Page 7 of Jett

Except for Jett.

After that, something shifted. I call him Mr. Knight when he strikes at something, and I don't care to analyze it.It's usually a moment when he’s annoyed me, or he’s said or done something that causes an inappropriate image to flash through my mind.

“Take the money, Cari.”

“I will not. I’m honored that Brooke invited me. Please let her know that I’ll be there.”

One day soon, I’ll have to find the strength to walk away from this man.

But not today.

Chapter 4

JETT

I've messed up again. I'm an hour late for my little girl's party.

I'm the only parent she has, and I should have done better. I should havebeenbetter. I should have come back a day earlier, like Cari said, instead of being adamant about attending an important meeting this morning.

I walk into the opulent hotel lobby, carrying two big bags of gifts, scanning for Brooke. The hotel is elegant—fancy but whimsical, just like my little girl wanted. Cari has done a great job. We follow the hotel receptionist as she leads the way, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink when she realizes who I am. Now she seems slightly flustered.

“This way, Mr. Knight,” she says, breathlessly.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Alicia asks, already putting a damper on the day. It’s not the reaction I want my girlfriend to have, not when it comes to my daughter. We had a few good days to unwind, but lately, I'm starting to realize she's never satisfied. All my girlfriends seem to follow the same pattern—they start out sweet and understanding, then slowly, inevitably, become more demanding. They don’t show it so much at first, but over time I see how they avoid doing things with Brooke. Alicia and I have been together for almost seven months, and it’s usually around this time that I start seeing the cracks.

The women I date want me, not my daughter. But my daughter is my life and she’s always number one in my world, even if I’m still adjusting to this “daddy” role. I want her to have the best of everything, because I feel so bad that she doesn’t have a mother. I try to make up for that loss and vow that I will be better, but there’s always another deal or the lure of more money.

“You can go now, if it's too much for you.” I don’t even look at her.

She squeezes my hand. “Don’t be like that.”

The receptionist opens the door to the large room, and the sound of children’s laughter and excited chatter fills the space. My eyes widen.

The room is magical—elephant decorations, and elephant-shaped lights strung across the ceiling, and a dreamy pastel color scheme that makes it look like a fairytale. Brooke wanted a Cinderella theme—with elephants—and Cari made it happen. My little girl sits in the front row with her back to me, her silky long brown hair cascading down her back. She’s wearing a sparkling blue dress, her tiara perched perfectly on her head. She really thinks she’s Cinderella today. My heart aches. I hate that I wasn't here from the start.

“Holy shit,” Alicia murmurs, sounding awestruck. “Thisis your daughter's party?”

The room is filled with a myriad of delights—a pink-and-blue balloon arch, a popcorn stand, a cotton candy station, a chocolate fountain, and a candy buffet. I wonder if Cari was inspired by Tobias Stone’s Christmas party. This is magnificent. There’s an elephant pinata suspended in the air. A woman paints children's faces, and a wizard entertainer, complete with a pointed hat, does magic tricks at the front.

“This is your daughter’s birthday party? Isn’t she just five?” Alicia drawls. Her voice lacks warmth—there's something bitter laced in there.

The wizard calls Brooke to the front, and she eagerly jumps up, her eyes glittering with excitement as she runs over carrying her beloved tattered elephant. I facepalm. She takes that plushy with her everywhere. We bought it soon after she was born. To this day, it’s Brooke’s favorite toy, though it looks all battered and tattered now. She has a butterfly painted on her cheek, and the sight of her joy brings a smile to my face. The wizard makes balloon animals for her, but each time he hands one to her, it pops, and Brooke bursts into laughter, joined by the other children. My heart swells. She’s everything to me.

“She is. Cari did well,” I murmur, my gaze sweeping across the room as I look for a place to drop her presents. I’ve been taking note of everything Brooke said she liked, and bought her everything.

My father says I shouldn’t spoil her, and that kids who have everything grow up to be brats. My brothers and I didn’t have big parties, or get lots of presents. No cars on milestone birthdays, or expensive watches. Yet ours was still a privileged life. I realize that now. We lived in expensive homes, had the best education, and we didn’t want for anything.

Except maybe love from our father. It was the important things he skimped on—love and spending time with us. I’ll never deprive Brooke of the former, and I’m trying to get better with the latter.

It was our mother who gave us the most special and priceless of things. She would spoil us with days out creating memories, moments I hold onto even now. She’d insist on baking our birthday cakes and spending the entire day together, just my brothers and my mom. My father was always absent. He was too busy building the Knight empire.

“Who?” Alicia asks.

“Cari.”

“Yourassistantdid this?”

“Yeah.”

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