Because of her.
He could have told her something else, too.
He, Grant Bishop, was going to spend the rest of his life, every minute of every day, doing what he could to make her happy, too.
Because together, they could handle anything life handed them.
Together, they were one.
Lynn was wiping Kara’s hands and mouth. “Ready for your nap, little one?” she asked.
“It’s not time for her nap.” Maddie was frowning.
Lynn glanced at Grant. And her look told him exactly what was on her mind.
“You and Darin have to get to the day care and therapy, don’t you?” he asked, innocently enough to pass by the two of them.
Darin glanced at his watch. “Yes,” he said. “And now that we’re having a baby and getting married, you’re going to let us walk there alone, aren’t you?”
Darin’s look was pointed, serious.
“Yes.” Grant’s answer was just as serious.
He wished they’d hurry up and get out of there. He knew what Lynn had in mind for the two of them during Kara’s naptime—and while it might involve a bed, it wasn’t napping.
“Tell everyone goodbye,” Lynn said, Kara on her hip.
“Bye,” Kara said to the room, rubbing a hand across her eyes. And then she looked at Grant.
“See you soon, Mister, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kara.” The words came out of his mouth.
And it was then that he fully recognized the truths that endured even when a guy tried to control what couldn’t be controlled. Couldn’t be contained.
He’d worked hard his whole life. Feeling in control. Providing everything he’d believed he needed.
But love had been waiting there for him, and he finally had it all.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A FAMILY FOR TYLER by Angel Smits.
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CHAPTER ONE
WYATT HAWKINS PULLED his black 4x4 pickup into the familiar drive and killed the engine. The huge truck was well suited for the wide Texas plains of his ranch, but here in Austin, at Mom’s house with all these close-knit homes, it seemed out of place. He stayed in the cab and stared through the dirt-streaked windshield at the place he still considered home.
But without Mom, it would never be the same.
The faint sound of footsteps made him glance in the rearview mirror. His sister Addie headed up the walk. Her shoulder-length blond hair and flowing black skirt rippled in the breeze. She stopped at the truck door and rapped, unnecessarily, on the window. He rolled the glass down and peered into her tired, sad face.
“You ready for this?” he whispered, hoping she’d say no and let them all off the hook. Being Addie, she didn’t, of course.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said on a deep sigh.
She hesitated a moment, then kept walking to the front door as if she knew by stopping she might never get started again. Wyatt climbed out of the truck and silently followed.
She unlocked the front door and pushed the heavy wood open.
The door didn’t smack against the wall like it had when they’d barreled through as children. Nor did the hinges squeal to remind Dad it was time to oil them.
It simply opened to a dark, musty room. A house full of stuff but empty of people.
Just then, a red convertible parked across the street. Both Wyatt and Addie turned to watch their younger sister Mandy climb out, her long blond hair shining in the sun. Her sky-high heels tapped across the paved street as she headed toward them.
Right behind her, the bumper of Tara’s Jeep almost kissed the chrome of the convertible. The engine rattled a moment after she turned it off. There was no door on the side of the vehicle to slam. She simply swung her legs out and landed on sneaker-clad feet and trotted up the walk.