Page 82 of Who's Your Daddy?

I get why she’s asking me this. She’s emotional and slightly insecure. She wants some kind of reassurance, but I’m so bad at this. I can barely admit anything to Scott and Dylan. I don’t even know what to say...or how to say it. Keeping my head down, I rub the back of my neck as I try to collate my thoughts into an articulate sentence.

“I mean...I like you...a lot.” Not my smoothest moment, but at least it's out.

The sadness she felt a moment ago melts away, and the light returns to her eyes. That smile. That adorable smile tugs at her lips. The one that deepens her dimple because she’s trying so hard not to smile.

“Wow. That was so...beautiful.” She clasps her hands together and pretends as if she’s swooning. “It transcended space and time. I feel like I’ve been transported...right back to the eighth grade.”

I roll my eyes. “I tried, okay?”

“I like you too, Peter.”

“Shut up.”

“And yes, I will go to the dance with you on Saturday.”

I snicker. “Give me a break, will ya? I’m not used to this sort of stuff.”

She loops her arms around me and nuzzles her nose against my neck, her bump brushing my stomach as she pulls me closer. She lets out a deep sigh of relief when my arms curl around her.

“I love how it feels when you hold me,” she mumbles against my skin. “You know, there were times when I used to feel so alone. Even when I had everything a girl could want. Jewelry and a fancy car and a penthouse – none of those things took away that feeling.” She sniffs, and I’m not sure if she’s on the brink of tears again. “But when I’m with you, my heart feels so...so full.” She tightens her arms around me. “This feels like home, Peter.”

I lightly caress her back, planting a kiss on the side of her face. “Yeah, it does. And you—” I stop when something lightly thumps my abdomen.

Lia’s eyes widen. “Did you feel that?” She grabs my hand and places it on her stomach. “It usually feels like bubbles, but that was a proper kick.”

“Was that a kick?” I look down at her stomach. “Was that you, little guy?”

She places her hand over mine and we both wait patiently to see if it happens again. And it does. One little thump against my palm and then a few seconds later, there’s another one. It’s an incredible feeling.

Pure elation spills out of me in a kind of awe-struck laugh. “Oh, my God. That’s so cool.” He responds to my voice by kicking again. “That’s a solid kick right there. He’s gonna play football like his dad.” I look up at Lia again. “He’s probably kicking me for being such a jerk to you.”

“You’re not a jerk.”

“I sure feel like one.”

I decide not to dwell on our argument. She doesn’t seem to be holding any animosity toward me or the situation, so it’s best to just drop it until she’s ready to tell me about her feud with her dad. I wait for the tap dancing on my palm to stop before I remove my hand.

“So...we were supposed to put up the crib today,” I say, changing the subject. “You wanna come up and help me?”

“Why don’t you help me down here first, then I’ll come up and help you?”

I glare at her. “You want me to help you wash dishes and cutlery that were already washed by the cleaning service two days ago?”

“I already told you. They didn’t wash everything. That’s why I’m doing it now.”

“We also have a dishwasher.”

“Which also doesn’t clean very well.”

I realize then that she’d be a lot more annoying if she weren’t so cute. This is how twisted she’s got me that I don’t even fight her on her illogical actions. I relent and walk over to my music station on the other side of the kitchen.

“Fine. You wash. I’ll dry. But let’s at least listen to some feel-good music while we work.”

She groans. “Please don’t play anything from the sixties, Lestat. Can we do something from, like, the early two-thousands?”

“Let’s compromise and play something from the eighties.” I flip through my CD case and find the perfect album, smiling when I insert the disc andHungry Eyescomes floating through the speakers. “This song just hits different, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve never heard it before.”

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