Page 26 of The Griffin, the Tiger, and Their House Cat Omega

Matthew:Agreed.

Even though my mates were happy about Dad coming, my sleep was restless that night. I worried. Dad was a great guy and I wanted everyone to love him.

The next day, I realized all my worries were for nothing. Dad came in on an early flight, and everyone immediately loved him. Even little Flora.

When they met, her eyes got really big. “Uncle Daddy says you’re a grandpa. Are you?”

“Do you know what a grandpa is?” Dad asked her.

She nodded. “Someone older. Someone who loves you.”

“That’s a very good answer,” Dad said. “I think you’re right. I haven’t been a grandpa before. Just Allen’s daddy. I’m part of Allen’s family, and now you’re part of his. I’d like to be part of it, too.”

She stuck her chin out and crossed her arms over her chest. When she spoke, she was very serious. “I think I’d like that.”

Chapter Seventeen

River

Flora had a part in the school play and was thrilled to invite us. She even drew special pictures—one for each of us. Those was her “invitations,” and they were adorable too. How could they not be? Flora made them.

She drew a picture of Allen with her hugging him tight in his griffin form. For Matthew’s picture he was sitting on the couch behind her head. And for me, she drew a picture of my tiger, lying in the sun with her beside me.

She’s always been an interesting kid like that—much more in tune with the beast than with the person. Our former alpha said she was going to be a leader someday, possibly a streak alpha. I tended to think she would lean more toward being a healer. But whatever she decided to do, it would be her choice.

“Are you going to tell us what your part is?” Allen asked again.

We’d all tried to figure it out. She wouldn’t even let us help her with her costume, promising us that she did it all at school. She said we’d never guess and, given we didn’t even know what the play was about, she was right.

“It’s a surprise. You will be shocked.”

“Okay. I hope it’s nothing scary.” Matthew winked.

She giggled. “I can’t be scary. I don’t even have my tiger yet!”

I didn’t want to tell her the truth—that every day since I had become her Uncle Daddy, there was an element of fear. Not of her, but of whether I was good enough to keep her alive and safe and happy.

After how tragically everything ended for my sister and her mate, it put reality at the forefront—that not everything turned out as sunshine and roses, no matter how much we wanted it to.

“All right. Let’s go.” Allen grabbed the keys.

She was already at the door.

We piled into the car and drove to the school, having to park three blocks away.

“Looks like all your friends’ moms and dads are here too,” I said.

“And some grandpas and some grandmas and some aunts and some uncles and some neighbors and some steps, but I don’t understand what that means,” she added.

“A lot of people,” Matthew agreed,

“How exciting for your theatrical debut.” I held my hand out for her.

When we got to the school itself, she ran straight to her teacher and told us to be sure to sit in the front. That was easier said than done. A lot of other parents got the same instructions from their kids, but we managed to find seats only three rows back—front and center.

The show began, the curtain rose, and I kept waiting for her to come out. But she didn’t.

There was a princess, a dragon, a bunch of dancing flowers—but no Flora.

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