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Garrett cleared his throat loudly.
“We have news,” he said with mock solemnity. “It’s going to be hard to hear, and even harder to believe. But it’s real and we’re here for you.”
He looked past her. “Okay now, Stella.”
Stella could barely contain herself. She took a big gulp of air and squealed, “You’re my mommy!”
Emma blinked. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“And Daddy Garrett is my papa!”
A nervous laugh escaped but Emma killed it. She was going to correct her when Garrett squeezed her arm. She turned to face him, and everything stilled at the dead serious expression on his face.
His fake gravity wasn’t an act.
He began to speak but her frozen brain didn’t process what he was saying. She only registered small snatches likespitting image,dimple, andworried about.
A slow blink and then a small hand was on her cheek.
“Are you okay?” Stella’s worried little face appeared over her. “Papa, I don’t think she’s happy.”
Papa!Stella had gotten confused playing her family's game and somehow, she’d taken Garrett with her into fantasyland.
Emma shook her head, ready to explain how this was all a mistake when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Her mother was standing in the doorway.
Mariana’s eyes were red, shining with unspent tears.
She raised a shaky hand to her mouth, but not before Emma caught what she mouthed. “I’m sorry.”
Oh my God.
Emma bolted upright, her head swimming. She was vaguely aware her breathing was far too fast to be normal. The room was spinning.
Strong hands pushed her gently but firmly back down onthe mattress.
The ceiling continued to whirl above her and began to darken. But small hands were touching her face and Garrett’s voice in her ear, saying over and over,It’s okay, you’re okay.
She couldn’t let go. Emma beat back the dark, taking shallow breaths.
She blinked and Stella’s concerned face was replaced with Garrett’s.
Emma raised her arm—which for some reason weighed like a hundred and fifty pounds—and touched his face.
His features softened, almost glowing with warmth and love. Or they were soft. Until she flattened her fingers on his face and pushed him away—hard.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, groping until she curled her arms around Stella.
Emma clutched her daughter’s little body to her chest, hugging far too tightly.
But Stella didn’t complain. Her little face was inches away and she was beaming at her.
Stella nuzzled her, ecstatic with the best birthday present she could have possibly received.
Her dad.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
GARRETT