She tilts her head, studying me with a gaze that’s too perceptive for her age. “Do you?”
I look down at my hands, pretending to brush invisible lint from my jeans. “I do. I know Mya is good for us. She makes things easier, and I haven’t felt that in a long time.”
My gut twists, because it’s a lie, or at least, it’s supposed to be.
Brianna is quiet for a moment, as if turning the words over in her mind. “I like her,” she finally admits. “She’s nice, and she actually listens to me.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“But…” Bri hesitates, frowning slightly. “Be careful, Dad. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Hey.” I reach over and take her hand. “I appreciate that, Piglet, but I promise, I know what I’m doing. I just need you to trust me.”
She squeezes my hand back, her eyes softer now. “I do trust you, Dad. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
I pull my daughter into my arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
She groans against my shoulder. “Okay, okay, you’re crushing me.”
I laugh, releasing her. “You’ll live.”
Brianna rolls her eyes but smiles. “I just hope she says yes.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Me too.” I ruffle her hair and add, “You won’t be upset about not being there, right?”
“Not as long as you promise to have another party here. Soon.”
I grin. “Deal.”
The word barely leaves my mouth before guilt starts to eat at me. Because there won’t be another party. The marriage won’t last long enough for a promise like that to mean anything.
Brianna beams, leaning into my side, already picturing something I know I won’t be able to give her.
The worst part about all this is letting her believe in a future that I’m already planning on taking away.
But I convince myself that it’s the best thing to do in order to protect her.
I stand in the foyer,my bag slung over my shoulder, the car waiting outside.
“I’ll call you when we land, Piglet.”
“Okay. Be safe.” Her arms squeeze me tight, and when she lets go, Maggie steps forward to hug me too.
“Don’t worry about a thing here,” she assures. “We’ll be fine.”
I nod, but worry is second nature to me when it comes to my daughter, especially now. I give Bri one last look before I step out the door.
Right then, a car pulls up to the house. It’s Griffin.
As soon as he exits the vehicle with Sylas in tow, he fixes me with an unimpressed glare.
“What?” I ask.
Griffin ignores my question at first, ushering his son inside. He pulls Sylas into a quick hug, presses a kiss to his hair, and promises to call as soon as he lands. Only then does he turn back to me. Once the door is shut, he finally responds.
“Don’t ‘what’ me. We need to talk about this Paris bullshit.”
I rub a hand over my jaw. “Which part?”