Page 67 of Fate

“Are you happy?” He squints as if he’s assessing me straight through to my soul. Fathers have that ability. I hope to have it with Cora one daytoo.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I’m happy for you.” He returns just a hint of a smile before his eyes turn to my daughter.

“And you must be my granddaughter, Cora.” His blue eyes soften instantly when he pets her soft blondhair.

Cora perks up when she hears her name. “Da-da,” she says proudly.

I’m stunned stupid as my daughter lifts her arms out toward my father. He reaches for her and expertly pulls her into his arms and against his chest. Even dressed in a suit and tie, my father manages to be approachable to a toddler he’s never met. My heart melts instantly.

“That’s my little love,” he coos to her. “Come visit with your granddad, eh?”

Kathleen comes back over to me, loops an arm around my waist, and leans into my side. I wrap an arm around her and watch while each member of my family introduces themselves to my daughter. It’s a moment I’d never imagined in a million years but one I’ll remember for a lifetime.

“See, babe, they love her already.” Kat rubs her hand down my chest warmly, and I hold it over my heart, just where I wanther.

“She’s a Davis. What’s not to love?” I quip, making her giggle.

The dining roomis bustling with activity, laughter, and people talking over one another. Cora is sitting in a high chair next to Chase’s twins, who are both in booster seats, at the table set for ten. My father should be sitting at the head of the table, but he isn’t present yet. Chloe is already sitting to the right of his chair. Ever since Mom died, Chloe has stepped in as the matriarch of our family. Cooper, the second oldest, is at the opposite end of the table. Chase and Gillian of course are as far away from Coop as possible. Even though they’ve mended fences considerably, they will never have great fondness for one another, but they’ve become civil over the years. Mostly after Chase lost Aunt Colleen to the same madman who hurt my girl and her soul sisters. I think that time gave us all a cold, hard look at our mortality and made past transgressions seem more trivial.

The staff brings in the children’s plates first. All perfectly cut up with a mixture of healthy and kid-friendly options and three bright sippycups.

“I want a weal cup, Mommy,” Claire demands loud enough for the server tohear.

“Mrs. Davis, I didn’t know. I can bring herone.”

Gillian purses her lips. “No, she’s fine. Claire, next time we have dinner here, we will tell the staff in advance. Not after. You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. Remember?”

Claire glares at the sippy cup and crosses her arms. “But it’s for babies!”

Gillian closes her eyes and takes a breath.

Chase leans forward. “Claire, use the cup and there will be dessert in it for you. I’m pretty sure I saw some home-baked cookies in the kitchen.”

On that note, Claire picks up her cup, sucks down the drink, and tucks into eating her dinner quietly.

Gillian shakes her head. “Must you always bribeher?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins.

She nudges his shoulder playfully.

The server sets plates in front of each of us and then sets another one down in front of the empty seat next to me. Just when I’m about to ask who’s missing, my father enters the room, escorting Misty, her hand resting daintily in the crook of his arm. I squeeze the hand I have casually resting on Kathleen’s thigh so tight she yelps and looksup.

What. The. Fuck.

I narrow my eyes at my father as he approaches my seat. “I found this little thing working away in my office. I figured since we were having a family dinner, she should come and eat with us. Don’t you agree, Carson?” Father directs her toward the emptyseat.

“Uh…” There just aren’t words.

He pulls back the chair to seat her. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a blue silk blouse showing more cleavage than would ever be necessary or even appropriate at work—let alone a private dinner.

Misty pushes a lock of her blond hair behind her ear. I notice belatedly that her hair is in beach waves, flowing just to her shoulders. It looks identical to Kathleen’s hair. Which is shocking because just this morning, Misty’s hair was perfectly straight and hung down past the middle of herback.

I squeeze Kathleen’s leg again, still not able to utter aword.

“See, now the entire family is here,” Charles says in a “more the merrier”-typeway.

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