Page 4 of Whatever You Want

He angled his head to the side. “Does that mean I don’t have to hide from you anymore whenever I walk into a room?”

I groaned. “I’m so ashamed.”

He chuckled lightly. “You should be. You haven’t been very nice to me.”

“Now, who can’t help themself?” I smiled playfully. Then it hit me. This was the first genuine smile I’ve felt in a long time.

I felt oddly comfortable in a way I probably didn’t want to look at too closely. Maybe starting over wouldn’t be so bad after all.

My daughter looked two seconds away from throwing a fit.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” She folded her arms, looking around the church. I knew it wouldn’t always be like this, but she could be a handful, even at age eight.

I glanced around to make sure no one was staring at us. “Emery will be here soon. You can sit with her family once they get here.”

“They’re not here yet and I don’t want to sit alone.”

“Madison, you can sit at the end of the pew and wait for them, or you can find someone to sit with. Those are your two options.”

I tried hard not to raise my voice, but this little girl could trigger my nerves with just one look. It was almost impossible to reason with her when she was like this.

“I’m not sitting by myself,” she whined, and I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The one thing she inherited from her father was his stubbornness. Of all the good qualities that could have been passed down to her, she had to have the one that drove me insane.

“It will only be for a few minutes, so you can suck it up.” My words came out more harshly than I intended them to, but my sharp tone didn’t even faze her. I don’t ever remember giving my mother a hard time like this, and if I did, I owed her a big apology.

When Amelia asked me to be Gia’s godmother, I never imagined finding my daughter a place to sit during the baptism would turn into such an ordeal. I thought I had it covered when I arranged for my mom to come, but she called this morning and said she wasn’t feeling well. So, there went that plan.

“Can’t you stay with me until they get here?”

My frustration was growing by the second, but then again, it didn’t take much with her. “I already explained to you that I have to sit up front.”

She glowered at me. “Then I want to go home.”

I took a steadying breath and was about to respond when Logan and his daughter walked up. His eyes squinted in concern when he noticed my frown.

“Hey,” I said, trying to smile through my frustration. I was usually pretty good at hiding my emotions, but having my eight-year-old act out in a church full of people, sent whatever patience I had left flying out the stained-glass windows.

He slipped his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants and tilted his head to the side. “Everything okay?”

I’ve seen Logan in a suit a few times, but there was something different about how he looked today. His dark brown hair was short like it was recently trimmed. I owned a salon, so I knew these things. His jaw was clean-shaven, and I was trying to decide if I liked him better with or without the scruff. If I were being honest with myself, Logan Blake was one fine-looking man. But it wasn’t just his looks that pulled me in, he was charming and fun, and there was so much more to him than just his appearance.

I shook my head, reminding myself I needed to focus on settling my little “pew problem.”

“Yes, someone is just having a little meltdown over seating arrangements.” I smiled at his daughter, whom I’ve met a couple of times. She was a mini female version of her father. From her assessing eyes, thick dark hair, and crooked little smile. “Hi, Brina. Don’t you look pretty today.”

“Thanks, my dad took me to the nail shop and let me get my nails painted.” She held out her hand for me to inspect. I grinned, noticing each fingernail painted a different color. She was absolutely adorable.

“I love all those colors, and I love your dress too.” She was wearing a long pink and white sundress, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. It looked like her father had styled it in a rush, and my heart melted a little bit at the thought.

Madison lifted her dress and held out her foot. She turned so Brina could see the hair that I spent an hour on this morning. “I got new sparkly shoes and my mom did my hair in a fishnet braid at her salon today.”

“So, what’s the issue with seating arrangements?” Logan asked, stepping to the side so someone could pass by.

My daughter glared at me and shifted her gaze to him. “My mom has to sit up front and she wants me to sit alone with a stranger.” Apparently, her attitude was back, and it was embarrassing. I dropped my hands to the side and silently prayed that they would serve actual wine during communion and not grape juice.

“She was supposed to sit with my mom, but she’s sick,” I tried to explain as if that would be a good enough answer to why she was acting out.

Logan ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out. I tried to ignore the flip in my belly, but that was a bit of a challenge. He was too easy on the eyes. “She’s welcome to sit with us, right, Brina?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She looked from her dad to me and back again.

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