“That’s a pretty name. I like Tara.”
“It’s for my daddy. Mamma said he’s a handsome prince. She said that’s why I have blue eyes when hers are brown.”
A flash of emotion tightens my chest. “Where’s your mamma now?”
“Down at her new store.” The little girl’s nose wrinkles. “It’s not really new. It’s really old, but Mamma says it’s going to be the best thing I’ve ever seen when she’s finished with it. I told her I’ve seen a lot.”
“Have you?” I want to laugh. I want to pull her to me and hug her. I want Noel to be here so I can hold them both in my arms. It’s a dream I don’t deserve to have, and I ache for it in my bones.
“Are you a prince?”
“No. I’ve never been a prince.” Despite what her mother used to say.
“I can’t wait to meet my daddy.”
A flash of emotion tightens my stomach, and I’m not sure what to do about this part. How do we tell this beautiful little girl the truth?
I watch her filling in a pink tutu on the page. “What if your mamma was just pretending and your daddy isn’t a prince?”
“Oh, he is.” Her eyebrows rise, and her expression is certain.
I put the blue crayon down and pick up a brown one, starting on the trunk of a tree. “What if he’s just a regular man—like your Uncle Sawyer?”
She stops coloring and presses her cute little mouth into a pout, thinking. “Is he a hero? Mamma says Uncle Sawyer’s a hero.”
My dream of earning Noel’s love, of being good enough to deserve her permeates my mind, tightening my throat. “He wanted to be a hero… but bad stuff happened. He went to a really dark place.”
“Like Prince Phillip?”
“I don’t know him.”
Her eyes grow serious. “He was trapped in a dark dungeon but Merryweather the fairy helped him to escape. Then he had to cut through big thorny bushes and fight a dragon before he could get to Sleeping Beauty and save her from the evil spell.”
“That’s pretty dark.” I consider the metaphorical aspects of her story and figure I can work with this. “He had to do something like that… but he’s still not a prince.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Is he a good man?”
I put the crayon down and pat her little back as I stand. I want to explain everything to her. I want to tell her even though we’ve just met, I’d cut through thorn bushes and fight a dragon for her. I want to tell her I’m her dad and I love her.
“He’s a better man.”
She nods, returning to her picture. “I think that’s okay.”
23
Noel
There should be a tornado siren before Taron Rhodes is allowed to appear in my kitchen that way.
Any kind of heads up would’ve been nice.
Instead he walked right through the door like some sexy version of the Ghost of Christmas Past and stopped my heart all over again.
And broke all the eggs.
My face flashed hot and cold, and for a moment, I thought I might follow the eggs to the floor. I did not faint. Somehow, I remained standing.
Then he took one look at our daughter… No need for a paternity test to know whose child Dove is. She has looked like a pinch off her daddy since the day she made her newborn appearance.