Only for Us (7 page)

I Googled two-year-olds all night long and found out several things. Kids aren’t the easy fun they look like on TV commercials. There are message boards and websites dedicated to kids who won’t eat, who won’t talk, who have two parents, one parent, same-sex parents, who were conceived accidentally or brought into this world with the help of implantation—a word that didn’t mean what I thought it meant. There are mommy “wars,” a term that bugs the shit out of me, and parenting styles: attachment, helicopter, free range, tiger…

So basically, I’m terrified of a two-foot-tall dream come true.
Hell—
I’m more worried about what she thinks about me than I’ve been concerned over anything else in my entire life.

Crap. I take another gulp of soda and fail to ignore my clammy palms.

I pick up the purple stuffed dog and glare at it. “I can do this.”

Go time. I breathe out and try to hide my giddy smile. Grabbing the wrapped notebook, I jump out of the truck and head for the door, my pulse jumping faster with each step.

The door flies open as I raise my hand to knock. Emma has Cally perched on her hip. God, they are beautiful. Both girls have sweet grins that make me feel like more of a man than I’ve ever been. Then Cally quickly loses interest and mumbles something about TV. A nibbling self-doubt surfaces. I need to be what they need, but I’m not sure how to do it. Hence, the Googling.

Emma redirects the squirming girl. “Cally, honey. No more right now.”

“Hey.” I don’t know how to greet them. If it were just Emma, it’d be a hug and a kiss. But I’m sure there’s a line that I’m nowhere near when it comes to hugging Cally. My heart squeezes as disappointment settles in. I want to hug her. I want that connection so much it hurts.

Emma sidles up to me and throws her arm around my neck, pecking my cheek. “Hey, you.”

“I brought presents.” As Emma steps back, I hold up the stuffed animal and the wrapped notebook.

Cally’s eyes light. “I ’member you.”

“I remember you, too.” At her innocent reaction, an easy calm runs through me. “I brought this for you.”

Her little head turns to Emma, asking permission without saying a word. After she receives a nod, I hold the purple dog closer. Cally tentatively reaches for it, and when her fingers grasp it, she snakes it to her cheek, curls it into her neck, and cuddles the ever-lovin’ stuffing out of it.

“Guess she likes it.” And
that
feels pretty damn good.

Emma tilts her head to watch. “It’s perfect.”

“You ready?” Because I’m not. I’m not hiding, but I’m sure not gung-ho to head into the Kingsley-family hate-Grayson zone. When I called Ryan the other day, there was no answer. I didn’t know what to say, so my voicemail message consisted of “I’m in town, bro. Call me.” No return call. As expected.

“Let’s go.” She sets Cally down, and we both watch her run to Emma’s Jeep. “Mine has a car seat.” She places her keys into my palm but doesn’t take her hand away. “Maybe we ditch and go out to eat.”

Hooah, I’d love that. But I shake my head. “Nope. Not ditching your birthday party, pretty mama. Move boots.”

With her hand in mine, I lead the way then watch Emma as she straps Cally into the car seat. It basically looks like a standard five-point harness. Not that dissimilar to a jumpsuit and pack. I could totally figure that out.

“Easy peasy,” she says to me.

“Right.” I hold the passenger door open and let Emma slip in then angle to her side as she buckles. I push back the hair that covers her cheek. All my anxiety slips away when I touch her. “Happy birthday, baby. I’ll make up for all the ones I missed.”

She leans over and kisses me, making Cally giggle and sing words that don’t make sense.

“Now, are we ready?” She bites her lip, looking as if she’s nowhere near ready to end that kiss.

Neither am I. I glance into the back seat and watch Cally snuggle against the purple dog. “Absolutely.” But I can’t stop myself, and I lean over to kiss her lips.

When I pull back, her cheeks are pink and her eyes dreamy. Her hand catches my shirt. “We should totally find five minutes alone.”

The words go straight south, turning me on more than the two not-so-chaste kisses. “Five minutes?”

