Page 66 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
Now though…
There was no use in keeping secrets.
I sucked in a deep breath, looked my daughter right in the eye, and said, “So, I think I’m in love with Willow.”
“Caven,” Willow hissed, but I didn’t tear my eyes off my Rosie Posie.
Her face remained blank. “Is that why she was sleeping in your bed?”
“Yes.”
“So, you got married?”
I laughed. “No. For now, she’s just my girlfriend.”
“Like me and Jacob.”
“No,” I stated firmly. “You are not old enough to have a boyfriend. Much less a love expert like Jacob.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you kiss her?”
“Yep.”
“Caven,” Willow scolded.
“On the mouth?”
Among other places. “Yes.”
She shrugged. “So just like me and Jacob.”
I rolled my eyes. That was a battle for another day, perhaps when I had her boyfriend in a cargo container headed to Antarctica. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just like you and Jacob. Is that okay with you? Me and Willow being together.”
“Are you going to get married?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Eventually, some day.”
“Caven,” Willow breathed, but it was breathy and no longer scolding.
“Will she live here forever?”
“When we get married. Yeah.”
“Can she sleep on my tremble?”
“No.”
She crinkled her nose adorably. “Sometimes? Please.”
I rested my hand on her jaw and grazed my thumb back and forth across her cheek. “Okay, fine. Sometimes she can sleep on your trundle. Will that make it okay for her to be Daddy’s girlfriend?”
“Sure,” she chirped with a white and crooked grin. “Wait, if you get married and Willow has a baby, will it come out of her butt?”
I grinned and swung my gaze to my new girlfriend, who was standing on the other side of the counter, sporting a look that fell somewhere in the middle of adoration, amusement, and horror. I waited for her to answer, but she lifted her hands in surrender and turned back to making pancakes.
Chuckling, I partitioned my mouth off and leaned in close to whisper, “God, I hope not.”
Rosalee mirrored my position and replied, “Me too. That would be so gross.”
“So, so gross.”
She smiled.
I smiled.
Willow continued to shake her head.
But I felt like I was on top of the world.
And just like that, telling my daughter that Willow and I were dating was done. With as much as she loved her, I hadn’t been expecting much push back. Though I probably had Jacob to thank for prepping her for some of that. And for that reason alone, I’d considering mailing him to somewhere in the Caribbean instead of Antarctica.
With my hands under her arms, I lifted her off the stool, stealing a quick hug and kiss before setting her on her feet. “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll help Willow finish cooking.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Maybe?”
She bounced on her toes. “Can I wear a dress?”
I scoffed. “Uh… Absolutely. I insist.”
She giggled and then she was gone, sprinting up the stairs.
“Hold on to the rail!” Willow called after her.
And I’ll be damned if I didn’t fall in love all over again.
“Hey,” I murmured into the back of her hair as I wrapped my arms around her from behind.
She clicked the burner off before turning in my grasp. “I can’t believe that’s how you told her. I had this entire elaborate story, step-by-step what to expect when you find a woman sleeping in your dad’s bed ready to go.”
“Then why’d you wait on me to tell her?”
“Because she’s your daughter.”
I grinned and pecked her lips. I loved that she’d waited. I loved that she had always been careful about boundaries and keeping Rosalee’s best interest in mind. Mainly, I just loved her. “Well, I appreciate that. And to show my eternal gratitude, why don’t I take my beautiful ladies out to brunch. Alejandra is coming over to keep her while we meet the police at your house, but after that, there’s this amazing place in the city that has mimosas for you and ice sculptures that Rosalee loves.”
“That’s probably a good idea. She’s not going to eat these. I tried to sneak carrots and oats into the pancakes, but I think she caught me.”
I curled my lip. “Dear God, why would you do that?”
She glared up at me. “It’s healthy. Vegetables are good.”
“Yes. But this is pancakes. They aren’t supposed to be healthy. Literally, it has the word cake in the name.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
The buzz at the gate interrupted her. It was nine a.m. on a Sunday; no one should have been standing at my gate. Even Ian knew better than that. “Go get dressed, I’ll get rid of whoever that is, and we can meet back down here in twenty, yeah?”
“It might be Beth. She probably heard you mention the words brunch and mimosas and teleported herself over here by sheer force of will.”
I chuckled. “She allows me to invest in her discovery of teleportation and she’s more than invited to join us for brunch.”
