Page 93 of Promise Me This
I swallow, trying to look unimpressed and failing miserably.
Laiken’s gaze drifts over my face, as if he can read every thought I’m trying to hide, and his slow smile turns knowing.
“Oh, Kitten,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “That look in your eyes is enough to undo me.”
His thumb strokes my hip. “I have the feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun exploring this side of you.”
Before I’m able to come up with a smart comeback, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me back to the bedroom. I curl against him, smiling as my body vibrates with anticipation, because I have the sneaking suspicion he might be right about that.
38
Laiken
The elevator chimes, and even before the doors finish opening, Elody’s boisterous voice carries down the hall.
“Bye, Mimi and Pop-Pop!”
My ex-in-laws say goodbye to their granddaughter, then nod at me before stepping back inside the car.
The doors slide shut, and a second later, feet pound across the wood.
“Daddy!”
The word hits me square in the chest the way it always does. No matter how many times I hear it, it never loses its significance. And it’s doubtful that will ever change.
The penthouse always feels full of life when my daughter is here. It’s louder, brighter, full of movement and questions. Toys migrate from room to room. Crumbs appear where I swear there were none five minutes ago. There’s laughter, singing, and a steady stream of why and what if and watch this, Daddy.
It’s hard to remember a time when my little girl wasn’t the focal point of my life.
I step forward and catch her small body as she barrels into me, backpack bouncing against her shoulders. She collides with my legs, arms locking around my waist before hugging me.
“Hey, bug,” I murmur, bending to brush a kiss against the top of her head. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes!” She pulls back just enough to grin up at me. “Mimi let me pick out the cereal, and Pop-Pop made the eggs wrong, but I ate them anyway because I’m polite.”
I huff out a quiet laugh and run a hand over her hair. “I’m sure he appreciated that.”
By the time Elody drops her backpack and takes off running, Kia is already lowering herself, like she knew exactly what was coming. Sure enough, Elody launches straight into her arms. Kia catches her without hesitation, hugging her close as my little girl clings to her like she’s been waiting all day for this moment.
I’ve watched people with my daughter. Babysitters with too wide of smiles. Friends who meant well but never quite knew how to connect. Even Sarah, back when she still bothered to pretend. But Elody has never warmed to someone like this or clung with her whole being. It’s as if she already trusts Kia to be there for her.
When Kia presses a kiss against Elody’s hair, thick emotion swells in my throat, and it takes a moment to get myself under control. This is what I’ve always wanted. Someone loving my little girl as much as I do.
Elody pulls back, her face turning serious. “Can I call you Mommy now?”
My throat tightens as emotion rises so swiftly, it’s almost difficult to choke back. I blink hard, but my vision blurs anyway, because I understand what that question means. Elody isn’t asking out of innocence. She’s asking because she wants it and feels safe enough to claim it.
Kia doesn’t flinch or look to me for guidance. She simply cups Elody’s cheek and holds her gaze. “Of course you can, sweetie.”
I’ve spent so long trying to protect my little girl, trying to give her stability and make sure she never feels abandoned again.
That’s when I realize Kia isn’t just stepping into our lives, she’s choosing us.
Elody beams, pure joy lighting up her face, before nestling against Kia’s stomach.
I freeze with the realization that this baby will be her sibling. I always wanted more kids. I wanted the noise and mess and too many shoes by the door. I wanted dinner conversations that overlapped and birthdays that felt like events instead of just another ordinary day. After Sarah left, I buried that longing and told myself that what I had was enough.
Wanting more felt ungrateful, and longing for a life I couldn’t have felt like tearing open a wound that never fully healed. So I packed the grief away and tried to forget about it.
