Page 132 of My Mistake To Make

Cara giggles at Bowie’s refusal to let go of her nickname, and watching them together fills my heart up.

‘Yes, Miss Bowie?’

‘Belle and the beast get married at the end,’ Cara’s eyes widen, and her lips part as Bowie turns to me. ‘Are you getting married?’

‘Yes, sweetheart.’ I hear Cara’s intake of breath, and I grin but keep my attention fixed on my girl. ‘One day, we will.’

Bowie beams and leans forward, bringing her hands up to her mouth and whispering pretty loudly, ‘Can I wear my Converse?’

Uh, Men

Cara

Seventeen Months Later

‘Bo, are you ready?’

I call my accomplice in from the backyard and smile as the sound of her pounding feet, and Harley’s four paws echo through the house.

‘Is he here?’ she asks, and I nod yes.

‘Yes, sweetheart. Harley, to your bed.’

The big lump huffs her body into the soft bed under the living room window as the truck I’ve missed in my driveway this past week pulls to a stop outside.

‘I’m so excited.’

Bowie vibrates next to me. While Doug was in Savannah this past week working on our latest property, my wee bestie has been helping me plan a surprise here at the house, and she’s practically bursting for her dad to see it.

Opening the door, she rushes out onto the porch to greet him, and his face lights up at the sight of her.

I called him and told him I’d pick her up from school and bring her here, so to come straight to my place when he got back to town, and as he puts her down and his eyes find mine, I’m so happy that I did. My tummy flips over, and I catch my lip between my teeth as he steps toward me.

‘Hey, GC.’ I smile, and he beams, leaning in to kiss me.

‘Hey, baby. I missed you.’

‘Daddy, we have a surprise,’ Bowie squeals, and he looks between us, narrowing his gaze suspiciously.

‘You do, huh?’

‘Yep. Come on.’

She pulls his hand as he steps into the hallway and toes off his boots as she wiggles impatiently.

‘Come on.’

I laugh and follow as Bo pulls Doug to the stairs and up, and as we reach the landing, he looks back at me, confused.

‘Close your eyes,’ Bowie instructs, and Doug complies. She tugs on his hand, and I open the door so that they can step inside. ‘Open.’

I watch Doug’s expression as he takes in the room: Bowie’s room—here in my house.

‘Bo,’ he says so softly, and she bounces excitedly on the spot.

This was always her room. She’s had a bed in here, a nightstand with a wee lamp, and space for Harley, but it wasn’therroom; It was a guest room exclusively used by her. Now, it’s Bowie’s room, decorated exactly as she wanted and filled with her belongings, her trinkets and photos, her stuffed toys, and many,manybooks.

‘Baby.’ He turns to me, and I smile as I hold out my hand for his and pull him from the room, nodding to Bowie to run ahead.

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