Page 43 of One More Heartbeat
I hadn’t thought to ask Garrett what Athena looks like. Maybe I should have so I would’ve been more prepared.
Her strawberry-blond hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders and brushes the tops of her perky breasts. Her mouth is a perfect bow shape. And her eyes. Her doe-like hazel eyes would cause plenty of men to fall to their knees. The splattering of freckles across her pale, creamy skin also adds to the Greek goddess persona that goes with her name.
How many romances have I read where the hero falls in love with the nanny? The woman who is like a mother to his child?
I don’t know if I made a noise of dismay—or something a little less noteworthy—but Athena’s gaze slides from Garrett to me, and her eyes go wide.
“Hi, Athena,” Garrett says, clearly oblivious to my messy thoughts. “I hope it’s all right with you, but I brought my friend with me. Zara knew Kenda.”
“We were close friends in college and kept in contact over the years.” My voice comes out rough, the knowledge burning my throat that I will never see Kenda again.
It might be my imagination, but I swear Athena’s eyes marginally narrow. I can only imagine what she’s thinking. If Kenda and I were so close, why didn’t Garrett know he was a father? If Kenda and I were so close, why didn’t she tellme she was pregnant?
Unless Kenda pays me a visit from the other side, it’s an answer we’ll never get.
“Nina,” a small singsong voice says from inside the room. It’s followed by a giggle.
“Is that her? Peony?” My voice staggers out in an awed whisper. I don’t bother asking why Peony referred to Athena as Nina. Athena is probably hard to pronounce for an eighteen-month-old.
Athena steps aside to let us in. Garrett enters the room, and I follow behind him, conscious of Athena’s eyes watching me, judging me. And for whatever reason, I’m coming up plenty short.
The large hotel room Garrett scored came well-furnished but nothing about it reminds me of Kenda. She was all about colors, big and vibrant, much like her personality. The bedding, the love seat, and the dresser in here have a down-to-earth, mountain-cabin vibe. It’s a nice room.
A tourist pleaser.
But it isn’t the room’s aesthetic that has my heart limping into my throat. An adorable little girl is standing next to the couch, her textured curls scooped up in two high pigtails on either side of her head. She has on the cutest outfit, orange pants and a long-sleeved white top with a giant sunflower on it. An outfit Garrett no doubt bought. But it’s the bend of her lips, the way she tilts her head as she plays with the colorful blocks on the coffee table, that screams Kenda. This is her daughter. Her rip-my-heart-out and put-me-back-together-again daughter.
“Hi, Peony.” Garrett says her name with the caution of someone approaching a small animal they’re worried might bite them out of fear.
The little girl stops what she’s doing, a block in her hand, and her scared, wide eyes fix on him. Tucked under her arm is what could either be a panda or a black-and-white dog. She shifts it in front of her body like a shield. Or a cross to ward off evil.
Garrett sits on the floor near where she’s playing, positioning himself so the coffee table is between them. My heart squeezes at the picture the pair make, at how he’s trying to come off as less intimidating. And I swear my ovaries weep at just how amazing a father he already is, even though he doesn’t realize it yet.
For the longest moment, I can only stare at Peony, a new round of tears pricking my eyes. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Beautiful like her mother.
Beautiful like her father.
There’s no doubt in my mind this is their daughter. I’ve seen Garrett’s pictures from when he was a toddler. She has his eyes.
Peony’s attention shifts from Garrett to me. The fear she has for her father isn’t directed my way. Curiosity takes its place.
“This is my friend, Zara.” Garrett points up at me.
“Hi, Peony.” I smile at her, the curve of my lips gentle but genuine, and I take a tiny step forward. “I was friends with your mother.” Another slow step forward.
She doesn’t balk at my approach, and I lower myself to the floor on the opposite side of the table to her.
“What’s your friend’s name?” I point to the stuffed toy once again wedged between her arm and her body.
“Pop-py.” She holds it out for me to see. Ah, so it’s a panda, not a dog.
“Well, hello, Poppy.” I wave at it. “What are you two building?” I point at the multicolored structure on the table.
“We’re making a house,” Athena says, the smile in her voice clearly directed at Peony and not me.
“It’s nice out.” Garrett’s gaze remains on his daughter. “I thought maybe you and Athena would like to go for a walk. We could get some lunch at Zara’s café.”
