Worth stays mostly out of the way during the festivities, which I understand. This many teenagers in one room could make anyone want to hide, but I catch glimpses of him now and then, watching from the hallway with that smile he reserves only for Brianna.
My parents linger near the kitchen, chatting quietly with Worth. I hover around the entrance, pretending I’m not listening.
“Thank you for inviting us,” my stepdad says. “We wanted to see things for ourselves.”
My mother’s brows soften as she studies him. “We adore our daughter. We just want to make sure she’s in good hands.”
Worth nods. “I can assure you that I’d do anything to keep your daughter happy. I don’t take that lightly. Mya means a lot to us.”
Devon’s gaze drifts past my husband toward the noise of the party. “And your daughter?”
Worth glances that way, warmth bleeding into his expression. “Brianna is everything to me. And she loves Mya. This family may look unconventional from the outside, but it’s real.”
My mother finally exhales. “Okay, good. Then we’re happy to be here.”
Worth smiles, looking relieved. “Let me show you around. And please, make yourselves at home.”
Something eases in me as I watch the interaction.
Hours later, the party begins to wind down, and once the last of the girls are gone, my parents and Tiana say their goodbyes, promising to invite us to dinner soon.
Brianna and I begin to tidy the kitchen when Worth appears in the doorway, looking exhausted but content. “Hey, birthday girl. Got a minute?”
Brianna perks up immediately. “Yeah!”
“Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Curiosity flares in her eyes, and she bounces to her feet. Worth gives me a smile and I follow them down the hall, stopping in front of the double doors to his workshop. When he pushes the doors open, Brianna gasps.
Inside, the faint scent of wood and varnish fills the air. The space glows under the overhead lights and, right in the center, stands a custom-built sketching desk in polished oak, with adjustable angles, and drawers lined neatly with pencils and brushes.
“For me?” Bri whispers, her hands flying to her mouth.
Worth’s smile is wide. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
She rushes forward, running her hands over the smooth surface, inspecting every detail like it’s made of gold. “Dad, it’s perfect!”
Something soft blooms in my chest. This isn’t just a gift. It’s hours of effort and thought poured into something just for his daughter.
He ruffles her hair gently. “You deserved a proper place to draw. No more using the kitchen table.”
She spins around and hugs him tight. “Thank you, Dad. I love it.”
Worth’s arms circle her, and I swear I catch a glimmer in his eyes before he blinks it away.
I can’t help my smile. Even though sadness fills me. Because in this moment, I realize I truly love being a part of this family. And I don’t want to let them go.
39
WORTH
When I wake, the first thing I feel is warmth.
Mya’s arm is draped across my chest, her leg hooked over mine, hair a dark tangle on the pillow beside me. She’s out cold.
I laugh quietly to myself.
This is the same woman who made ahugedeal about needing her own room before she moved in, who didn’t want to confuse boundaries. Yet every night since, she’s ended up right here, in my bed and in my arms.