I don’t think I’ve ever heard King utter the words “I made a mistake.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure what else to go with.
“When you were hurt, I felt fucking useless, Zara. And that was before I knew the extent of it. I wanted to do whatever it took to ensure no one ever fucked with you again. When you then told me someone had broken your heart, I felt useless again. This father gig is hard, and I’ll be the first to admit I don’t always handle it well. When I realised it was Fury who’d broken your heart, I saw fucking red.” He pauses. “But a lot of that came from shit I’ve been carrying with me for decades; my own shit, not yours or his. I fucked up, and you will never know the regret I have over putting our relationship at risk.”
My arms go around him without thought. I don’t need to think, because my emotions own me when it comes to King. He puts his arm around me, too, and we stay like this for a long while. When I let him go, I look up into his eyes. “Just so you know, you handle this fathering gig pretty well most of the time.”
His eyes search mine. “We’re good?”
“We were always good, King. I won’t l
et you ruin a good thing. Not ever. Are you and Fury good?”
“We will be.”
“Then all is well in my world.”
He gives me a King smile. It’s not a smile with his mouth, but rather a smile with his eyes. “That’s all I want for you.”
King might be a stubborn, difficult, inflexible man sometimes, but at his core, he has a lot of love to give. He just goes about showing it the wrong way sometimes. He’s lucky he has me for a daughter; like I told him, I won’t let him ruin a good thing.
“Daddy! I want Bob!”
Fury’s facing me when Noah calls out for his father. We’re in the kitchen; he’s in the lounge room watching TV. “Bob will be the fucking death of me,” he says softly so Noah can’t hear.
I laugh and reach for his shirt. Gripping it, I say, “You want me to go hang out with him while you do whatever you need to do?”
I came from King’s to find Fury with a whole heap of paperwork spread out over his kitchen counter. He’s spent the last twenty minutes alternating between kissing me, answering Noah’s questions, and trying to read the paperwork.
At my offer to go hang out with his son, his features relax more than they already did when I arrived, and he places his hands to my head and runs his fingers through my hair. “I love you, Zara.”
“I know. I’m worth loving, especially since I like kids and can—”
His eyes burn with intensity when he says, “No, I love you.” His voice has turned a little growly and a whole lot firm, like he needs me to stop and really listen to what he’s saying.
My heart slows.
My tummy fills with butterflies.
My soul smiles.
Placing my hands to his arms, I say, “I love you, too.”
His mouth crashes down onto mine and his hand goes to the nape of my neck. He kisses me with the kind of intensity that leaves me breathless. When he lets me go, he says, “I want a family with you, a home with you, and a life where you’re the last person I see every night. I want to grow old staring at that ass of yours.”
My lips curl up at the ends. “Even when it’s not a ten anymore?”
He grins. “Baby, it’ll always be a ten for me.”
Oh. My.
God, you might just be off my shitlist now.
“I want all of that with you, too. Especially the ass bit.”
He kisses me again, chuckling in the way that makes me all gooey on the inside.
Noah comes running into the kitchen, distracting his father until I lift him and say, “Come on, little man, let’s go watch some Bob.”