She giggles. “Five minutes all alone…”

I brush her ear with my lips. “The things I could do to you in five minutes.”

Her breath sucks in quietly, and as I stand up and head for my seat, it’s not lost on me that her pink cheeks and dreamy, soft brown eyes are now rabidly hungry.

Her blue Jeep is a boxy older model but impeccably well cared for. There’s a dream catcher hanging from the mirror and a photo of her and Cally on the center console. I slide into my seat, push my chair back, and reposition the mirrors. A sense of making myself comfortable in her life settles over me.

Emma’s fiddling with the radio, and I back out the driveway and head for her parents’ house. The wrapped notebook is stashed between the center console and me, and I catch her glancing at it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

I take her hand and wish I could fulfill every hope she’s ever dared dream. “It’s really not much.”
But it’s everything to me.
“Something I should have given you long ago.”

“Oh.” She raises an eyebrow. “Any hints?”

How to explain what’s in that notebook? “No words to describe what’s in there.”

Emma

The drive’s a short one. Grayson pulls into my folks’ driveway as if he does it every day, and then
he
jumps out to unbuckle Cally. It’s enough to make my ovaries scream “Oh my God.” Seriously. He’s this gorgeous, massive beauty of a man, and now he’s talking gibberish with my—
our
—daughter.

“There you go.” He pats her on the back, and I can tell he took that moment to give her a hug. The loopy look on his face makes my insides go mushy.

She makes her stuffed puppy say “thank you” and runs off up to my parents’ front door. He turns to watch, his green eyes glowing with unsaid emotion, and I’m melting all over the place. There’s nothing sexier than a hot guy and a cute kid.
Nothing
. So, to watch the man that I adore hug our daughter for the first time… it transcends all other sentiments I’ve felt for him. It’s epic.

Grayson beams and throws his arm around my shoulder. “Gave my girl a hug. Nothing else matters today.”

“She hugged you back.” My throat catches, and I lean into him. Cally has never known a father, but there is a connection between the two of them already.

“Ready?”

My gaze falls on the house, a place I think of as Cally’s fun house. There’s a room dedicated to her with a rocking horse and cowgirl hat, a mini-slide, dolls, and games. It pretty much looks like a toy store threw up in there. But this is where I grew up, where Grayson was by my side almost every day. I fell in love with him in that house; we shared our first kiss in my room.

“Gamma!” Cally slaps the door. “Gamma. Hwello.”

We follow behind, slowly walking up the sidewalk. Gray’s hand takes mine as I think about how I like him in my driver’s seat, how I like him unbuckling Cally, how I like him being part of everyday life. Knowing where we’re probably going, together in a forever kind of relationship, gives me the tingles. Even though I’ve only had days to take in this new reality, I know it’s the future.

But despite all that, nervous butterflies tornado in my belly. I have no idea what will happen between Ryan, my dad, and Grayson.
Oh, God
… “I’m gonna puke.”

He chuckles low and squeezes my hand. A rush of goose bumps erupts over my shoulders, shooting down my spine.

“Don’t do that.” His voice is so calm, so steadfast that I actually take a semi-normal breath.

His thumb slides over my knuckles as I hang on to him with everything I’ve got. “Grayson, wait.”

We stop midway up the sidewalk. “I have so much to tell you before we walk in there.”

A playful half grin curls on his face. “Right now?”

I nod, adamant that he has to hear how I feel. I have to arm him with the knowledge of how deeply I care before we go in there.

“Okay. Shoot, baby.”

“You’re not just my best friend, not just the father of my daughter. You’re the love of my life.” My thoughts are rushed, and I want them to sound perfect. “I haven’t explained that to you since you came home.” The pulse in my neck rushes. “I can’t seem to get the words to come out right. What’s in my head isn’t what I’ve said.” I take a deep breath and plunge forward. “I need to say I love you. But what I mean is
I love you
—in a way that defies definition and exists only in a world that you and I are in. I’m in deep for you, and I just need you to know that before we go in there.”

