“Oh, yes,” she says quickly. “It’s pretty here, and it’s not noisy outside like it is at home.”
My smile is back.
“Hey, little lady,” Seth says.
“Hi, are you Mr. Kent?” she asks with hope in her voice.
I swallow hard.
“No. My name is Seth. It’s nice to meet you,” he says. I can imagine he’s holding his hand out for her.
I should be mad he’s meeting her before me, but I can’t be. She asked for me. My little girl asked for me. Yeah, I know she doesn’t know who I am to her, but that one simple question, it restored all of my fear, spinning it into hope. With five words from my daughter, I know that everything is going to be okay.
“Do you hammer nails too? Mr. Kent said he would teach me,” Kendrix says. “Oh, and my name is Kendrix Layne Nottingham.”
“He did? Well, can I tell you a secret?”
“Oh, I’m good at secrets. Right, Momma?”
“You are, baby,” Delaney agrees with her.
“Well, Mr. Kent, he’s the best at hammering nails. I can do it, but he’s so much better than me.”
There’s a shuffle of feet before she says, “Oh, is he here? I really want to hammer a nail.”
Seth chuckles. “He’s here. It was nice to meet you, Kendrix Layne Nottingham.”
“Bye, Mr. Seth,” she calls out, and I hear his heavy footfalls.
He appears in the door, and the smile on his face has jealousy pinching my gut. “She’s all you, my man. No denying that. She’s smart as a whip too. Wouldn’t put it past her to figure it out on her own.” He laughs, and something that feels like a flock of birds take flight in my gut.
“Momma, let’s go find him. Please, Momma.”
“No,” Delaney’s mom says again.
“Mother.” Delaney’s voice is stern. “I have you set up in the bedroom at the end of the hall on the second floor. Why don’t you go lie down? Kendrix and I are going to find Kent.”
“Delaney.” Mrs. Nottingham’s voice cracks.
“I know, Mother. I know it all. We’ll discuss this later.” She leaves no room for negotiation in her tone.
“I was protecting you. Both of you.”
“From what? What were you protecting me from? Love? Strong work, Mother, you succeeded,” Delaney spits out.
“He’s—” her mom starts, only to be shut down again.
“Enough. You will say nothing further, do you understand me? You’re in my house, Mother. And this is my life. You no longer get to run the show. I can’t even look at you right now.”
“Momma, what’s wrong?” Kendrix asks, and I step toward the door. A hand on my shoulder stops me. I know it’s Ridge without looking. He’s been standing there since they got here.
“Nothing, sweetie. How about you and I go find Mr. Kent?”
“Yay. Momma, do you know how to hammer a nail?” she asks.
“I do, but I’m sure Mr. Kent is so much better than Mommy.”
“Maybe he can teach you too?” Her sweet little voice is hopeful.
“I’m sure he will, sweetie.”
Their footsteps grow closer. My eyes are glued to the door as I stand frozen, waiting to see her for the first time. When they step into the open doorway, my heart stalls in my chest.
My daughter.
My baby girl.
My world.
Delaney drops to her knees. I don’t take my eyes off her as she brushes Kendrix’s hair out of her face. “Mr. Kent, he’s… a very special man to Mommy and to you.”
“’Cause he’s good at hammering nails?”
I hear the guys chuckle behind me, and my smile appears yet again. “I don’t know about that. I’ll let you be the judge. Kendrix, I’d like you to meet Kent.” She points at me and I pull in a ragged breath.
Kendrix takes one step, and then another, and another until she’s standing in front of me. I drop to my knees and just stare at her. She’s beautiful. The perfect mix of Delaney and myself. I want nothing more than to hug her tight. Wrap my arms around her and never let her go.
“Hi.” She waves. Her smile falters when she looks down at me.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
“Where’s your hammer?”
I chuckle. “You ready for me to teach you how to hammer a nail?”
She nods her little head up and down like a bobblehead on the dash of a car.
“Well, I have something for you.”
I stand and walk over to the corner of the room. I grab the small kit I bought at Lowe’s earlier this week when we were picking up supplies. It’s for kids, with a small hammer and nails. It’s in a pink gift bag, and I feel stupid for handing my little girl a gift she doesn’t know is from her daddy. I crouch back to my knees to be on her level. I don’t want to miss a minute of this moment.
“Oh, thank you. Can I open it, Momma?” She looks over her shoulder at Delaney, who nods.