Page 86 of A Major Puck Up

My mouth falls open, and I miss a step. What the hell have they been smoking? I have to clutch the banister as I continue, because at this point, my knees are a wobbly mess.

“Of course. She loves everyone, and my arm could probably use the break. Right, Vivi girl? Daddy could also use a whiskey.”

My stomach rolls. Gross. He calls himself Daddy?

“I’ll get you one,” Lake says. “Ford, you want a whiskey, too? I’ll see if Millie wants a margarita. I think we have the peach mix she likes.”

My timing couldn’t be any better. I’m just crossing the threshold into the kitchen when Lake says my name.

Gavin’s back is turned, but he goes ramrod straight then. “Millie?” he says, his voice hoarse. And then, as if he can sense my presence, he spins. When he zeroes in on me, his gaze narrows, almost in accusation. I barely spare him a glance, though. Not once I catch sight of the most adorable baby girl cradled in his arms.

My stomach does a bit of a somersault as I scan the kitchen. Lake is in front of the sink, her bright smile slipping with every second I remain stunned and silent. Beside her, my father, dressed in a black shirt and jeans, looks even more joyful than he did when I arrived.

Okay, two people accounted for.

The only other adult in the vicinity is Gavin. I continue my perusal, though, searching for another woman—perhaps this child’s mother. I only stop when Lake clears her throat.

“We were just gushing about Vivi. It’s hard to handle how beautiful his daughter is, don’t you think?”

I’m pretty sure my eyes do one of those cartoon things where they get really wide, and I kind of feel like my entire body falls forward in shock. I’m actually surprised when I don’t hit the ground. No one seems to notice my out-of-body experience, though, so maybe it’s just that I’ve actually lost my mind. Because surely Lake didn’t just say that Gavin has a daughter.

“Y—” I clear the disbelief from my throat. “Your daughter?” The words somehow find their way out of my mouth, but if I’m acting like a lunatic, Gavin has joined me in the mental ward, because he’s yet to say a word. He’s staring at me, mouth ajar, like I’m the one who just handed him the damn kid in his arms.

“Here,” my father interrupts, reaching for Gavin’s daughter—okay, I’m not sure when that word will come out easily, but right now, I feel like there’s cement in my mouth. “Hi, Vivi girl. I’m your Uncle Ford. It’s good to meet you.”

Gavin blinks twice, and his eyes clear. Then he turns to my dad, and his expression softens. The shift is probably imperceptible to anyone but me, but I know that smile. Those crinkles, the joy that radiates, the love. It’s the way Gavin looked at me for all those months.

“I’ll take that whiskey now,” he mumbles as he leans against the counter, his gaze decidedly roving in any direction but mine.

“Margarita, Mills?” Lake asks, shaking me from my stupor.

When I turn to her, the look on her face is pure pity.

She knows. She’s known for a while.

And now it’s probably obvious to her that I had no idea who Vivi was. That things with Gavin and I are so over that he went and had a baby with someone else, and I had no idea.

My nod is barely a bob of my head.

“She sleeping at night?” my father asks.

“She sleeps great. It’s me who needs to get a grip.”

“I remember those days. Wondering if they’re breathing, if the sound they made is going to result in a cry. Certain you shouldn’t even bother closing your eyes, because as soon as you do, they’ll need you.” My dad chuckles. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m doing this again.”

“Duck,” Gavin mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

My dad throws his head back and laughs, making Vivi startle, but she doesn’t fuss. “Oh, I see you’re like your brother now, huh?”

Gavin shrugs. “Figure since I’m all Vivi’s got, I better do as many things right as I can.”

My swallow is heavy. So there is no mother? I take a step farther into the kitchen, shuffling through all I’ve learned in the last few minutes. But as I ease closer to Gavin, the smell of him and his proximity steal all the thoughts from my brain, and somehow, everything else just fades away.

It’s just him…and her.

Vivi. I like that.

As I come close, she turns and focuses those deep brown eyes on me. Her cheeks—so rosy and pudgy it’s an effort not to pinch them—lift, and she claps her hands twice and squeals. She’s wearing a purple onesie, and her wavy brown hair is disheveled.

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