“I can fight, too. Uncle Beau taught me. He said if any boys try to mess with me, I should kick ‘em in their chicken nuggets.” I chuckled. Fucking Beau… Carrie leaned forward conspiratorially and said, “But not the kind of chicken nuggets from McDonald’s. He means the—”

“Okayyyy,” Blaire interrupted. “That’s enough. I think we all know what your Uncle Beau means.” She swooped the kid up and propped her on her hip as she kissed her cheek. “We need to get home. Say goodbye, Care Bear.”

“Bye,” Carrie chirped, giving me a little wave, but I had frozen in place, feeling like someone had smashed me in the chest with a wrecking ball.

My eyes swung to Blaire, and I saw her sharp intake of breath as she realized what she had said. “Did you call her ‘Care Bear?’” I croaked, and her eyes closed in resignation as she nodded. I looked back at Carrie. Care Bear. Blue eyes. Eyes the same color as…

Oh my God.

Why hadn’t I noticed how familiar those eyes were earlier? It was so clear to me now, and I could feel myself sinking into them as they mirrored my own with an almost perfect reflection. I became aware of my jaw working as my mouth attempted to form the question, but it was like my tongue had grown to twice its normal size.

I looked at the precious little girl and forced a smile onto my face. “How old are you, Care Bear?” I asked, sounding surprisingly normal despite the shit churning through my head, and I saw Blaire flinch at my use of the nickname.

Carrie grinned with perfectly white, pearly teeth. “I’m four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. Well, you didn’t have to be a fucking genius to do that math.

Holy fucking shit.

I had a daughter. A beautiful, smart, wonderful, remarkable daughter. I blinked back tears and looked at Blaire to see that she was doing the same. She gave me an imperceptible nod of confirmation and mouthed, “Not now,” as she looked meaningfully at her child. Our child.

Yeah, okay. We couldn’t have this discussion in front of Carrie, or in the middle of Aisle Fucking Four, for that matter. Blaire put my daughter—ohmygod, my daughter!—in the front of the shopping cart as I attempted to unscramble my fucking brain. “Mommy, this seat is for babies,” she grumped, crossing her arms adorably over her chest and sticking out her bottom lip.

“Just for a second, Carrie. I need to get something out of my purse.” Blaire’s hands were shaking as she pulled a card and pen from her bag. I looked at the cutest little pouty face in the entire world and held out my hand, palm up. She put her tiny hand in my big one, and I wrapped my fingers oh, so gently around it.