Page 68 of Face Off With Fate

I shook my head, but I couldn’t decide if it was at how ridiculous she was or how ridiculous I was for saving the photo on my phone.

I should delete it, and the other one…

The doorbell chimed, making me jump and turn off the screen, before panic-shoving it back in my pocket. Warmth heated my cheeks as the sound of bells rang through the house. It was original to the home and, secretly, one of my favorite things about this place, but I could barely hear it over the blood pounding in my ears.

“I’ll get it,” Goldie yelled, her bare feet smacking the wood floor loud enough to hear from the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare⁠—”

“Hey, Golden Girl,” Graciella’s voice cut me off before I could finish. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be opening the front door.”

The hum of the hood vent swallowed whatever Goldie said.

“Wow. A man who actually knows how to cook? Let’s release this tidbit to the press.”

She walked into the living room with Goldie perched on her hip, my daughter’s head resting on her shoulder. Golden strands spilled over Graciella’s tanned skin. I froze at the sight, wanting to add another photo like the ones burning a hole in my pocket.

“That smells amazing,” she said, eyes locked on the stove. “But isn’t it a little late to be cooking?”

“He’s making buzzghetti for you,” Goldie answered for me, arms tight around Graciella’s neck, fingers pulling at the ends of her hair.

“For me?”

She held my daughter as if this were normal for her, and it short-circuited my brain.

“You can put her down,” I blurted, both heads snapping toward me like I’d grown a second one. “She’s…uh…heavy.”

Graciella rolled her eyes. “I might not be my prima, but I can handle holding Goldie. Isn’t that right?” She spun Goldie in a circle, their laughter ricocheting off the walls and slamming into my chest like a physical blow.

“Again! Again!” Goldie shrieked with every rotation.

“Okay, you two. That’s enough.” I checked the meant I was browning, realizing I’d stared long enough to cross officially into weird territory. “Dinner’s almost ready. Goldie, go wash your hands.”

“But Dad—” she whined as Graciella set her down, steadying her until she was solid on her feet.

I gave Goldie a look, and she rolled her eyes, stomping toward the hall bathroom.

“Don’t forget soap,” I yelled. “Letting the water touch your hands isn’t washing them.”

I sensed her before I saw her, not daring to remove my eyes from the pot of water I was also bringing to a boil. A lot of good it did. From the corner of my eye, I caught two bare legs dangling off my counters. Bare feet sparkled with gold rings.

Fuck. It felt too intimate. Too normal.

“You know, it doesn’t actually boil any faster just because you glare at the water like it kicked your dog.”

I gave in and looked over. “I don’t have a dog.”

Graciella rolled her eyes. “I’ve never had a man cook for me before. I’m kind of enjoying this.”

Something thumped in my chest. I liked that I was the first. I wanted to be the best.

I want to be the only…

Goldie’s shout was a godsend, keeping me from that slippery slope.

“Gracie, look,” her little voice competed with the loud clacking sound of her plastic heels from somewhere down the hall.

“What is it, Golds?” she yelled.