On My Knees - J. Kenner Page 0,111

and they were just running late. He’d thought that Betty supported his effort to become a true dad to Ronnie. And he damn sure hoped he wasn’t wrong about that.

It was bad enough that Megan was putting up barriers. He loved her like a sister, and he hated the fact that she was opposed to his decision, especially when she was in no condition to care for Ronnie anymore.

Bottom line, he wanted his daughter. And he hoped to hell that getting her wasn’t going to land them both in the middle of a family feud.

Surely it wouldn’t come to that? Would it?

He’d done so much to get Ronnie back. Taken so many personal risks. But he was all-in now, and he would do what it took. Whatever it took.

He only hoped the price wouldn’t be too high.

“It’s going to be fine,” Sylvia said, as if reading his mind. “You’re doing the right thing, and it’s all going to work out.”

He turned and saw her looking up at him, her expression so ferocious in its sincerity that it twisted him up inside. Without even planning to, he pulled her close, one arm around her waist and the other cupping the back of her head. He heard her surprised gasp, then took that opportunity to kiss her.

She melted against him, as if right then, he was the only thing that existed in her world. And that moment—that reaction—gave him strength.

He held her longer, not wanting the kiss to end, not wanting to feel that sense of loss when he let her go. So he let his lips linger on hers until he finally had the strength to pull away.

“Thank you,” he said.

Her smile was bright and pleased. “You’re very welcome, but what exactly are you thanking me for?”

“For believing in me. For coming with me. For watching my back.” He paused for no more than the length of a heartbeat. “For loving me.”

“Mmm.” She slid her arms around him again. “In that case, you really are welcome.”

They stood like that for a moment longer in the open doorway of the Stark International jet. When they broke apart, her eyes were dancing. “The crew probably wants to disembark. Maybe it’s time to brave the stairs?”

“It probably is.” He took one step, then another, with Sylvia right behind him. When he was on the third step, two cars pulled up and parked on the tarmac a few yards from the plane. The first, a dark blue Mercedes that he knew belonged to Betty. The second, a four-door Oldsmobile sedan that he didn’t recall seeing before.

“Is that them?” Sylvia asked.

But he didn’t need to answer because by the time Sylvia finished the question, the driver of the Mercedes had stepped out and gone to open the back door. He leaned in, and a moment later a small burst of sunshine leaped from the car and raced toward the jet stairs, all the way calling, “Uncle Jackson! Uncle Jackson!”

He hurried the rest of the way down, then scooped her up, enveloping her in a big hug before turning her upside down, to the child’s total delight.

“Sylvie!” Ronnie squealed when Syl joined him on the tarmac. Syl bent over to face the little girl, still locked upside down in Jackson’s embrace.

“Hey, Ronnie,” she said. “What are you doing down there?”

“Swinging! Up, Uncle Jackson! Up, up!”

He obliged her, swinging her out, then catching her and balancing her on his hip. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek and received a sloppy wet kiss of his own in return. And when she held out her arms and demanded kisses from Sylvia, too, a wash of emotion so clean and crisp that it had to be joy swept over him.

In front of them, Betty was now standing by the Mercedes, having emerged from the car while Jackson was scooping up his little girl. She was a tall woman in her early seventies with silver hair and the manner and bearing of royalty.

Now, she met Jackson’s eyes and nodded. Just the slightest tilt of her head, but it told Jackson everything he needed to know. As far as the paternity action went, Betty was on his side.

With one last dramatic swoop, he swung Ronnie down to her feet.

“Let’s go see Grammy,” he said as he took her little hand in his left. At the same time, he reached out for Sylvia with his right. She squeezed his hand, her smile bright, her eyes glistening with tears. Not of pain,