Fortuity (Transcend 3) - Page 30
Nate pulls back half an inch, letting his lips hover next to mine, the warmth of his breath covering my stunned mouth. “I’m not even sorry.” He shrugs.
My mouth opens as if it wants to speak, but I have no idea what to say.
“Dad …”
Nate bolts up, leaving me on my knees. “Yes?”
“Can Hunter use—” Morgan’s eyes narrow at me, my head barely peeking over the counter. “Gracelyn, what are you doing?”
“I’m …” I give her a tight smile.
Nate says, “Picking up a few crumbs.”
At the same time, I say, “Tying your dad’s shoe.”
His explanation is much better.
Morgan laughs. “Um … okay. You’re both acting weird.”
I climb to my feet.
“Can Hunter use what?” Nate asks.
“Your bike so we can go for a bike ride.”
“Are you going to stay around here?”
Morgan nods. “Pinky swear. We won’t go too far.”
“I’ll need to put the seat down for her.”
“Yes! Thanks, Dad. I’ll go tell her.” Morgan runs out of the kitchen.
Nate covers the cake with plastic wrap and nods to my plate with the half-eaten piece of cake. “Are you going to finish that?”
Cake. He wants to talk about the cake?
My head inches side to side.
“Too good to let it go to waste.” He picks up the plate and finishes my cake.
YOU KISSED ME!
“By the way …” His gaze remains on the plate as he scoops up the last bite. “Morgan knows I know how to tie my own shoes.”
“You kissed me!” I whisper yell.
“I did.” He sets the plate in the sink and turns to look at me. “Still don’t regret it, but I won’t do it again if you didn’t like it.”
“That’s … that’s …” I shake my head. “Not the point at all.”
“No?” He cocks his head.
I’m in trouble. Nearly two more months with this guy—cliff-diver, Jamie doppelgänger, kiss stealer.
“It can never be more than a kiss.” I tip my chin up.
“Not even a second one?”
“Dad? Coming?” Morgan calls from the other room.
He pushes off the counter and brushes past me, leaning next to my ear for a split second and whispering three words, “Think about it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nathaniel
“Bed, Squirt.”
Morgan slips her bookmark into her book from her beanbag chair as I fold a load of laundry on the sofa. “You don’t have to tuck me in if you don’t want to.” She hugs her book to her chest.
“What would make you think I don’t want to tuck you in?”
Twisting her lips, she shrugs. “I just don’t want you to think I need you to do it … that you have to do it.”
It’s official. She’s breaking my heart. I try not to let it show on my face.
“Do you feel like you’re too old for me to tuck you into bed?”
She won’t even look at me. Her gaze sticks to her bare feet as she rocks back and forth on them.
I don’t want to make her feel bad. My heart wants to give her wings, not clip them. But damn … it’s hard. “So are you thinking a hug right here?”
Her head lifts an inch at a time. Big blue eyes meet mine, and she smiles even with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “Definitely.” She shifts her book to her right hand and wraps her arms around my neck.
I hug her a little tighter—a little longer. “Goodnight. I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Daddy.
I’ll take it. Most of the time she calls me Dad in front of other people, but I still get Daddy when she hugs me.
She heads up the stairs, and I put away the towels, start the dishwasher, and lock the doors. After brushing my teeth, I shrug off my shirt and start to close the shades over the door to my balcony. Just before they’re completely shut, I stop. Flipping off the light so I can get a better view, I cup my hands at my face against the glass.
There’s a body on its back on Gracelyn’s balcony. I hope it’s her, and I hope she’s alive. Stepping out onto my balcony, I rest my forearms on the railing. “You okay?”
“Yep.” She doesn’t move. Her gaze remains aimed at the sky, hands folded on her stomach.
My head falls back, and I take in the starry night. “Are you sleeping outside?”
“Nope.”
“Have you forgiven me yet?”
“It’s hard to forgive someone who regrets nothing.”
I grin even though she can’t see it.
“It’s your wife, isn’t it? I look like her. Do I kiss like she did?”
Dropping my head, I run my hands through my hair—or lack thereof.
“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s hard to let go of someone when it feels …” She sighs. “When it feels like you didn’t let go. Like you had this hold on them and they just disappeared without you letting go. And they … they took a piece of you with them. Everyone else is just a piece of a different puzzle.”
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