Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose 2)

My heart slams up into my throat. It’s nerve wracking, getting what you want. It’s painful and strange and exciting. Being with Brody is going to mean letting new people into Bridget’s life, starting today. “Did you tell her?”

“Not yet, but I want to ask her to come down later … if you’re all right with that.”

Before I can answer, he stumbles over his next words. “I just feel like it wouldn’t be right to not tell her.”

“Of course,” I reply, but I have to clear my throat and repeat myself. “Of course she can come.” At that moment, Bridget drops a sugar packet and I bend to pick it up, taking a moment to calm myself down as he texts his mother.

The anxiousness is in full force, my nerves running a mile a minute.

The waitress swings by and drops menus onto the edge of the table. “Can I get everybody something to drink?”

“Chocolate milk for this one,” I answer automatically, “and an iced tea for me, please.” Brody orders a Coke, and when the waitress bustles away I turn back to him and tuck an arm around Bridget.

“Where did you want your mom to meet her?” I ask him, barely able to breathe at the thought. I’m caught up in him. I’m caught up in them … adding another person, another change. It feels so fast.

“Down here?”

“Down to where?” My mind’s not fully grasping what he’s saying.

“To here, the restaurant. She already ate, or—”

Oh, no. “Did you already eat?” I say, cutting him off without meaning to. The rain-washed feeling from this morning is wearing off. Couples talk over each other and negotiate and screw up. It’s one thing to fantasize about a person. It’s another thing to be muddling through a shared life with them. Then again, Brody is a fantasy all by himself.

His expression turns sheepish. “I ate, but—”

“I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“Like I was going to say no.” His smirk is comforting. “You can relax, I can always eat.” He reaches across the table and his strong hand covers mine. Brody’s skin is always warm, and I can feel the calluses left from his years of hard work. “I’ve been dying to see you guys anyway.” He pauses and seems to consider something before adding, “Any time I can get with her, really. I know I’ve missed a lot and I don’t know the best way …”

His voice trails off and I don’t know the right words either, but I know what he’s getting at so I simply answer, “I know.”

The waitress comes by again and this time she drops a paper place mat with a bucket of crayons and a sheet of stickers for Bridget. My baby girl is up on her knees right away, digging through the bucket and picking out her favorites. She’s so serious about it. Her tongue sticks out from between her teeth as she draws. Her scribbles are serious art and the stickers, she says, are the price tags. “I could sell that in the gallery,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.

Brody watches her color with the same attentiveness he had the other night. I’m caught off guard when he asks, “You think she’ll call me Dad?”

My throat goes tight with emotion, but the rest of my body goes stiff. I’ve been responsible for keeping Bridget safe since the day she was born. Since before she was born, actually. I don’t know why Brody’s question makes that protective instinct flare up in me.

Well … yes I do. It’s because I know how it feels to have a man walk out of your life. On top of that, I know how it feels to have your own dad turn out to be a totally different person than you thought he was. I don’t want that for Bridget.

His baby blue eyes stare back at me, vulnerable and sincere. My heart pounds, reminding me of what’s between us and that even if it’s scary, that raging storm and chaos I feel around him is because I’m falling for him. I have fallen for him already.

Love is scary. But if another person can love my daughter the way I do, I want that for her.

I take a deep breath to calm the pounding in my veins. “She’s your daughter, so … whatever you like.”

“I’ll leave it up to her.” Brody clears his throat, and I can see him trying to keep his emotions in check. She is his baby girl too, and he’s missed out on most of her life so far. We’re just out to lunch at a restaurant I’ve been to a hundred times, but this time is different. It has a feeling to it that I can’t place. It’s hard to breathe, wanting everything to go perfectly.

Bridget sticks her tongue between her lips and blows a raspberry.