by Nia Arthurs
“So does that mean we’ll all get ice cream?” Glory squeals, sitting straight up in my arms.
“Yes, it does, pumpkin.” I kiss her temple again.
Brenna pulls her lips in and glances away. I wonder what that expression means, but I don’t have time to ponder it. Glory demands my full attention as she chatters on about Miss B, empresses, and storybooks. My fingers work deftly as I strap her in the backseat and make sure she’s secure before turning around.
Brenna is still standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.
I open the front door for her. “Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you the keys like last time?”
“Funny.” The little wrinkles between her eyebrows soften just a bit. She strides toward me.
The breeze lifts her hair away from her shoulders.
The sun sparkles in her eyes.
My heart does that funny thing again. Like a ball dropping all the way down before bouncing back up.
I’m not in the right place to inspect that feeling.
And Brenna is definitely not the right woman.
She’s standing in the way of the farmhouse, Heath.
Yeah.
I know that.
But when she stops directly in front of me and the door.
When she’s close enough that I can inhale her scent—something light and floral.
When she sticks her tongue out to swipe her bottom lip, I—
I can’t find the energy to care.
“Glory and I really did meet by coincidence,” Brenna whispers, gravity in her words and in her eyes.
I tilt my head, studying her exquisite face. “That really means a lot to you, doesn’t it? To not be misunderstood?”
Her teeth snag on her bottom lip again.
Busted.
I slip my fingers beneath her chin and lift her head so she’s looking at me. Softly, I caress her jaw. “I understand, Brenna. It’s okay.”
Her eyelashes flutter.
A soft breath gets caught in her throat.
I can see her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck.
The air thickens around us.
This woman.
There’s something about her…
“Daddy, let’s go!” Glory gestures wildly. “Miss B, the ice cream will melt.”
The moment shatters.
I smile and step away from Brenna.
She reaches out and steadies herself against the side of the car.
Woman, I haven’t even started to take your breath away.
My grin grows as I jog around to the driver’s side and get in.
“Daddy,” Glory says as we take off, “Miss B is coming to my birthday party.”
“Oh, is she?” I glance at Brenna.
Glory grins so broadly I’m afraid she’s going to split her cheeks. “Miss B helped me find books on empresses. They’re like princesses but cooler.”
“Wow.” I nod.
“Miss B says that our history is important to learn so we…” She pauses. “What did you say about that?”
“So we know where we come from and where we’re going,” Brenna mumbles, trying to hide her smile by pulling her lips in. “It’s also important so we don’t make the same mistakes.”
“I see what this is.” I narrow my eyes playfully. “Your master plan is to use my daughter against me.”
“Is it working?”
I shake my head. “You’re not even bothering to deny it.”
“At least it’s more effective than throwing money in someone’s face.”
“Ouch.” I laugh. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I might as well embrace it. Two scoops of ice cream in exchange for the farmhouse.”
“What a generous offer, Heath.” She laughs.
My heart bucks.
That’s the first time she’s said my name so gently.
I need to hear her say it again.
Just like that.
Brenna notices my expression. “What?”
“Nothing.” I quickly look away before she reads everything I’m feeling.
Unable to contain her excitement, Glory starts singing. She sounds like a cat getting dragged through a barrel of water.
I love my baby girl but…
Maybe she’ll grow into her voice.
There’s hope.
I clear my throat and talk above her wails. “I’m thinking of signing her up to one of those huge talent shows. Make her the next big thing.”
Brenna laughs softly. “Yeah. I can see why that would…” she chokes, “that would work.”
We exchange smiles.
I tap my thumb on the steering wheel and start to sing the ladybug theme song with Glory. Brenna bops her head like we’re not both bleeding from the ears and pretends to enjoy my daughter’s performance.
I watch her with a grin, my heart warmer than a flame on a cold night.
Damn.
It’s still too complicated.
Too messy.
Too untouchable.
But in this moment, it feels just right.
Twelve
Brenna
“Favorite ice cream flavor?” I ask Glory as Heath helps her out of the backseat.
“Chocolate chip.” To my surprise, she takes my hand while clasping tightly to her father’s. “What do you like?”
“Uh…” My mind goes blank.
This little hand feels so right in mine. Tiny brown fingers. Beaming brown eyes.
I adjust our fingers so I’m holding Glory’s hand comfortably.
It shouldn’t feel this sweet, right?
This is…
I shouldn’t be attached to a child this quickly?
It’s not normal.
Or simple.
Because Glory’s father is the enemy.
I’m coming after his work.
And he’s coming after mine.
This is insane.
Everything.
This moment.
The farmhouse case follows us like a shadow. I shouldn’t be here, consorting with the man who’s standing in my way.
I should have said no.
But who can even think of that word when they’re staring into Glory’s big brown eyes?
It’s just ice cream, Brenna. Relax.
