“Let’s do this.” My jaw flexed, and I took the pen my attorney offered.
Asher brought the notary into the room as Houston finished going over the details of Tiffany signing over her parental rights, and the delivery of the child-support payment.
It took less than a minute for Tiffany to sign away her rights.
She pushed up from the table and retrieved a folder from her bag, passing it across the table. “As promised. Her birth certificate and medical records.”
“Thank you.” I took the folder and opened it. May fourteenth. Skye’s birthday was May fourteenth. A lump formed in my throat. It was such a small fact, but knowing meant everything.
I looked up just in time to see Tiffany walk out the door, her lawyer following close behind her. That was it. The whole thing was over.
I sagged in my chair and rubbed my hand over my face.
“I’ll take care of these,” Houston said, gathering up the papers before he took off.
Silence filled the room, but my thoughts were deafening. What had I just done? Paid her off? Bought my daughter? Should I have pushed her to accept visitation? Would Skye hate me for this in ten years? Would Fiona have agreed with the settlement? Or would she have balked at the exchange of money and non-disclosure agreements?
“I think I know just what you need,” Asher said somewhere in the distance.
Was there any way to sanitize the reasoning Tiffany had just laid out so Skye didn’t feel abandoned? How the hell could I possibly make up for what Skye had just lost in the last hour? Selfish and shitty as Tiffany was, she was still her biological mother, even if she didn’t want her.
The door opened, and a second later, Skye was in my arms.
She gave me a drooly smile as she clutched at my face with surprisingly strong fists, babbling something incoherent. The pressure in my chest eased up and I took my first full breath in days.
I kissed her forehead and breathed her in. Yeah, the last twenty-four hours of anxiety and stress had been worth it to know that she’d never be abandoned again. Had I paid a million dollars for that security? Absolutely. And I’d do it again to keep her safe.
The seats around me filled. Maxim to my right, then Mila, Evie, Langley, Axel, Sterling, and London.
“Where’s the rest of the team?” I asked, stroking Skye’s back. She was wearing a Christmas-themed outfit Fiona had picked up recently.
Fiona.
“Making sure Tiffany gets to her car,” Maxim answered.
Suddenly, the reality of what I was facing smacked me in the face. “I’m going to need help.”
“We know,” Langley answered.
“Fiona…” I started, but I couldn’t get another word past the fucking boulder in my throat.
“We know about that, too,” Evie added, her voice soft. “She’s the one who called me, remember?”
“Right.” I shook my head. “The last few days have been a blur. We were fighting because I’d told the press that she was just the nanny—”
The girls around the table gasped.
“—and then Tiffany showed up, and now we’re here.” I swayed gently, patting Skye’s back out of habit.
“Just. The. Nanny.” Langley’s eyebrows rose.
I flinched. “Yeah. I was trying to give her some privacy. The press was all over Skye, and Fiona had made it clear she wasn’t ready to define what we were, and the whole ring thing didn’t exactly work out in my favor—”
The women gasped again.
“You proposed?” Mila’s eyes widened as she grinned.
“Kind of?” My face scrunched. “I pretty much fucked that part up, too. She said she needed time, and I thought that was what I was giving her.”
“By publicly declaring that she was just the nanny?” Langley looked at me like I was the stupidest man on the planet.
“Okay, why don’t we handle the logistics of his life, and then try to solve his issues in his love life?” Axel suggested.
“Good idea,” Maxim agreed, even though I was pretty sure I heard him mutter “just the nanny” under his breath with a tone of disgust.
“We’ll help out!” Mila offered.
“How about, I’ll help out,” Evie corrected her, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Because Mila, I love you, but you’ve never changed a diaper in your life.”
“True,” Mila agreed with a shrug. “But I’ll keep Aunt Evie company while she changes your diapers, Skye,” she sang in a baby-talk voice at my daughter.
“You sure you have time?” I asked Evie.
Every head turned her way, and she flushed, sinking back in her chair as if the attention was too much for her. She never sought the spotlight like Mila. Even her clothes—baggy sweatshirts and jeans, seemed like they were chosen more for camouflage than fashion. “Finals are over, and I’ll need all the money I can get to cover the apartment on my own with Mila studying abroad next semester.”
“I told you I’d help—” Mila started, her brow puckering with worry.
“And I told you that’s not fair. I’ll figure it out,” Evie argued. “You’re my best friend. I’ve never once asked you for money just because you come from it, and I’m not about to start now.” She was the shade of a tomato.
Maxim spoke up then, concern furrowing his brow. “I can give you—”
“Absolutely not,” Evie snapped, meeting his gaze for only a second before looking back at me. “Like I said, I’ll take whatever babysitting job you can give me, Brogan. At least until classes start back up again in January.”
“I’d appreciate the help.”
She smiled and nodded. “And I’m happy to give it, starting tonight, since you guys have a game. I’ll be at your house at four.” She left no room for argument, and I nodded in response.
An hour later, I carried Skye into the house. It was barely noon and not quite time for her nap, so I set her in her jumping contraption and started making us lunch.
I opened the fridge and reached past Fiona’s apple juice for the yogurt Skye liked.
Fiona.
No wonder the house felt so…cold. It was missing Fiona’s warmth, the joy she brought to it with her laughter and love.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, putting the food on the counter. “I don’t love you because of Skye,” I said to no one, declaring my decent into insanity. “I love you because you make me laugh. Because you make me feel. Because you make me see the world through a different point of view. I love you because you are scared to death of commitment, but you’re trying your hardest. I love you because you’re smart, and funny, and kiss me like I’m a meal and you’re starving.” I slammed my hands down on the cold granite. “Why the fuck couldn’t I just say that?”
Why had my tongue tied when she’d asked me? Why hadn’t she given me just a fucking minute to get my words in order? Why had she coaxed me from my emotional stagnation just to turn her back on me when I stumbled?
I rubbed at my chest. Missing her fucking hurt, and it had nothing to do with Skye. Did I think that she was the perfect mom for my daughter? Absolutely, but that was just one of many reasons that I loved her. Maybe I’d pushed her too far too fast, but damn it, I hadn’t meant to propose. Not yet.