“Oh,” her friend says. “I have two, but one is my stepdaddy.”
The teacher hands me back my license and I scoop Kendall up, taking her away from here. “What do you say we go by the bakery to get cupcakes and then go to the studio?” I ask, changing the subject.
I know it works when her face lights up. “Yay!” She cheers. “I love cupcakes and the studio! Can I sing?”
“Of course.” I load her into my SUV that I had brought here from LA—the rest of my vehicles are in storage since there isn’t much use for them in New York—and head over to the studio. The bakery is right around the corner, so we park in the parking garage and then walk over to place our order for the cupcakes, so we can take them to the studio.
My parents are both in the studio when we walk in, and Kendall runs over to give them a hug. “We brought cupcakes!” she tells them excitedly. “And Easton said I get to sing and make music.”
Mom lights up. She loves Kendall as if she were her own granddaughter. “Have you been writing any music?”
“Yes. Me and Easton wrote a song. Right, Easton?” Kendall looks at me with wide eyes. Every night when I’m writing music, she’ll join me and help. It’s so damn adorable.
“Yep, Reggie and I are going to work on the instrumentals for it today.” Reggie is one of Blackwood Records’ producers, and in my opinion—aside from my dad—the best. “You going to help us?”
“Yes.” Kendall takes the box of cupcakes into the control room and climbs onto a stool next to Reggie. “Want a cupcake?” she offers. “They’re super yummy.”
Reggie grins and takes one. “Thanks, Little Miss.”
“Hey, Easton, check out what came in today,” my dad says, handing me a box. “Your mom wanted to save it for the baby shower—”
“But your dad is too excited,” Mom finishes, playfully rolling her eyes.
I open up the box and inside is a tiny onesie. I pull it out and read what’s written on the front out loud. “My daddy makes music at Blackwood Records.” I flip it over and, on the back, it reads, “Future musician in the making.”
I can’t help but tear up. I have a picture of me in the same onesie when I was little. My mom had it made when my dad first started Blackwood Records. “Thanks, Dad.” I give him a hug. “This is awesome.”
I put it back in the box and sit on the stool next to Kendall, who is staring out at the empty sound booth instead of eating her cupcake.
“Hey, something wrong with your food?” I nudge her side.
“No,” she whispers. “I’m tired. Can I go lie down?”
Her not devouring her cupcake is the first red flag. Her head down and not looking at me is the second. And the fact that she rarely takes naps anymore without her mom making her is the third. “Hey, K. Look at me.”
Her glassy eyes slowly meet mine and the sadness in them has my stomach roiling. “What’s wrong?”
“Baby Camden has a daddy, and you have a daddy, and my friend Tiffany has two, but I don’t have a daddy.” She shrugs.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” I say to everyone in the control room. They quickly exit, leaving Kendall and me alone. This conversation was supposed to happen later, with her mom, but I can’t spend another second with her thinking she doesn’t have a dad.
“K, do you know what a daddy is?”
She thinks about it for a second before she says, “A daddy loves his baby like your daddy loves you and you love baby Camden in Mommy’s belly.”
“That’s right. A daddy is someone who loves their children, but they don’t have to be babies. Do you know that I love you?”
Kendall’s eyes widen slightly. “You do?”
“I love you very much, just like I love Camden and my dad loves me. How would you feel about me being your daddy too?”
“You can be my daddy?”
“Of course I can. I love you, and when your mom and I get married, I want you both to have the same name as me.”
“My name won’t be Kendall anymore?” She gnaws on her bottom lip nervously.
I stifle my laugh. “I meant your last name. Your first name will still be Kendall, but instead of Davis, it will be Blackwood.”
Her little mouth breaks into a smile. “Like my brother? Camden Rocco Blackwood?”
“Yep, we’ll all have the same last name. You’ll be Kendall Naomi Blackwood and your mom will be Sophia Marie Blackwood. What do you think?”
“Can I call you Daddy?”
“You absolutely can,” I tell her, lifting her into my lap. “As a matter-of-fact, it would make me very happy if you did.”
“Can I tell people you’re my daddy?”