Page 52 of Better Daddy
I sigh as he trips over his feet but rights himself without falling. “That went okay, I think.”
Sully nods, his attention set on our little boy. “I should have kept him around and talked up the idea of a sister too. Hopefully he’ll be happy either way,” he says under his breath.
“I’m just happy he won’t be alone like me,” I quip.
Sully stiffens and frowns at me. “You’re not alone.”
I try to smile, try to make it easier on him. Brush off the off handed remark like it’s nothing, but Sully’s frown doesn’t fade. He studies me like he knows how scared I am of the future. Like he understands that I can barely breathe when I think of a future without him in it. “Sweetheart,” his voice is a whisper as he reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve got all of us. No matter what happens between you and me,we’refamily.”
My heart free-falls in my chest. His tone is stern, but it’s sincere, his words the honest truth. And they’re exactly what I needed to hear.
Chapter 19
Sully
Across the massive dining table, Brian stares vacantly, the melancholy expression out of place, especially because it’s Christmas Eve.
“You good?”
He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. The colored lights from the tree make his face look blue, which seems to fit his mood. “I don’t know. Just feels weird.”
“What?” I need clarification. He could be talking about the enormous tree or the massive cat that’s practically on his lap or the smell of whatever Cal burned that’s still lingering in the air.
“Dad moved up to Boston with Dylan, and with everything going on, I couldn’t make the trip up. It’s weird, not being with my family on Christmas.”
Six months ago, Frank Machon relocated so he could be closer to Brian’s sister and her kids. And I’m a jackass for not even considering that Brian might be lonely.
I’ve always assumed that Brian knows that, as far as the Murphys are concerned, he’s family. We’ve been friends for twenty years, and my dad hired him straight out of law school. There’s no way he’ll ever shake us.
“You’ve got us,” I remind him, putting my thoughts into words. If I learned anything from my problems with Sloane, it’s that I have to tell people how I feel, not just assume they know.
He purses his lips, and for a second, I think he’ll argue. Instead, he nods once. “I know. But now that you and Cal have your own families…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure I belong.”
“Belong where?” Cal asks from behind me.
Brian looks at Cal, his eyes widening.
Oh bullocks. What has my idiot of a brother done now? With a grunt, I turn and assess him. Immediately, a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh leaves my lips.
“Isn’t it great?” Cal twists, shaking his arse, flaunting his ridiculous pajamas. They’re a god-awful green color and looks similar to what one of Santa’s elves would wear. The bottoms even have an arse flap.
And his name.
Daddy Cal.
I shake my head. God only knows whether he chose the name because of his relationship with his son or if that’s a nickname courtesy of Lo.
“It even has a hat.” Cal adjusts the pointed stocking cap on his head, jingling the white ball on the tip.
Brian snorts, and I can’t help but laugh.
Bloody hell, my brother looks ridiculous.
“They’re perfect, Uncle Cal.” T.J. barrels into the living room, dragging his cousin behind him.
The sight of the boys in matching pajamas—both with their names stamped on their own arse flaps—makes it hard not to smile.
T.J. bounces up and down beside my brother.
