She wiggled with excitement. “Are we going to see Miss Becca?”

“That’s my hope.”

He peeled filthy clothing off his daughter and grimaced at the nest of dirty curls atop her head. He didn’t want Becca to see what a mess his little girl was or make it seem like he was a wreck without Becca at his side . . . Then again, maybe that was the best idea. Nah. He ran the water for Libby and added soap, and while his daughter splashed and played in the tub, he sat on the toilet and texted Becca.

HANK: Bec cvcx aserer u therrte?

HANK: casn wwe talkk?

HANK: iu wanterdf to tsdlk tro youy

He cursed at his fat fingers. The phone keyboard was so small and his fingers so big that he was sending her nothing but streams of gibberish. Even so, he stared at his phone, waiting for her to respond.

Nothing.

All right, then, he was just going to show up and ask her to start over again. To give him another shot. Hank studied Libby’s messy, sticky hair, and . . . an idea hit. He grabbed a towel. “Hurry up with the bath, Libby. You and I have somewhere to go.”

“Where are we going?” She splashed, her voice rising in volume with excitement.

“Well, we’re gonna go to a ring store, I think,” he told her, because if he was getting back together with Becca—and he wasn’t going to allow a “no” into his head—then he wanted to make sure the entire world knew she was his. That ring would stake his claim on her.

Provided she talked to him. She was probably mad about this morning. He’d gotten totally tongue-tied when she’d showed up, unsure what to say without spilling his guts at her. So he’d said not much at all, and it had somehow turned out worse than saying nothing.

What if she was mad at him now? What if that was why she wasn’t responding to his texts? He studied Libby thoughtfully. “We might go by the store, too. How do you feel about pretending to put gum in your hair again?”

“No!”

“Just pretend—”

“No, Daddy!” She slapped her small fists against the water.

He raised his hands in the air. “It was just a suggestion.” He could always just pull her hair into a messy knot and hint at it if nothing else. He’d never sabotage Libby’s hair just to get into the door of Becca’s salon, but he could pretend. “Come on, let’s get dressed so we can go into town.”

*   *   *