Page 37 of Oathbreaker

“Love it,” I say, walking over to inspect what they’re doing. “Although, I can’t remember the last time I had it.”

“Well, this is stuffed with a cream cheese mixture and topped with my special caramel-cream.”

My mouth waters.

“Sounds like heaven.”

“It’s my favorite!” Frankie announces.

“Her current favorite,” Briar corrects, laughing.

“It used to be blueberry pancakes but that’s when I was little. I’m big now.” She dips her finger in the caramel mixture and holds it out to me.

Yup, this child is going to wrap me around her finger in no time.

I lick her fingers and moan dramatically. “Holy fu—er, crap, that’s good. I’m going to get fat if I stay here much longer.”

“You have to exercise,” Frankie says, nodding. “Uncle Banks makes all the uncles work out. Mommy doesn’t like getting sweaty, though.”

Briar gives her the side eye. “Hey, you’re not supposed to tell all my secrets!”

A timer goes off, and Briar pulls a pan out of the oven.

My stomach growls.

When was the last time someone cooked for me?

Never? Certainly not my mother. Dash’s parents invited me over a handful of times, but those were big events, not something specifically for me. And none of us cooked in college.

A sudden wave of emotion I can’t identify fills my chest and I turn away. I’m not big on feelings—but Briar is the exception to that. Hell, she’s the exception to every rule, every decision, everything I thought I knew about myself.

“You can make yourself a cup of coffee,” she calls over her shoulder to me, “while the French toast cools a little. And Frankie will set the table.”

“Okay.” Frankie jumps down and reaches for dishes that were already out.

She meticulously sets three place settings—a dish, napkin, fork, and butter knife—and then climbs up on a stool.

I make coffee, Briar serves up the French toast, and then the three of us gather round one side of the island.

The three of us.

My kid and the woman I love.

This was supposed to be my life, and I just walked away. Almost died before I could tell her how I felt.

I won’t make that mistake again.

“So. Is anyone going to answer my question?” Frankie asks after inhaling the first piece of French toast.

“What question?” Briar asks in confusion.

I cough lightly, because I know what’s coming even if she doesn’t.

“Is. He. My. Daddy?”

Briar and I exchange a look, and I give her a barely perceptible nod. It’s time. Frankie already knows. And there’s no use hiding it anymore because regardless of what happens with Briar and me, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be as much a part of Frankie’s life as Briar allows.

“He is,” Briar says after a long moment.