve without interrupting the whole party’s exit. But she’s a sneaky thing, just like her mother, and she manages to reach the dog before I get to her.

  “Hi, boggie!” Her high-pitched voice of excitement as she sinks to the ground in front of the dog elicits a giggle from the small audience. Ace and Harper stop, and it’s actually Tiffany who saves the day, kneeling down next to Neve and taking the leash from her brother.

  “His name’s Kevin,” Tiffany whispers. “You want to walk him?”

  Tiffany might as well have offered the chance to be a fairytale princess to the girl, whose eyes go huge as she nods quickly. “Yes!” That word was clear as a bell and loud. Very loud.

  Tiffany quickly loops the leash through her wrist before offering a middle grip to Neve, who holds on with much ceremony as she joins the retreating party, owning the scene like everyone’s there to see her.

  “I believe she takes after her father,” I quip, making Elle laugh.

  “More like her mother,” Colton says. “But that’s what makes her so . . . fetching.”

  Tiffany’s at the back of the hall now, and just as she disappears through the door, she looks back and finds me with her eyes.

  I swear she’s saying she’s thinking the same thoughts I am.

  Next time, it’s going to be us.

  “You . . . are gorgeous,” I finally manage to tell Tiffany as I hold her chair out for her to sit. “I am stunned.”

  Tiffany blushes lightly and looks over her shoulder at me. “Thank you. Not so bad yourself.”

  She reaches up to pull at my tie, the intimate move both comfortable and exciting. We’re in front of friends, in front of Harper’s family. But there’s no hesitation in my heart as I lean down and kiss her sweetly, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her perfume and feeling the warmth of her lips shoot straight to my heart.