Chapter Twenty-Eight

David

The sun isn’t even up yet, and Scarlett’s barging into my room, a click-clack on the floor behind her. My mattress dips on both sides, and I groan internally.

Cat and I finally got home a little after ten thirty last night to find Duncan and Ava snuggled up on the couch, watching TV.

I could tell by Ava’s twinkling eyes that she had questions, lots of them. Thankfully, Duncan scooted her out before she could ask anything, then Cat and I headed off to bed. In our separate rooms. I spent the majority of the night tossing until about thirty minutes before my door opened.

I’m not ready for this conversation, and I don’t know how Cat will feel about the request.

“Daddy, are you up?” Scarlett asks in what could only be generously called a whisper. I press my lips together to keep my expression neutral.

A cold, wet nose grazes my cheek. Emmy, like Scarlett, is trying to sniff out any signs of weakness. When she hovers around my lips, I do my best to relax.

“Daddy?” Scarlett says louder, giving my shoulder a shake. I let out a soft breath and turn onto my side, the universal sign that I am indeed not up yet. But my daughter’s like a bloodhound on a scent—determined and relentless.

And Emmy, well, she is a hound, and she’s on the scent too if her small puffs of warm breath followed by insistent sniffing noises are any indication.

Between the two of them, it’s only a matter of time before they sniff out I’m faking.

The soft snapping of a door down the hallway echoes in the silence of the house, followed by determined footsteps. A feeling of hope springs through me.

“Scarlett,” Cat whispers, her velvety murmur sending flutters zipping across my chest. Not to mention relief at being rescued. “Go back to bed. It’s still dark out.”

“Cat—”

“Shhhh,” my wife chastises, and my bed bounces on both sides as Scarlett and Emmy make their way to the door.

The voices soften, followed by a gentle click as my bedroom door closes, and all three of my girls distance themselves from my room.

Scrubbing a hand up and down my face, I wait for the usual sounds of the house coming to life for the day, but pause when I don’t hear anything.

I wait, and listen. But silence is the only response. There is only one person who has been able to get Scarlett back to bed after she’s gotten up—my mom. If Cat can do that too, I’m definitely keeping her.

A tiny smile lifts the corner of my mouth and my arm covers my eyes in an attempt to get a few hours of sleep. After what feels like hours, I blow out a heavy sigh and roll to my side trying to escape the thoughts pacing restlessly in my head.

Spending time alone with Cat this past weekend has made it clear what I want, and it’s not sleeping in separate beds or being one way at home and another in public.

I want her to be my wife in every sense of the word. That means sleeping with her in my arms, next to me. Kissing her whenever I want and giving my daughter permission to call her ‘Mom’. If that’s what Cat wants, too.

I let the ‘Mom’ part sit quietly for a moment. Waiting to see if any guilt or hesitation comes up, but the only feeling I have is deep-seated calmness.

Scarlett wants it. I want it. Maybe Cat does too?

I can’t count how many times three little words almost rolled off my tongue when Cat was wrapped in my arms and close to me, but I held on to them. And I’m not sure why. Except for a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Not for me, but for Cat.

It’s okay. I’m a patient man, and can give her as much time as she needs.

Hopefully it’s not too long, because I’m a bear when I don’t get enough sleep. I make cranky Scarlett look like an angel, and my grumpy brother seem like a teddy bear.

And the truth is between this past weekend and last night, I’m running on fumes.

But despite how exhausted I am, my brain won’t stop. I push out of bed, throw on a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, and head out for a run.

The stars above have that bright, early morning glow where they literally sparkle, and the crisp air blows past me, sending a chill down my body.

I’m regretting rushing out of the house without a sweatshirt.

Turning down Duncan’s street, I notice his porch light flick on. A smile creeping along my lips.

I wasn’t sure if my brother has still been keeping up with his morning run since his marriage, but he is. Lucky me.

