Page 89 of The Dating Charade

Cassie lifted her hand, a look of recognition dawning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dakota.”

“And Drew. Her twin brother.” Jett tugged on Drew’s arm, and Drew paused long enough to give a toothy smile.

Jett turned the stroller by degrees. “And this here is Timothy. Their little brother.” He paused significantly. “And they’re the children of whom I have legal custody.”

Cassie paused as she bent over the stroller. She stood upright slowly. “In your custody, you said?”

He nodded. It wasn’t easy to make that motion. For Trina, whom he and the kids had visited in the hospital every day since Dakota had been released, it wasn’t easy. In the hours they had sat beside her, trying to comfort her—their mother. Through the grief of facing broken bones and charges of vehicular homicide for the death of an innocent forty-one-year-old man, it sure wasn’t easy.

“Three kids.”

Jett nodded again.

And Cassie’s smile broke out like the rainbow after the flood. She looked down at all three. “Well, I must say I’m very, very happy to make your acquaintances.”

She shook each of their hands, even the youngest, who continued staring at his button.

“May I?” she said, pausing with both hands on little Timothy’s sides.

He paused, his tone holding the steadiness of the deeper question. “If you want to.”

Nobody could’ve nodded faster than she had. “I do, Jett. More than you know.”

She cupped Timothy’s legs beneath the crook of her elbow, pressing his small body to her. “Is he hurt anywhere?” she asked, touching his back lightly.

“You heard?”

Out of the corner of his eye Jett saw Donna Gene and Edie gliding by, holding on to the arms of two elderly gentlemen. Edie lifted her maroon-feathered hat and waved.

“More than heard. I was just a few cars back.”

Jett nodded solemnly. Even mention of that incident brought storm clouds overhead. “The boys had a few cuts. Dakota here gave us a scare for a few days but—” His voice sounded unsteady. He cleared his throat. “Forensics called it a true miracle. For her to come out with a neck fracture as minor as it is. For the roof not to have been crushed completely right away. Well, I was in that car, I know what an inch lower would’ve meant.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around her dress, hating even the memory of that awful day. For five days he’d sat in the intensive care unit of Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital in Nashville, watching Dakota breathe. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. His life had been turned upside down the moment he heard the description of the accident over the radio, taking the stack of priorities in his life and throwing them in the air, over and over and over again, until they came down newly ordered and filed. And one of the top things on the list was being here. Now.

He bent down and whispered in Drew’s ear. Drew, with several gleeful, Tigger-like bounces, hopped for the covered pool table full of candy jars.

A couple of girls followed him.

Jett resumed. “She was quite the snuggler before, weren’t you, Dakota? But now I have a feeling I’m going to be wearing one of those kid carriers for the next eight weeks. Between Timothy and Dakota, I’ll never see my arms again.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Cassie turned her head toward Bree and the others and gave them a look that screamed Beat it.

Bree just stood there, however, taking a long, slow sip of Cassie’s tea, grinning like she’d landed the best front-row seat in the house.

Ignoring her, Cassie slid a heel his way. “You’d look pretty dashing in one of those twin carriers that straps one kid to the front and one to the back. Would make you a real winner with the ladies.”

His brows rose, interest sparking his eyes. “Is that so? And here I was wasting my energy on pull-ups.”

“Well, nobody’s saying you should quit that.” With Timothy pressed closely to her side, Cassie’s free hand drifted upward and grabbed his tie.

He grinned as she began to tug him down to her level, his smile dropping slightly as his focus moved to her lips.

But just as his face was an inch from hers, the flapping, tooting music of the jazz era stopped, replaced by an obnoxious ringing coming over the speakers and throughout the room. Everyone stopped dancing.

Cassie lifted her voice, her eyes still steady on his. “Cancel it, Caden. Press the red button.”

The teen nodded and pressed the button, the beat of “Blue Suede Shoes” erupting once again through the room.