Kellan glanced down at the unexpected, absolutely adored baby he’d made with Emma. Abigail kicked her feet, bored with the pomp and circumstance. At six, he was amazed she’d lasted as long as she had. When she started fidgeting in her seat, he nudged her arm.
She lifted her gaze.
“Need a break?” he whispered.
She nodded vigorously, a growing grin on her sweet face. He rose and urged her toward the door where they made their escape.After a trip to the restroom and a drink from the water fountain, he gazed down at her.
“Lemme see how that cartwheel’s coming.”
“I’m wearing a dress,Daddy.”
“And you’ve got shorts on underneath,” he reminded her.
Her eyes glinted.“Inside?”
He scanned the huge, empty foyer. “Is there a better place than right here?”
She giggled before performing her cartwheel. He applauded. “Not bad. How about another?”
Abigail did cartwheel after cartwheel. When she began to slow, he stopped her, sensing she’d worn off most of her wiggles. “Ready to go back inside?”
“Do wehaveto?”
He crouched beside her, eye-to-eye. “I know this isn’t easy, but Mama needs us right now.”
“Why’s she so sad? She didn’t even like Pawpaw.”
He frowned. “When did she ever say she didn’t like Pawpaw?” Emma had hated her father but had been careful what she said around Abigail, from his experience.
Abigail followed a curl in the design on the carpet as if it were a tightrope, her gaze rapt on her feet as she traversed it. “She never said it, but I could tell.”
“Oh? How could you tell?”
“She always made a face when he came into the room. And her voice got mad. And she fussed at him all the time.”
Kellan smiled. “She fussed, hmm?”
“Yeah. Kinda like you do when you’re around Grandma and Grandpa.”
Kellan winced. When had their baby girl gotten so perceptive? “Ilovemy parents.”
“Mama once told Pawpaw she loved him, but she didn’t like him very much.” Abigail lifted her gaze from her feet. “Do you likeyourparents?”
Kellan snagged his daughter into his arms, hugging her tight. “I don’t know,” he said, tickling her. “Do you likeyourparents?”
Abigail’s giggles echoed in the foyer. From farther down, he noticed a few funeral goers had appeared in the foyer and were glaring in disapproval.Excuse me for giving my six-year-old a break from all the sadness inside.He stopped the tickling, sighing inwardly. They didn’t need to add more rumors. He could see the tabloid headlines—Senator’s Son Celebrates Death of Father-in-Law with Daughter: Wife Stands to Inherit Billions.“Ready to go back in now?”
“Iguess,”she said rolling her eyes in the exact same way Emma did. Abigail was her mother’s mini-me. Kellan had a hard time seeing himself in her at all. When he did, it was usually when she was sad. He ignored what that might say about him.
Opening the door, he led his daughter back inside, where she took her seat beside Emma. Emma grabbed Abigail and dragged their girl onto her lap, hugging her tight. She inhaled Abigail’shair, her lips quirking. She reached out for Kellan’s hand and gripped it tight, too.
Sliding into Abigail’s empty seat, he changed hands and wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She leaned into his embrace, trembling. They remained like that for the rest of the funeral. When it was over, he handed Abigail over to her nanny and her freedom, while he took his place at his wife’s side while masses of mourners approached to offer their condolences.
His mother and father headed that line. His father bypassed him and grasped Emma’s hands. “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Emma.”
“Thank you, Senator Rhodes.”
Kellan bit the inside of his lip hearing the icy tone in his wife’s voice. His father wouldn’t appreciate his laughter.