The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

“We’ll talk about this later.” I threw him a reassuring smile and hurried out of the bedroom.

When we were deciding about where we would raise our kid, we’d decided on the beach house, even though Jack’s house in South Hartwell was larger. I told Jack to continue with the sale, and while he was at it, sell his place in North Hartwell too.

Despite only having three bedrooms, the beach house was in the perfect location.

Thankfully, it also had land on either side of it because we would need to build an addition. And I didn’t want to move.

Hurrying down the hall, I pushed into Tabitha’s room. Our daughter was turning four in three months’ time. However, first, her archenemy, Tyler Joseph Lawson, was turning four today.

We had such high hopes that those two would hit it off.

But they fought like cats and dogs and had done this since they could walk.

The problem was they were both too bossy for their own good.

It seemed my child had inherited her grandmother’s sass.

Despite our differences, it made me smile to think of my grandmother looking down on us and feeling smug that she’d passed along some of her traits to her great-granddaughter.

Tabby was sitting on the floor of the bedroom her father had worked with painstaking attention to detail to put together. He’d built custom shelving for all her books and toys. Even her bed was custom built by Jack and his old boss Ray. It had storage underneath for more toys. An old-fashioned armoire that Jack had sanded down and repainted stood in the corner, filled with more clothes than any kid needed, as was the matching dresser.

Surrounding our daughter on the carpeted floor were her cuddly toys and dolls.

“We’re having breakfast,” she announced in her cute, high-pitched voice as she gestured to her toy companions. “And I got hungry for real.”

My lips twitched. “Is that so?”

She gave me a look that said “well, yeah” that reminded me a lot of her father. Tabby was a wonderful mix of us both—she was a miniature version of me in looks but had her father’s mannerisms and sense of humor.

And his appetite.

“C’mon, then.” I reached down, hooked her under the arms, and lifted Tabby. It amazed me how one day she was this tiny little thing, and now I had toned upper arms and shoulders from carting her around everywhere. She wrapped her little legs as far as she could around me and clung to my neck.

Burying her face in my throat, she kissed me and whispered, “Morning, Mommy.”

Love, the kind of love I didn’t even know I was capable of or existed in this world, filled me. I loved Jack. I knew without shame in admitting it that I’d lose something essential to my very existence if I lost him. But the love I had for our daughter was so mammoth, so consuming, there were no words for it. Or the way it filled my entire being to the point it was painful. Like I was incapable of containing the size of it. I lived in this constant and indescribable place of pure joy that she existed and pure terror that something might one day harm her.

I knew Jack felt the same way because we’d spoken about it since the moment she’d entered this world.

“Morning, baby,” I replied as I carried her downstairs. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Thus began the usual twenty-minute conversation in which Tabby couldn’t make up her mind.

We’d finally decided on blueberry pancakes when Jack strode into the room. He’d thrown on a T-shirt with his pajama bottoms, but he still had sex hair. I shivered, wishing we’d had time for more.

“Morning, Daddy!” Tabby yelled from her seat at the table. She loved sitting with the grown-ups, so we’d put a booster seat on one of the dining room chairs for her.

Jack grinned and lifted her into his arms for a cuddle and a kiss. “Is that how you’re wearing your hair for Ty’s party?” he teased her.

Her white-blond hair was a tangled cloud of silk around her face.

She wrinkled her nose. “No!”

Jack chuckled. “Why not? It’s cute.”

“Do I have to go?” Tabby pouted.

Seriously. Those kids. Jack and I shared a look before he gave Tabby a squeeze and returned her to her chair. “Tyler’s important to us. To you too. Even if you don’t get along all the time. Would you want him to miss your birthday?”