“Duncan!” I yell, half heartedly since the world isn’t quite up yet.

Picking up my pace to catch up to him I tap him on the shoulder and watch him fly off the ground.

He spins to face me. His eyes round, mouth open and a fist coming my way.

I duck before he can connect. Laughing, I ask, “What the heck, Dunc?”

His brows pull together and he scowls, pulling out his earbuds. “Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you! I called you from down the block,” I scoff, throwing my thumb over my shoulder.

Duncan is a total grump on the best of days, but first thing in the morning he’s the worst. I just remember why I stopped going on runs with him.

And it’s not just because I hate running. “Do you always go to punch people?”

“When they sneak up on me, yeah,” he growls. He goes to stick his earbuds back in but stops, glaring at me. “What are you doing up this early?”

I shrug, and jog away from him. When he catches up I respond, “I couldn’t sleep.”

The steady thump-thump of our footsteps can be heard as we jog side-by-side in silence down the lighted street.

Our breathing is the only other sound around us.

My head on the other hand is anything but still.

Thoughts churn like the soft rumble of a freight train making its way down the track.

Moving at a steady pace toward its destination.

Me.

“I should have slept like the dead after not sleeping all weekend.” Duncan sprints ahead of me and turns to face me, his eyes glinting, an annoying smirk lining his lips. I shake my head furiously, my face heating. “That’s not what I meant. We just talked.”

“Ava and I talk and lose sleep all the time, too.” He winks before moving back and running next to me.

I snort out a laugh. There are things Ava and I never talk about, an unspoken understanding.

Her relations with my younger brother would be at the top of that list. And Duncan knows it.

He’s doing this to get under my skin. He waggles his eyebrows, “Is that the reason you had trouble sleeping last night?”

“Well, look at you all talkative this morning.” I roll my eyes and focus on the street in front of me. I know why I’m not sleeping, and teasing me about it isn’t going to help. Getting Duncan’s take might though. So I bring up the other topic that’s at the forefront of my mind.

“Did Scarlett bring up calling Cat ‘Mom’ while she was with you?” I glance over at him and see his lips pressed together. I nod. “That’s what I thought.”

“That daughter of yours is something else,” he mutters, affection obvious in his tone.

My little girl is a handful and I know it.

But there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his goddaughter and I’m grateful to have him around.

“I think the more important question, though, is how do you feel about her calling Cat ‘Mom’?”

There’s a flip in my chest and warmth floods me. “If you had asked me four months ago if I was okay with Scarlett calling anyone besides Fiona ‘Mom’, my answer would’ve been an unequivocal no.”

“And now?”

I slow to a walk and wipe my forehead, Duncan matching my pace. “And now that person isn’t just anyone, it’s Cat.”

Running a hand through my hair, I chew on my bottom lip and try to decide if I want to talk about this feeling that’s been floating around.

Everything with Cat has felt so easy, and it all came together in a way that feels like someone planned it. What are the odds that I would adopt a dog where Cat volunteers?

“Hey Dunc? Would you think I was crazy if I told you—”

Do I really want to say this out loud?

“Too late,” Duncan slaps my shoulder, and snickers. “I already know you’re crazy. Did you forget we grew up together?”

“Ha. Ha.” A wide grin slides across my face. “But seriously…”

I blow out a heavy breath and take a moment to think about what I’m about to say. Duncan calmly watches, waiting for me to continue.

I clear my throat. “Do you think I’d be crazy if I told you it felt like Fiona had a hand in me and Cat finding each other again?”

“Would you think I was crazy if I told you I felt the same way about me and Ava?”

My gaze snaps to him, only to find he’s completely serious, his green eyes don’t hold an ounce of humor. He cups my shoulder and nods.

“I think there isn’t anything Fiona wouldn’t do for the people she loved, even if she’s not here anymore.”

I close my eyes and swallow, my throat tight. And in that moment I know one thing for certain: He’s right.