Fighting For a Second Chance (Fighting 1)

“Mommy, Cooper, can I come in?”

Lifting my head, I see my little princess poking her head around the corner. I look back at Liz and she’s still sleeping, so I place my fingers over my lips so Bella doesn’t wake her mom up.

Carefully, I get out of bed, making sure not to jostle Liz. Then, taking Bella’s small hand, I give her a smile and whisper, “Why don’t we make your mom breakfast in bed?”

She lights up at the idea and starts skipping down the hallway, pulling me along.

“Yes, please! Can we make chocolate chip pancakes? Oh! And bacon? And can we make cupcakes and cookies too? Mommy loves all that.”

“Bella, you sure it’s your mom who loves cupcakes and cookies for breakfast?” I ask with a laugh. The fact my daughter is already trying to get one over on me has me grinning like a Cheshire cat. This girl already has me wrapped around her cute little finger and I’m absolutely okay with that.

“Maybe it’s me that likes all that stuff, but I bet my mom would eat it all. She likes junk food too. Her and Auntie Kay always buy it and say junk food makes every woman happy.”

“I’m sure they’re right. Why don’t we start with pancakes and bacon, and we’ll see about maybe going out for lunch and dessert later.”

“Okay.” She stops abruptly and turns around, pointing her crooked pinky out at me. Damn, kids still do this shit? I give her my pinky and we hook them together for a good ol’ pinky promise. I hope Liz is okay with going out later because there’s no way I’m breaking our first pinky promise.

We get to the kitchen and I’m glad I bought groceries once Liz agreed to move in. I grab the griddle and plug it in, then set about grabbing all the ingredients to make pancakes. Bella grabs a chair and drags it to the counter to stand on. Even on a chair she’s still so tiny.

“Can I put all the stuff in and mix it all up, please?” She looks at me while batting her eyelashes.

Fuck! Are all women born with the ability to make a man do whatever they want through their damn eyelashes?

“Of course, you can, Princess.”

I place all the stuff within her reach, and she begins pouring it all into the bowl carefully, then mixes it all together. While she’s doing that, I throw the bacon in the oven. I have to wonder if all kids are this cute and helpful. One thing is for sure, Liz has done a damn good job raising her. At eighteen, I was fighting and fucking. Liz was going to college and taking care of a baby. I wish I could do something to show her how amazing she is, but I can’t think of anything that’s anywhere near equivalent to this amazing woman caring for our daughter for the last four years.

I spoon the pancake mix onto the hot griddle as I listen to Bella rattle on about preschool and the mean boys who have cooties.

“…And then I told Tristan if he touches me one more time and gives me the cooties, I’ll punch him in the face.” Hmm… I don’t like this Tristan. I’ll have to ask Liz about this kid. I can’t have some little shit giving my princess any cooties.

“Good for you, Princess. Don’t take anyone’s crap.”

“Ahem. I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage our daughter to punch anybody.”

Bella and I both turn around to find Liz standing against the island giving us what I imagine is the mom look.

“Mom, you’re supposed to be in bed. I can’t bring you food in bed if you aren’t in bed.” Bella’s standing there looking all cute and mad with her hands on her hips just like her mom does, when she switches gears.

“Wait, Mommy. I’m Cooper’s daughter too?”

Liz’s eyes open as wide as saucers when she realizes what she just implied, and I grin. Now’s the perfect time to tell Bella she is in fact my daughter.

I take the pancakes off the griddle and pull the bacon out of the oven, setting it all on the center of the table. I pour everyone some orange juice and we all sit at the table, Bella and I both looking at Liz.

“Bella, how would you feel if Cooper was your daddy?”

I tense up, waiting for her answer, as Bella nonchalantly grabs a pancake from the platter and says, “I would feel happy. Duh!”

And… my entire body relaxes.

“Well, yes. Cooper is your daddy,” Liz says.

I’m wondering if she’s going to go into all the specifics. I mean, how do you explain to a four-year-old a thirty-hour stand? Yep, I’m still sticking to that. Liz was so much more than a one-night stand.

Apparently, that’s all the explanation she needs, though. “Cooper, can I call you Daddy?”