Easier said than done. How can I not overthink things when Heath looks at me like I’m his favorite ice cream?
Those green eyes are magic.
I swear my heart jumps every time they land on me.
And whenever he dotes on Glory—
He’s the enemy. He’s the enemy.
But the reminder feels hollow as we walk up the street, connected by a sweet little girl who loves ladybugs and lady warriors.
“Miss B.” Glory swings my hands to get my attention.
“Oh, me?” I clear my throat. “I’m a chocolate fan.”
“Only chocolate?” Heath asks.
“Yup.”
“No toppings?”
“Nope.” I shake my head.
“Swirls?” Glory asks.
“No. Just chocolate. I like things simple.” I meet Heath’s eyes. “I don’t like complicated.”
“But those are the most fun.” He flashes me a handsome grin.
Warmth hits my cheeks.
He’s toying with me on purpose.
Screw him.
And those green eyes.
And that jawline carved from rock.
“Trying new things is for people willing to accept disappointment,” I say.
Heath arches an eyebrow. “But if you try something new, you might find you like that flavor better.”
“It’s more likely the opposite. You’ll discover it’s not all that and you’ll be left with regret, wishing you’d just stuck to what you knew.”
“It’s worth taking that chance.”
“It’s too much of a risk.”
“Everything worth having is. You never know until you try
.”
Glory quirks an eyebrow. “I want to try everything!”
Heath scrunches his nose. “Not till you’re eighteen.”
She gives him a confused look.
I burst out laughing.
Glory starts laughing too although she has no idea what the joke is.
I squeeze her fingers, struggling to rein back the chuckles that are still trapped in my chest. Wiggling a finger at Heath, I shake my head. “You’re going to go crazy when she starts dating.”
“No, I won’t. Because she’s never dating.” He shrugs.
The ice cream store comes into sight.
I face Heath. “Let me guess? Your choice of weapon is a shotgun?”
“Machete. It feels more personal.”
I laugh again.
Heath joins me, but then stops suddenly.
I glance forward to see what has him so on edge and recognize a slim woman with a blunt bob and a firm expression standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She’s wearing a fancy pantsuit that fits her like a glove and the air of importance around her draws every pedestrian’s eye.
Amelia Jameson.
We’ve met before—when she kicked me out of my building to get back at Kaelyn—but even if I hadn’t, she’s easily recognizable. The Jamesons’ reality show has been on air for over a decade and is still one of the most watched programs in the world.
Thanks to her makeup, perfume and clothing line, Amelia has graced the cover of hundreds of magazines.
She’s a big deal.
I can’t stand her, but I’m not blind.
“Heath, I need to talk to you,” Amelia says.
Heath’s eyes narrow.
“Daddy?” Glory looks up at him with a tremble in her voice.
Heath forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Honey, why don’t you go in and order something for me? I’ll be right there.”
“But why?” Glory asks.
His eyes move to mine can you help me?
I try to sound as cheerful as possible. “You know what, Glory? I think I’d like to try something new today. Help me pick out a flavor?”
“Okay,” she says, too perceptive to buy my schtick, but too naive to question it.
With a subtle nod at Heath, I take Glory into the ice cream shop. Thankfully, she seems to return to her usual self once her eyes land on the different flavors.
As promised, Glory helps me pick out a totally ridiculous concoction that I would never have the guts to try on my own and we go to a table to eat.
Her eyes slide toward the window. I made sure to pick a table where she wouldn’t be able to observe Amelia and Heath easily, so there’s not much to see out there.
“Daddy must still be talking to that woman.”
“Probably,” I say.
Given Glory is referring to Heath’s mother as ‘that woman’, I’m assuming he hasn’t told her about or introduced her to the wealthy and famous Jameson matriarch.
My curiosity burns inside me, but I tamp it down.
It’s none of my business.
Instead, I focus on Glory. “How often did you get tests done at the hospital?”
“I used to live there.” She stuffs the spoon into her mouth. “I used to feel a lot worse. Sometimes, I couldn’t get out of bed at all. Daddy would get worried and hold my hand and beg me not to leave him.”
She speaks with a dismissive acceptance that makes me emotional. I can clearly picture Glory on a cot in the hospital fighting for her life. It reminds me of my sister, Deshawna, and my heart swells with sorrow.
“But I’m feeling a lot better now.” Glory grins, dragging me back to the present. “The new hospital found out what was wrong with me. The only thing is…” Her head dips and she stares at the table. “The medicine is expensive, and Daddy doesn’t have a lot of money.”
My eyes widen.
That doesn’t make any sense. Heath’s the son of a media and fashion mogul. Surely his pride wouldn’t keep him from asking his parents for help when his daughter’s life is at stake? Or maybe it would. Maybe their relationship is just that bad.
“I always hear him arguing with Uncle Kastle.”
“About what?” I lean forward.
