Page 48 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

“There’s a big world out there, Tay. I haven’t seen much of it, but I will someday. The twins will, too.” She sniffs. “I’m not going to raise them to live small and scared.”

“Hey.” I pluck one of the dried flowers from a nearby vase and hand it to her. “Your life is not small. You bring beauty into the world, Molly McAllister. That counts as something big. ”

“Is this some kind of Galentine’s Day moment?”

I release Molly and turn to grin at my father. “Dad, how do you know about Galentine’s Day?”

“Your nieces told me all about it when they convinced me to take them shopping for bracelet kits and something called sheet masks for their girl posse.” He makes a face. “That’s what they call it anyway.”

“Marty Maxwell.” Molly puts a hand on her hip and winks at my father. “You’re an old softy.”

“Who are you calling old, Red?” he demands, then returns her wink with one of his own. “But you’re right about me being soft, especially for my baby girl here.”

He holds out a hand. “Mind if I steal you for a dance with your not-so-old man?”

“You’re not going to get a better invitation than that,” Molly says with a wide smile and a slight nudge.

“Since when do you dance?” I ask my father as I remove my apron and step out from behind the table.

Dad puffs up his barrel chest. “Since I became a patron of the arts. Theater one weekend, then crafting, and now dancing.”

“Mom would be so proud.” I lean in to kiss his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Despite his skill on the ice, he’s not the most graceful on the dance floor. But we sway gently, and I breathe in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

“I’m sorry if I haven’t been the kind of father you needed me to be. Especially after your mom died. She was the glue who kept our family together.”

“You do okay, Dad.”

“You’re too good to me, my girl.” His giant hand holds tight to mine. “You know we call you Tink with a great deal of affection.”

“I know.” I rest my head on his shoulder .

“I mean it, Taylor.” He pulls back to look me straight in the eye. “Your mother never wanted to talk about this with any of you kids, but that gap between you and your brother? It wasn’t on purpose or because you were some kind of oops baby. Your mother lost two babies before we had you.”

Shock courses through me, along with a dull ache in my chest at what my mom must have suffered.

My father’s eyes cloud with pain. “Then you came along, so pink and perfect and healthy. Those miscarriages were hard on her. Hard on the two of us. You were the miracle that brought sunshine back into our lives.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes. “But I didn’t fit with the rest of you. I couldn’t live up to the Maxwell?—”

“Neither of us gave a rat’s ass whether you picked up a hockey stick or baby dolls.

Your mother would laugh and laugh as she watched you toddle around the house.

She’d hold you close after you fell until you stopped crying, and then you’d be off again.

She lost her laughter for a while, Tink. You gave it back to her.”

“I know you wanted me to be more like?—”

“No.” He places a calloused finger against my lips. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I’m sorry I made you think any differently. My parents were hard on me, and I didn’t want to be that kind of father. Sports gave me an outlet and a way to connect because I was shit at emotions. Still am.”

“You’re kind of killing it right now,” I say with a watery smile.

“I know you were your mother’s girl, but I love you, too. I always will.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He stops moving and puts his big hands on my shoulders. “Guys like me, the ones who have trouble with emotions… it doesn’t mean we don’t feel them. And I hope it doesn’t mean you won’t give us a chance to prove it.”

“Dad, there’s nothing?— ”

He hugs me tight, then steps away, peering over my shoulder. “Don’t fuck this up.”

I whirl around to see Eric standing behind me. Couples twirl and spin around us as the band picks up the tempo, but all I can see is him. He’s wearing a dark suit, crisp white shirt, and sky-blue tie. He looks so good it practically takes my breath away, which is nothing new.

“Yes, sir,” he says, then clears his throat when his voice catches. He offers an almost shy smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I whisper.

“May I finish this dance?”

The song fades out as he asks the question.

“Looks like you’re off the hook,” I tell him, forcing a smile.

He glances toward the stage and nods at the band’s lead singer. A moment later, the first strains of a country ballad—the exact kind Chase Calhoun warned us about—fill the air.

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Tinkerbell,” he says as he links our fingers.

I place my other hand on his tie, knees going weak at the heat radiating off his body. I breathe in his clean scent and force myself not to hope too hard. “Did you come from a funeral?” I ask, and he throws back his head and laughs as he draws me closer.

“Woman, I bought a suit to impress you.”

I blink and look up at him. My nose grazes the edge of his jaw, and the rasp of his stubble sends chills through me.

“You didn’t need to?—”

“I need to apologize,” he says, his breath warm against my skin. “For being a damn idiot.”

“My dad tells me some guys are just built to be idiots.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, “But I’m going to try to do better because…

” He draws in a shaky breath like he’s nervous.

The man who helped me find my confidence is stumbling, which makes his words mean even more when he finally finds them.

“Because I love you so goddamn much. And maybe I have no right to ask you to pick me, but do it anyway, Tinkerbell.”

The thread of vulnerability in his tone makes my chest expand so much it aches with the love I feel for him.

“Choose me over Limpdick, and I’ll?—”

“I did not choose Limpdick.” I sound breathless, my heart crashing like waves in a storm. “I know you saw him kiss me, but I didn’t want it. I don’t want him. I want you, you big dummy. I love you.”

“Why?” he blurts. “Oh shit. Don’t answer that. I’m not fishing for a compliment. That’s pathetic.”

He looks anything but pathetic with his broad shoulders and strong jaw, his dark eyes searching mine as if I’m the answer to every question he wants to ask.

“Because you are you, and you love me for me. You make me feel special. You make me feel brave.” I brush my lips along the edge of his jaw. “That thing you do with your tongue doesn’t hurt.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a whole bag of tricks I’m going to show you, if that’s what it takes.”

“You don’t need that bag of tricks, although I won’t say no,” I tease.

He leans in to kiss me. Slowly. Gently. A promise of more to come.

The fairy lights above us twinkle like stars in the sky. The scent of dried flowers, cookies, and hay hangs in the air. And the world finally feels steady. Like I’ve found my place in it. My person.

“You’re a fucking miracle, Taylor. You brought so much sunshine into my life. I didn’t even know I was living in the dark until you shined your light on me.”

I think of my father’s words about me bringing sunshine to my mother’s life and feel tears stream down my cheeks. “That’s a really good line. ”

“It’s the truth, Tinkerbell,” he says, kissing me again. “You’re my own personal jar of beautiful pixie dust. Forever.”

Then we’re swaying to the music like every sappy love song ever written was made for this moment. And I know with bone-deep certainty that I belong in this man’s arms for the rest of my life.