Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(106)

“Uh-huh.”

“Is that where your daddy lives? In Boone?” he asked Ava Grace, shifting in his chair to face the little girl. Since he and Laire had found each other again, she’d been reluctant to talk about Ava Grace’s father. Maybe this way he’d get some answers.

“Nope. Boone’s where Uncle Pat and Aunt Sam live.”

Pat and Sam. Hm. Her father’s siblings, maybe?

“My daddy’s a prince,” said Ava Grace matter-of-factly, pulling her juice to the edge of the table and sipping from the straw.

“A prince,” he repeated dumbly, shifting his eyes to Laire and waiting until she looked up from her coffee. When she did, her face betrayed nothing. She just stared back at him, her sea-green eyes concealing whatever was going on in her head. Frustrating.

“What kind of prince?”

“Dark-haired,” said Ava Grace.

“What else?”

She shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Sure you do. He’s your dad,” said Erik.

“That’s enough,” said Laire, her voice holding a warning.

“Nope.” Ava Grace shook her head. “I never seen him. But since he’s a prince, I’m a princess. That’s for sure. Right, Mr. Mopples?”

Wait. Ava Grace didn’t know her father? So who was her father? A one-night stand? His heart cracked a little at the thought of his modest girl giving herself away so cheaply. Had she even known this guy? Or was he some unknown sperm donor? Had he been kind to her? Gentle with her? Loving? He hadn’t used protection, that’s for damn sure. Had he stuck around long enough to help her during her pregnancy? Had he been there when she gave birth, holding her hand, telling her that everything was going to be okay?

Fuck. If Erik ever got his hands on him, he’d—

“Here we go!” said Kelsey, arriving with pancakes and bacon for Ava Grace, oatmeal for Laire, and two eggs over medium for Erik.

He stared at the plate but couldn’t eat. His appetite was gone.

“Erik,” said Laire, her voice soft as Ava Grace spoke animatedly to Mr. Mopples about “the best pancakes in the universe.”

He looked up, his expression surely shattered by his train of thought, by what she’d gone through alone—all because she’d believed that Vanessa was his girlfriend. How he wished he could go back in time and take his chances in telling his mother the truth. How he hated that his deception, meant to protect Laire, had hurt her instead.

He focused on her eyes and found them soft and gentle, almost as though she knew what he was thinking and wouldn’t let him blame himself. “It’s okay, Erik.”

“It’s not,” he bit out.

Laire reached across the table and took his hand, lacing her fingers through hers. “It is now.”

He could see it in her face, in her expression, that she was at peace with whatever had happened. And if she, who had gone through it, could bear it, he would bear it too.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. Her glance flicked to Ava Grace, and her eyes softened further. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

He tightened his grip on her fingers, his heart throbbing with love for her.

“Mr. Mopples,” said Ava Grace with a giggle. “Mama and Oscar are holdin’ hands.”

And suddenly whatever sad spell had overcome him was broken, and he pulled Laire’s fingers to his lips, kissing them as he grinned at Ava Grace over the back of her mother’s hand.

“You okay with that, little miss?”

She shoved a forkful of pancakes in her mouth and nodded. “Yup.”

He looked back at Laire, who was watching them thoughtfully, her lips turned up, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“Me too,” she whispered.

***

After breakfast, Erik headed out to Utopia Manor to meet his parents’ insurance adjuster while Laire and Ava Grace took a ride to Judith’s condo. Because it was on the second floor, it hadn’t suffered any water damage during the storm, and the last Laire heard, the power would be restored by the third. Just three days. She and Ava Grace would be able to move in—move home—soon.

They moved some boxes from the back of the Jeep up the stairs, placing their small pile of belongings in the living room so they’d be ready to unpack once the power was back on. While Laire checked e-mails on the complex’s functioning Wi-Fi, Ava Grace and Mr. Mopples visited with her other stuffed animals. Then Laire locked up their new home and drove them back to the Pamlico House to get ready for New Year’s Eve.

Erik was joining them at five o’clock for pizza, cupcakes, Champagne, and apple juice, and by the time he arrived, knocking on the interior door that separated their adjoining rooms, mother and daughter were ready to welcome him.

They sat on the floor, having a picnic—Erik and Ava Grace picking the pepperoni off their slices while Laire took their extra pieces and heaped them on her own. This morning, when Erik was asking about Ava Grace’s father, she was tempted, for just a moment, to tell him. To give him a look or slide him a note across the table that simply read, She’s yours, but no matter how wonderful he was with Ava Grace, she still didn’t know how he would react to finding out that she was his. She couldn’t risk telling him in front of her. After their daughter was asleep tonight, Laire would tell him . . . and he’d either embrace the idea of them in his life, or not. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies as the minutes ticked by.