Page 111 of The Single Dad Project

He’d lost his father this time last year. A sudden heart attack had taken his only parent, as his mother had left both of them before Patrick had turned two. Brooklyn and her family had been there for him. Lily had made sure his refrigerator stayed stocked. Several times a week, Milo Hayes, Brooklyn’s father, had dropped by the house he’d inherited from his father on the pretense of catching the game of whatever sport happened to be playing on television that night. And Brooklyn...

Brooklyn had been his rock. Being his ear when he needed to talk, or his shoulder when he just sat there in silence. All of them had helped him go through his father’s belongings, and it’d been Brooklyn who’d spent the night in his spare bedroom because she refused to leave him alone afterward.

Patrick didn’t know how he would’ve made it through the most difficult time of his life. And this would be his first Christmas without the parent who had molded, shaped and loved him into who he was today. The thought of decorating the house without Lionel King there to give him shit about where he was putting the tree, or how many lights he hung outside—never enough, according to his father—it sat on his chest like a hundred-pound weight. And he’d been avoiding dwelling on it.

But he should’ve known Lily would come for him.

We don’t leave family behind.

No, she didn’t. They didn’t.

“You stole that from the marines,” Brooklyn muttered.

“Excuse me?” Lily asked, sliding her daughter an arch look. “Did you say something, honey?”

“Nope. Not a word.”

“Uh-huh.” She returned her gaze to Patrick. “So tonight, five o’clock sharp. Then we can head over to the tree lighting together. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed with a smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Good.” She nodded and pulled him close for a hug. When she stepped back, she nailed her daughter with another narrowed glance. “I know I’ll see you there. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Grumbling, Lily moved to her and, cupping Brooklyn’s face and tilting it down, smacked a kiss on her forehead. Brooklyn had inherited her five-foot-two-inch height from her mother, and they appeared more like sisters than mother and daughter. They also shared the delicate bone structure, curvy frame and thick, tightly spiraled, shoulder-length curls. Although Lily’s contained a sprinkling of gray.

“Bye, you two,” Lily called, and with a wiggle of her fingers, strode off down the sidewalk.

They stared after her for several silent seconds. Then Brooklyn sighed.

“I’m the most selfish bitch walking,” she murmured to herself, but he caught it, and he frowned down at her.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“I am.” She tilted her head, and her solemn gaze took him aback. “I was so concerned with us not being around my family together to avoid any kind of slipups or stir their suspicion. All I thought about was me and our current situation. And I completely didn’t consider that this is your first Christmas without your dad. Of course I want you there with us. Youbelongwith us.”

Shaking his head, he couldn’tnotreach out to her. Not touch her. Sliding his hand over her shoulder, he cupped her nape.

“I’ve never said that about you, and I don’t want to hear you say that about yourself, either. Brooklyn, you are the most selfless person I know. This situation isn’t...simple and it’s not like either of us have ever experienced anything like it.” He paused, cocking his head. “Unless there’s something you want to tell me.” She snorted, rolling her eyes, and he chuckled, squeezing her. “Don’t apologize for your feelings. They’re valid and—” he edged closer, staring down into her eyes “—thank you for trusting me with your feelings and yourself.”

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and his fingers itched with the need to tug it free, stroke a caress over the tender flesh.

“So you’ve never called me a bitch? Not even in your head?” she asked.

“That’s what you got out of everything I just said?” He scoffed, giving her a wry smile. “But no. Never.”

She studied him for a moment. “What about crazy?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

A grin slowly widened her mouth, lighting her face. Then she tipped her head back, and a bark of loud laughter escaped her. He chuckled and drew her close, hugging her. Torturing himself with the feel of her. Punishing himself with the crisp and sultry scent of her.

“It just so happens I adore your crazy, Mrs. King,” he teased, though his pulse sped up at the thought of being able to give her his name.

No. At the thought of her accepting his name.

“See?” Leaning back, she scowled, jabbing a finger at him. “That right there. No more of that Mrs. shit. I just know you’re going to slip up tonight. You can’t hold water.”

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