on Momma’s lap?”
Emma must have sensed that something momentous was afoot, because her eyes widened momentarily before she climbed down off the stool and came to stand before Colette’s bent knees. “What about your lemonade?”
“We can have it later.” She reached for her daughter’s sturdy little torso and lifted her up onto her thighs. “Mr. Whitfield and I have something important to tell you first. Remember?”
Emma’s blue gaze, so like her father’s, skipped to where Stephen now sat, across from their scarred kitchen table. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you remember that Momma used to live in a place called England before she had you?” “Like Mr. Whitfield?”
“Yes, just like Mr. Whitfield. And when I lived there Mr. Whitfield and I … we were friends.”
Emma stared at Colette, her expression curious and not at all alarmed. “Is he still your friend?”
I doubt it. “Yes, sweetheart. He is. And he wants to be your friend, too.” Colette felt her stomach pitch as Emma’s compact body twisted to look at her father. “Would that be all right with you?”
“You wanna have play dates with me?” she asked, her small brow furrowing.
His eyelashes flickered for an instant, betraying a nervousness she’d have thought him incapable of feeling and sending a sharp lurch through her chest. “Absolutely,” he answered with a smile, and his blue eyes were filled with a tenderness Colette had never seen before. “But only if you want me to.”
She paused for a second, studying Stephen where he sat. “Do you have prince clothes?”
“Prince clothes?”
“For Beauty and the Beast.”
He cocked his brow at that, a disarmed smile tugging at his mouth. “Do you think I’m a beast, Emma?”
The trill of her giggle diluted some of the tension in the room as she nodded. “'Course I do! You’re gigantic!”
“In that case, I think I can probably come up with some prince clothes.” He angled a look at Colette. “Do you think a tuxedo would suffice?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling despite herself. Hauling in a stabilizing breath, and praying that her voice held steady, Colette brought the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Emma?”
Emma looked over her shoulder at Colette. “What?”
She tried to keep her hands from tightening too much about Emma’s body. “It turns out that Mr. Whitfield here is more than just a friend.” She offered a comforting smile. “To us, at least.”
Curiosity lit her baby’s eyes. “He is?”
“Yes. Mr. Whitfield is …” Her smile lost a bit of its moorings as she lifted shaking fingers to brush back a wayward curl from Emma’s upturned face. “Mr. Whitfield is your daddy.”
Emma stared at her with wondering eyes, her expression slowly transforming from curiosity to surprise. “My daddy?” “Yes.”
She turned back to Stephen. “You’re my daddy?”
“I am.” His deep voice held none of Colette’s unsteadiness, but she could detect the note of emotion underlying the words nonetheless.
“But Momma said my daddy lived far, far away,” she said.
Colette fingered the soft curls at Emma’s neck and answered. “He used to. He lived in England for a long, long time. But now he’s here,” said Colette. “And he’s very excited to have you as his little girl.”
Emma nodded slowly, processing this new development in her small, insulated world. “Is he gonna take us to live in England now?”
Colette ran a reassuring hand down Emma’s back. “No, sweetheart. We’ll stay right here, just like we always have.”
“And he’s gonna live in our house?” she asked.
“No, he’ll have his own house,” she rushed to answer before Stephen could. “But he’ll visit lots of times, and maybe you can visit him sometimes, too. Would you like that?”
Emma cocked her head, her expression skeptical. “Is your house far away?”
“I live at the hotel where your momma works right now, but maybe you can help me pick out new place to live. One that has a special room just for you.”
“Can you get a castle?”
He smiled and exchanged a quick glance with Colette. “I don’t know if there are any castles nearby, but we could certainly look.”
“'Kay.”
He leaned back to withdraw a small box from his suit pocket. “I’ve brought a present for you as well, if your momma says it’s all right for you to have it.”
Emma gasped and immediately turned to Colette. “Can I?”
Colette’s heart skipped a beat as she nodded, realizing she’d opened the door to losing her little girl to a parent with more money, more toys, and the ability to fulfill every material wish in a way she never could. “Of course you can, sweetheart.”
Stephen nudged the white