Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6)(93)

Ava stopped fussing with her dress and looked up at Lance. The space between her brows furrowed into the vertical thinking-line she’d inherited from her mother. “Can Daddy really hear me?”

Angling his body so he could keep one eye on the younger girls, Lance crouched next to Ava. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She turned back to the tombstone. “I want to talk to him, but it feels weird. He doesn’t answer.”

Lance carefully considered his response. “Do you remember the funeral?”

Ava’s frown deepened. “A little. Soldiers shot guns. I covered my ears and cried. It was scary.” She shivered.

“I’ll bet it was.” Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Is he even here?” she asked, looking around.

If he told Ava her father was buried under the ground, she’d have nightmares for a week. But she asked to visit her father now and then. At seven, she was just beginning to understand the concept of death. Lance didn’t want to take any comfort away that she received from her visits to the cemetery.

“Do you like coming here?”

She tilted her head, thinking. “Sometimes.”

“Then you should come when you want to, but you can talk to your daddy anytime. You don’t need to be here. Your daddy is wherever you are. He’s always with you.” Lance tapped the center of his own chest. “Right in here.”

“Grandpa said he went to heaven.”

“I’m sure he did.”

What was she really asking? Was he flubbing this?

In the last six months, Lance had learned one good lesson regarding children. They were direct.

“Ava, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Tears filled her eyes. Her lip quivered. “At school, Emily said my daddy would be mad at me because I’m happy I’m going to have you as a new daddy.” She sniffed. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

Emily, Emily, Emily.

Why were kids so mean? How long had Ava been thinking about this?

“Emily is wrong,” Lance said firmly. “Your daddy loves you, and he wants you to be happy. End of story.”

Ava brightened. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Lance nodded.

Ava threw her arms around his neck. Then she skipped off to join her sisters, twirling in circles on the grass.

He faced the headstone again. Now what? Just leaving seemed wrong. If John hadn’t died, Lance knew Morgan would still be married to—and in love with—him. Yet, Lance felt no jealousy toward the man who had once held Morgan’s heart. Wherever John was, he was there without the woman he had loved, something Lance did not even want to imagine.

Lance bowed his head. “I’m sorry you died, John. I love your girls as if they were my own. I love Morgan too much for words, and I promise to take care of all of them. Nothing will be as important for the rest of my life.”

With a lump in his throat the size of a softball, he turned away from the headstone, gathered the girls, and herded them toward the minivan. As he buckled seat belts and car seats, Lance felt as if he’d passed a very important parenthood test.





Chapter Forty-Nine

Morgan walked onto the sand at Scarlet Beach. Her grandfather’s arm was looped through hers. In his other hand, he held his cane. He stubbornly refused to lean any weight on her. In front of them, rows of folding chairs faced the lake. The afternoon sun shimmered on the water.

Ava, Mia, and Sophie lined up in matching blue dresses. Ava was in love with the poof and lace and patent leather.

“Are you ready?” Stella asked. She wore a knee-length sheath dress the same shade as the girls’ dresses. Morgan smoothed her own dress, a column of white silk that hugged her body to just below her knees.

Wait. Where are Sophie’s shoes? Morgan smiled. It didn’t matter. The afternoon was warm and sunny.

At the end of the aisle, Lance waited for her in his dark-blue suit. Sharp stood at his side, as always. Morgan spotted Gianna and Olivia in the front row. Olivia held an iPad so Lance’s mother could watch the ceremony via video chat.

“Mommy, can I go?” Ava asked in a whisper loud enough to make all the guests smile.

Morgan nodded.

Ava walked down the aisle, tossing rose petals in front of her. Mia followed, her steps slow and measured, just like they’d practiced the day before. Sophie turned in circles and pelted the guests with flower petals.

Stella walked behind the girls to stand in front with the minister.

Morgan’s gaze went back to Lance and stayed there. His eyes held hers as she walked down the aisle toward him. Grandpa sniffed as he patted Morgan and Lance both on the shoulders; then he went to his seat in the front row between Morgan’s other sister, Peyton, and her brother, Ian. Stella took her place next to Morgan, and the girls clustered around their feet.

With three young kids, they’d opted for a short and sweet ceremony. The minister read the traditional opening, then said, “Lance and Morgan wrote their own vows.”

Lance faced her. “I promise to be your lover, companion, and friend. I will be your partner in parenthood, your ally in conflict, and your accomplice in mischief. I will make sure you always have coffee in the morning and donuts on Saturday, and I will love you with all my heart for the rest of my life.”