“Uncle Kastle keeps paying for stuff. I think it makes Daddy feel bad,” Glory whispers. Then she glances around. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Whatever’s going on, I’m sure you don’t have to worry about it.”
She pouts. “It’s just that… daddy works really hard to help me feel better. That’s why I try not to complain when the nurses keep poking me with needles.” She makes a face that communicates just how much she detests those procedures.
“Your dad is really proud of you.”
“I know. He loves me a lot, but…” She plays with her spoon.
“But what?”
“He tells me that I’m all he needs, and I know that’s not true. Even Marinette has Adrian.” Glory spoons another bit of ice cream into her mouth. “So I found my daddy a wife.”
“You… did?”
She nods smartly. “Steph, she’s my best friend, she told me all about these people called Make It Marriage. She says her Uncle Brogan found his wife that way. She said it was all so romantic and that the Make It Marriage people are the best of the best. So I asked Steph to invite the matchmakers to my birthday party too. That’s when I found out they know Uncle Kastle and Aunt Kaelyn.” Glory laughs. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”
“Y-yeah. I know.”
Glory grins. “I wrote them a letter and asked Aunt Kaelyn to give it to them. They sent one back.” She glances furtively around and slides a note out of her pocket.
It’s got the fancy Make It Marriage letterhead and the slogan ‘we’re better than Cupid’ on the front.
I open it, expecting a type-written note, but it’s actually handwritten.
Kayla Humes’s signature is on the bottom.
Glory shakes with excitement. “They’re going to bring someone for dad to meet at my party.”
I blink rapidly. “What?”
She giggles behind her ice cream. “It’s going to be Daddy’s first date. Isn’t that funny?”
I scoop out a big portion of the ice cream and shove it into my mouth, chomping down angrily.
The flavor tastes like dust.
Like disappointment.
Like jealousy.
“Yeah, Glory.” I choke. “That’s… great.”
Thirteen
Heath
All my life, my mother was the one who ran things. Dad was the passive one. Quiet. No thoughts of his own.
He’s a background character in all my memories. Shirt folded up to his elbows. Eyes on the ceiling. Buried in paperwork and regret.
Later, he was buried in his secretary.
Glory was his only contribution to the world.
Mom, on the other hand, got things done. She told us where to go. How to smile. Who to know.
Her dreams weren’t just wispy clouds and hazy figments of the imagination. If she wanted something, she went after it like a bulldog.
And I admired her for it.
I thought she was amazing.
Sure, she was a little hard to read. A little hard to love. But at least she fought for something.
At least she had ambition.
Eventually, she had everything she wanted.
But I didn’t realize how many heads mom stepped on to get to the top.
It wasn’t until Kastle.
Wasn’t until the cameras and the lights, that I woke up.
I saw that everyone around her, including me and dad, were just pawns in her rise to glory.
She was power-hungry.
Insatiable.
A monster.
My trust was shattered.
I left, thinking I was beyond her control. Thinking she would return the favor and leave me alone.
But now that I’m sitting beside her in a luxury car that can probably pay for my
entire apartment, I realize she had kept just enough out of sight that I thought I was in control. It was naive of me to believe that I wouldn’t find myself back in the palm of her hand.
Only this time, I’m not a rebellious teenager riding high on waves of hurt and anger.
I’m a man with a daughter to protect.
“What do you want?” I growl.
“Goodness, Heath. Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t bother telling your own mother you’re back in town and you’re the one who’s angry?”
“I’m not doing this with you,” I warn in a low, dangerous voice.
“What exactly are we doing?”
“I asked you to never show up in front of Glory and yet…” I gesture to the bodyguards standing around the car like she’s the freaking president.
Mom purses her lips. “It’s not like you introduced us.”
“Is that what you came here for? To meet her?”
Mom’s laughter is tight and controlled. “Honey, do you think I want to see that little brat? She’s constant evidence that your father couldn’t keep his pants zipped even after everything I’ve given to him.”
“Her name is Glory.”
“What?” Mom stops mid-chuckle.
“She’s not ‘that little brat’. Her name is Glory. And she is my daughter. You do not have to acknowledge her as family, but you will talk about her with respect.”
Nostrils flaring, Mom glances away. “I didn’t come here to argue, Heath.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To speak,” her eyes turn hard, “about your father.”
I study her face. “Things are that bad, huh?”
Their marriage has never been one of rainbows and walks on beaches, but I’ve never seen so much resentment pouring from my mom before. She usually has everything under control, including my father.
Mom deflects the question. “I know you and your dad met earlier this week.”
“And?”
“He’s got these grand notions of redeeming himself and bringing that child around, the idiot.”
“Dad’s not going to do that.”
“You tell me, Heath.” She leans forward. “Do you really think he wouldn’t?”
I open my mouth. Snap it shut.
Memories of my conversation with dad crawl back to me.
He wasn’t acting like his usual self.