His eyes fire, and their intensity makes me feel as if I have angel wings, as if I can do no wrong though I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to pull off even semi-okay.

Thick arms wrap me into a muscled hug so consuming tears spring into my eyes. His lips press against the top of my head, and he breathes in deep. “You smell like sunshine.”

“Please don’t let me go.” I squeeze him tighter, positive that if I’m hurting his side he will never tell me. “I love us.”

“Ems, baby.” He loosens his hold and lets one hand cup my cheek, tracing my jawbone. “We’re okay. No matter what.”

I nod.

His laughter surprises me. “You’re expecting awfulness in there. A war zone?”

I bite my lip. “Maybe.”

“Good thing I’ve been through that particular kind of hell once before. Nothing thrown my way will change a thing about us.”

“Promise?”

He shrugs a shoulder, and his confidence is almost contagious. “Don’t need to promise.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He winks. “I’ve got your back. Into battle we go.”

CHAPTER NINE

Grayson

Talk of battles and war zones before walking in wasn’t the best move. It forces me to remember my team that I lost, and then I look around at my two girls I abandoned. The stress that accompanies both lines of thought itches for attention, but I ignore it. I told Emma I had her back, and I’ll cover her always. Still, I have no idea what to expect behind that door and am prepared for the worst from Ryan and her dad.

Mrs. Kingsley opens the front door as Cally squeals and jumps into her arms. The tension in my chest expands, my nerves quickening the beat of my pulse.

“Gamma!”

“Hi, buttercup.”

“Wook!” She shoves the stuffed animal in the older but familiar face of Emma’s mom. Somehow, I always thought the two women were similar, even though her mom looks as if she walked out of a clothing catalog, and Emma is wearing a shirt she probably designed herself.

“That’s very nice.” Cally wiggles out of Mrs. Kingsley’s hold and runs inside, leaving her mom to turn toward us. “Happy birthday, Emma. Nice to see you, Grayson.”

I’m strong for Emma and controlling my apprehension, but my knees try to lock up, and my breath staggers. I know this house better than the one I grew up in. Each step farther inside is like pushing through desert sand with a seventy-five-pound rucksack and no sleep for days. My throat tightens as the heaviness of her disapproval hangs over me even though she’s done nothing but smile.

Emma’s hand slips free from mine, and I’m suddenly on my own. Fuck me. She thought I was supporting her? No way—she was holding me together.

“Hey, Mom. Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course.” Her eyes move to me. “Welcome home, Grayson.”

I can’t swallow, can’t take a breath. I nod. “Thanks.” Disappointment will be my death, abandonment my curse. Once upon a time, I wanted this woman to be my mother as much as I wanted to live in this family rather than my own. Being twenty-one doesn’t take away childhood memories. “I’m sorry.”

She moves from Emma and wraps me into a maternal hug. Tears I won’t let show sting my eyes and throat.

Her hand pats my pack. “I mean it, Grayson. I’m thrilled you’re back.”

I pull away and need her to understand. “I didn’t know. I thought I left her in a better place without me.”

She hugs me again and then again pats my back as if I’m still part of her Kingsley clan. “Alright, you two. Cally’s probably already in the cake, which I haven’t finished yet, so let’s go.”

Emma takes my hand again, and we follow her mom. My heart rate is sporadic, and my feelings are scattered. Coming home from war alone was hard. Injury made it worse. Walking into their familiar home, with all its same smells and sounds, is heartbreaking.

Cally and Cherry are screaming and laughing in a back room. Mr. Kingsley stops on his way from the kitchen with platter full of hot dogs and hamburgers. There’s a hardness in his posture that’s impossible to miss. It’s a mistrust that he doesn’t need to explain. We stare, locked for a long second, until Emma breaks free to hug him.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Happy birthday, Emma.”

After they hug, he goes back to his assessment of me. It’s awkward, the way we all are. Ems doesn’t seem to know what to say. Her mom is behind me, hovering. Finally, Mr. Kingsley nods and extends his hand. “Welcome home.”