Putting him off was stupid and irresponsible. My actions honestly made no sense, but I wasn’t making a lot of sense lately. Two hours, two days, two weeks. What did it matter? Any timeframe would be too soon for my taste. Better to rip the Band-Aid off all at once and get it over with.

Still, I hedged. The sooner Easton got involved in the kids’ lives, the more I’d see of him. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle his presence in my kids’ lives and, even worse, in mine.

Junie was doing her nails, while Rusty sprawled on the couch next to her. I slumped in the nearby chair. The thing was one of those uncomfortable hotel chairs that wouldn’t be comfortable no matter how you sat in it.

“You need a glass of wine,” Juniper said.

“Tell me about it. It’s been a long day.”

Junie sent a sympathetic smile in my direction and turned back to her nails, which she was painting a bright orange.

“Aren’t you a little late for Halloween nails?”

“These are fall nails, you know, Thanksgiving colors.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

A sharp rap on the door startled both of us. Before we could react, Hailey leaped to her feet and scurried to the door. I yelled after her, but she ignored me. She knew better than to open the door to a stranger, but she was mad enough at me to ignore my warnings and do it anyway. I hurried after her, but she beat me to the door.

She swung the door wide open and stared at the large man taking up the majority of the doorway.

“Well, hi there.” Easton grinned down at her.

Chapter Twelve

Not Alone

~~Easton~~

The little girl who gazed up at me was the spitting image of her beautiful mother. She had large blue eyes and long golden hair, while the stubborn set of her jaw reminded me of myself. She planted her little hands on her hips and narrowed those pretty eyes in what I interpreted as a hostile glare, so out of place on one so young.

Her obvious dislike at first sight set me back on my heels. In my naïve imaginings, I’d pictured her running up to me and launching her little body into my waiting arms. We’d laugh and hug, and I’d spin her around and around until we were both so dizzy, after which I’d have to collapse in the nearest chair. She’d call me Daddy, and my heart would fill up with love every time she said that one amazing word.

“Who are you?” she demanded. I blinked several times, unable to construct an explanation.

A little boy came to a stop behind her as if he had her back. He, too, planted little fists on his hips, legs slightly spread, and scowled at me. My son. Dark brown eyes, dark hair with a mind of its own, and a sturdy little body. He was mine, all right. I had no doubt they were both products of my genetics and Caro’s. How had she not noticed sooner? Why hadn’t she voiced her concerns to me as soon as their parentage became obvious? Why had she kept me in the dark? Caro was such a by-the-book person, I found it really hard to believe she hadn’t a clue.