Forever Curves - Piper Sullivan Page 0,27

wide grin. “I can take Mariana outside if you’d like. There’s barbecue and soda pop and a whole table filled with desserts.” Her blue gaze darted between me and the angry woman for approval.

“It’s all right,” she finally said. “Go on, Mariana.”

Brenna held out her hand patiently until the little girl took it, and guided her out of the kitchen and into the backyard. “Chocolate or sprinkles on your ice cream?”

“She’s good with her. That should make this easy for you.”

“Oh, we’re not a couple,” I insisted. “She’s a friend.”

“Right.” She shrugged off a backpack and dropped it on the counter, rifling through it until she produced a folder packed with documents. “Legal documents, including Mariana’s birth certificate which lists you as the father.”

“That doesn’t mean…never mind.” I wasn’t a jerk, and I remembered that Alyssa wasn’t all that experienced in the world of casual sex. Besides all that, Mariana could be me or either of my brothers when we were kids. “I’m not ready for a child.”

“Neither was Alyssa. You think single and abandoned was how she envisioned becoming a mother?”

“I didn’t abandon her, I didn’t know about the child.”

“And you never called her again, did you?”

I didn’t. “She knew my stay in Nashville was temporary. I spent the ensuing three years on missions, but if she’d left a message it would have gotten to me, so don’t lay your blame at my feet.” I would take responsibility for a lot of things, but not for something I knew nothing about.

She sighed. “You’re right. I tried to get her to look for you, to find you, but she didn’t want to interrupt the important work you were doing. But Alyssa isn’t here anymore, and she wanted you to have Mariana.” She produced an envelope from the folder with my name on it. “She left you a letter. I’m going to say goodbye to Mariana, for now, and don’t you even think of keeping me from her.”

“You’re family to her, then you’re always welcome. I guess.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “See? You’re learning. Good luck, Grant Lucky Lopez.”

“Hey. What’s your name?”

“I’m Luna.” Then she was gone and as I watched her slow, sluggish footsteps towards the little girl, I realized how hard this was for her too.

Inevitably I thought of how significantly my life had just changed. A father. In charge of a child, responsible for her well-being. This wasn’t the same as leading a unit, as taking care of my guys. This was a little girl, a child who would rely on me for everything.

Then another thought came unexpectedly. I missed so much. She was seven years old and we were strangers, expected to now live together, share a living space and a home. To learn to love each other.

Shit, I’m not ready.

It was a lot to take in, and I gave myself a long moment to think. To plan.

Brenna

A child.

Grant is a father. No, not just a father, he is the father of this precious little girl with big sad brown eyes. And his identical dimple in her cheek. There it was, the deep dark secret that I’d been waiting for, only it wasn’t all that deep or dark. Grant had a surprise kid, that’s all.

She looked up at me with curious eyes and gave my hand a small squeeze. Her pigtails were crooked and she had chocolate ice cream smeared across her rosebud lips. “What should we fix first, your pigtails or the chocolate on your face?”

Instead of answering, Mariana swiped the chocolate with the sleeve of her denim jacket and realized her misstep. “Oh. Sorry. Auntie Luna said not to do that.”

I shrugged. “That means I get to fix your hair.” I turned her around and put her on my lap. “Your hair is beautiful. So soft and thick.”

“Are you my new mama?”

“No honey, I’m not. But I can be your friend since it looks like you’ll be staying here for a while.” I knew Grant well enough to know he wouldn’t abandon his child now that he knew about her. “There, your hair is all fixed.” I pulled a mirror out of my purse and let her inspect my handiwork.

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Call me Brenna. If we’re gonna be friends, then you have to call me Brenna.”

She turned with a small smile. “I’m a kid. We can’t be friends.”

“Who says?”

My question confused her and Mariana shrugged. “I dunno, but grownups and kids aren’t friends.”

“Then maybe you and me can be the first? I don’t mind