Page 34 of Stealing Daddy's Heart

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” I admit, my voice trembling slightly. “It scares me how much I want this, want you.”

“It won’t be easy,” Garrett says, tightening his arms around me. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m all in.”

I nod against his chest, feeling a mix of fear and determination.

“I’m proud of what we have,” I say firmly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “Part of me wants to shout it from the rooftops. But?—”

“But?” Garrett prompts gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my back.

“I think we should wait until after the show to tell Dad and Vanessa,” I finish, the words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s so much going on, so much pressure. For the sake of all the artists who’ve put their faith in me, I can’t let anything distract from that right now. Is that okay?”

Garrett presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We’ll do this at your pace, when you’re ready.”

I melt into his embrace, relief washing over me. “Thank you for understanding.”

We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. The kitchen is quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and our steady breathing.

It feels like a bubble, fragile and perfect, separating us from the complications of the outside world.

But reality intrudes, as it always does. “We both have to get to work,” I murmur reluctantly, not wanting to break this moment but knowing we can’t stay here forever.

Garrett's eyes soften as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Last night changed everything, Skylar. For the better.”

I nod, a warmth spreading through my chest at his words. As I stand to get ready, my mind races with thoughts of the day ahead and the promise of what we've started.

Then, Garrett’s phone rings. The sudden, sharp sound cuts through the air like a knife.

Garrett picks up the phone, his face paling, his body tensing. “It’s your father,” he says, his voice tight.

I place my hand over his, stopping him. Our eyes meet, and I see surprise and understanding.

“Wait. Let’s have this moment for a little while longer.”

Garrett nods, his expression softening. He sets the phone down, letting it ring out, and pulls me back into his arms.

We’re only delaying the inevitable. But for now, in this stolen moment, I let myself believe that our love is enough.

As I rest my head against Garrett’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I hold my breath, wondering how long we can keep our secret.

Chapter 11

Garrett

The Riverside buildingpulses with frenetic energy that sets my teeth on edge. Artists dash past, arms full of canvases and sculptures that look like they were created by a toddler on an acid trip. The smell of paint and clay is so strong I can almost taste it.

A few weeks ago, this was an empty shell. Now, it's a goddamn beehive of activity, and I'm the bear that stumbled into it.

Christ, I'm out of place here. I cringe as electronic screeches mingle with a violin's wail. Is this art, or are they torturing small animals in the back room?

I press against the wall by the entrance, scanning the crowd, cataloging faces, assessing threats. Old habits die hard, especially when you're surrounded by what appears to be the lovechild of a craft store explosion and a rave.

There's no way to vet all these people. My fingers rake through my hair as frustration mounts. There are too many variables, too much exposure. This isn't just an art show—it's a security disaster waiting to happen.

It's chaos, but there's a rhythm to it. A purpose. And at the center of it all is Skylar.

I spot her across the room, her dark hair shining under the lights, that teal streak catching my eye. She's everywhere at once, giving orders like a general.

“Softer lighting there,” she tells her staff. “We're not trying to blind anyone.”

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