Page 141 of Against The Tide

“And?”

“And it matters.”

“Exactly. So talk to me, champ.”

After a moment of waiting for her say something, she finally caves, looking down at her lap as she tells me, “I’m on my own now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rose and Poppy have the same name as you, and now Mom is going to have it too, so I’m on my own.”

Oh God, this girl is something else. I knew from the moment I met her that she was special. Iris is so much like Avery it’s insane.

“You’re never on your own, and you know that regardless of whether or not we have the same name, you’re mine. Just like your mom and those two nightmares over there.” I nod at the twins, and as she’s done from the day they were born, she reaches over and strokes each of their cheeks with the back of her finger. “A name doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a word like any other.”

“It’s not, though. You’re all going to be a family, and I’m…I’m me. I’m not a Reynolds like the rest of you. I don’t even have a dad.”

“Okay, time out,” I tell her, getting up from my seat and taking her up with me. “Come on.” I grab her hand as Avery walks into the kitchen. The concerned expression on her face tells me she’s heard the conversation we were having, and when I press a kiss to her forehead in passing, she hands me the envelope we prepared last night.

“Where are we going? We’re not even wearing shoes!” Iris groans as we walk through the house and out of the front door.

We only moved in five months ago, and there are still cardboard boxes stacked in one corner of the dining room off the hallway. We were really beginning to struggle in the bungalow, but we wanted to wait until the house we redesigned for the plot I bought off Jo was ready.

It’s our own mini ranch with a chicken coop out to the side and a barn-type garage where we keep our surfboards and hang our suits to dry. We walk past the cars to the small pond Iris asked for so we could keep ducks like Jo.

“Sit with me,” I tell her, putting my feet in the water and waiting until she does the same. “Look around.”

Kicking her feet around in the water, she does as I told her until she finds my gaze again.

“What do you see?” When she shrugs, I point at the barn and ask, “What’s in there?”

“My surfboard.” She smiles.

“And who taught you to surf?”

Fresh tears line her eyes as she replies, “You.”

“Who’s going to teach your sisters?”

“You.”

“And what about over there?” I point to the field separating our home from Jo’s ranch. “What’s over there?”

“Dodo,” she chuckles with a roll of her eyes, mimicking her sisters.

“Is her name Reynolds?”

“No.”

“But she’s family, right? For all intents and purposes, she’s a nanna to you like Nora, right?”

“Yes.”

“What else is over there?”

“The horses.” She smiles wide again.

“Who taught you to ride?”