Page 61 of Falling for the Single Daddy

One Month Later

I walk among the partygoers, doing my best to smile and ‘people-please.’ Socializing is a decent-sized portion of my job, and although a plaza isn’t exactly the greatest achievement in an architect’s world—hence the speedy completion time—I’m still proud of my work. The modern art pieces I selected have been a hit, and everybody is complimenting me.

The problem? Lately, I just want to be with my girls. Gone are the days of burying my head in my work as though I’m outrunning something, stubbornly remaining in the office as though that will answer the questioning demons inside. Lately, I just want to be with Callie and Emery.

Emery darts into my path as though reading my mind. She’s wearing a pretty dress, her hair in pigtails. Lately, she’s adamant she wants to be a, in her words,fashion god. But last week, she was going to be an astronaut. As long as she’s happy, I’ll consider myself a success.

“Daddy,” she says. “Callie-kin asked me to give you something. She said it’svery important.”

I smile at the term of endearment,Callie-kin. Emery heard Callie’s friend, Katerina, call her it a couple of weeks ago, and it stuck. Emery reaches into her pocket and hands me a small pink envelope.

“Where is Callie-kin?” I ask.

“Sneaking.” Emery giggles. “Watching. She wants to see your…” Emery thinks for a moment. “Reaction.”

I smile, opening the envelope. There’s a small note and an object inside. I read the note first.Do you think Emery would prefer a little brother or a little sister?

A gasp escapes me as I tip the object into my hand. Wrapped in plastic for obvious reasons, it’s a pregnancy test. Positive. A smiley face. I spin in a circle, my heart pounding, happiness expanding inside me. Hiding behind a metal statue of a woman, I spot my Callie, a big grin on her face.

I walk quickly across the plaza, Emery at my side. Callie makes squeaks as I sweep her into my arms, kissing her deeply.

“What is it, Callie? Daddy?”

Callie places her fingers on my lips. She gives me a look, then takes the envelope from my hand and reaches inside, taking out a small voucher. “It’s a book voucher for you, Emery.”

Emery beams, clutching it to her chest. “Yippee! Can we pick some out soon?”

“We sure can.”

As Emery looks at the voucher, Callie whispers in my ear, “I wanted to make it special. But maybe we should wait until we tell her.”

I kiss her on the cheek, wrapping my arm around her waist, pulling her close to me. “You always think of everything, Callie. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Epilogue

Callie

Eight Years Later

I stand at the rear window, watching as Emery pushes Mona on the swing. Mona giggles and throws her hands up. She looks so similar to Emery at that age but with touches of me and hints of Mom and Dad.

Behind me, Mom and Sloane talk about the recent Met Gala. Sometimes, in this magical life of ours, I feel like I have to pinch myself. It took some time, but Josh Taylor’s day finally came. After one too many crimes committed, his cult was disbanded, and he was sent to jail, where he will hopefully spend the rest of his life. Mom is free of that place, that evil man is in prison—I won’t even say his name anymore—and Sloane, free from her addiction, is on a journey of seeking forgiveness and dedicating herself to doing good in the world. They sit at the kitchen table of my family home, casually talking.

Mom stops when she sees me looking. “Is everything okay, Callie?”

“Pregnancy hormones,” I say, wiping my cheek. “And, well, just—look at us, look at this life. It’s amazing. It’s a miracle.”

“You’rethe miracle,” Gray says, walking in with Wes and Dad.

“How was the game?” I ask, taking my husband’s hand. He’s only grown more handsome as the years have passed, his hair deepening to an even more beautiful silver.

“Your dad’s team won,” Wes grumbles, picking up an apple and munching on it.

“As usual,” Dad quips, winking at me.

“How are the munchkins?” Gray asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and looking out the window.

I turn with him, his hand on my waist. We don’t have to worry about any awkwardness with Sloane. All that nasty stuff is so long ago that it feels like ancient history. It’s worked its way into the tapestry of our lives, becoming a distant event, then an anecdote, and finally, a footnote, an afterthought.

“Emery’s being the best sister ever, as usual,” I say, hearing Mona’s carefree laugh. Emery is growing into a tall, pretty young lady, her hair deepening to a darker color, her eyes never losing their precocious shine.

She sees us looking and clasps her hands to her chest, then points at Mona.

“We’re so blessed,” I whisper.

“The most blessed,” Gray agrees, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek.

THE END