Chapter 43

Present

"Miss Grace," Kenzie said, eyes trained on the colouring page in front of her as she carefully filled in the horn of a unicorn. "Can I ask you a question?"

It was early afternoon, and while we'd intended to spend the majority of Grace's visit out in the yard playing games that would serve to tire Kenzie out, the weather had had other plans. No sooner had we packed up the remnants of our picnic and grabbed out a ball to kick around than the skies had opened up, releasing a down pour and chasing us inside. So instead, we'd had to find indoor activities.

We started by reading the book Grace had brought along, played a game of Mouse Trap, had a teddy bear fashion show using the outfits Ella had sewn over the years, and now we were settled on cushions around the coffee table in the living room. According to Kenzie, we were having a colouring competition, but I had a feeling the deck had been stacked against me. Both Kenzie and Grace were colouring glamourous unicorns, but the picture my daughter had handed me was a dog. Not even a cute one.

"Of course, you can," Grace replied easily, reaching for a fresh pencil. "You can ask me anything."

I met her gaze across the small table and smiled. Having her over to hang out was a stroke of genius. Not only did it give me a chance to see how compatible she was with Kenzie, but it allowed me to see a different side of her. I was already familiar with the compassionate and helpful hair-teacher. And I'd come to adore sexy, flirty date-Grace over the last few weeks. But having her at home like this, spending time in a family setting, she'd revealed a softer side to her personality. It was caring and warm. Not that she wasn't caring and warm in the other settings as well but watching her with Kenzie just gave me fuzzy feelings in the pit of my stomach and made me want to melt.

Past me, the play boy who refused to allow attachments to any woman, would be appalled by my state of squishiness, but I'd come to realise over the last five years, that although I was constantly laughing and cracking jokes, deep down Ladies' Man Les wasn't happy or content. He was just chasing a feeling of connection in all the wrong places. Even the dates I'd been on in the last three years since Phoebe died had never been serious, though the years trapped in a loveless marriage might have contributed to that attitude.

Now, though, it was like someone had lifted a veil that had been hanging over me, and I was finally experiencing what a truly meaningful relationship was for the first time.

When Grace smiled and returned her attention to her colouring page, I slid my gaze over to Kenzie, waiting to hear whatever question was circling her head.

She didn't look up from her task, but her pencil strokes became slower, more deliberate as she frowned in concentration. "What's it like to have a Mommy?"

My chest constructed painfully. Who gave this kid permission to rip my heart out of my body?! Oh wait, I did. Every day. I loved her so much that even hearing that small, innocent question that spoke volumes of the thoughts that flitted through her mind minute to minute had the power to disarm me. I wondered how many others had received that same question recently.

"I…" Grace uttered, head snapping up. She met my gaze and there was a pain and sorrow there that doubled my own current discomfort. Was that emotion purely for my daughter's lack of mother? Or was there something else there? I thought back over our many conversations, wracking my brain to remember if she'd ever mentioned her mother. I knew her father had recently retired, and she had a sister who lived in New York with her husband, but her mom…

Seconds ticked by as I tried to find a tactful way to divert the conversation, but before I could open my mouth and whip out some of that no-fail Santos charm, Grace's expression cleared, her gaze averting to her colouring page once more. "It can be the best thing in the world," she admitted quietly. "But sometimes it can be the worst thing in the world."

Not it was Kenzie's turn to snap her head up, eyes wide, mouth agape as she stared at the woman of my affection. "The worst thing?" she asked incredulously.

"Mmhmm," Grace nodded, not looking up from her page. "When I was little I had the best time with my mom. We would bake cookies, and read, and I'd just follow her around all day, helping with her chores and just having fun with her. But when I was a teenager all we seemed to do was fight. I was angry at her all the time."

"Why?" Kenzie's question seemed to be plucked straight from my own mind, though I guessed that some of the reason had to do with teenage hormones.

Grace shrugged and laid down her pencil, finally lifting her head to meet my daughters worried expression. "Sometimes that's just what teenage daughters do," she explained. "But, um, my mom was sick a lot when I was a teenager and…" She took a deep breath, glancing down at the pencil she'd started fiddling with. "I got angry that I couldn't do all the things I wanted to do because of it."

"What things?" Kenzie asked, once again speaking for both us.

Grace sighed, lifting one shoulder slightly, then letting it drop again as if it were the heaviest thing in the world. "With mom sick in bed, Dad had to work three jobs to keep on top of all the bills. He was hardly ever home, and when he was, he was exhausted. So I had to be the one to cook and clean and look after my sister."

Kenzie's eyebrows shot clear to her hairline. "You have a sister?"

"I do," she confirmed, a tiny semblance of a smile breaking through the clouded expression. "She was a little bit older than you when my mom got sick, so I would have to cook her breakfast, and get her ready for school, and make sure she did her homework, and all the things your Dad does for you."

Sensing where this story was headed, I put down my pencil and laid my hand on top of hers wanting to lend any strength and support I could is she chose to continue to open up to me and my daughter. I was invested, and I knew Kenzie was too. I also knew how insistent she could be when she wanted details. The questions about Phoebe had slowed recently, but Grace's story was new and enticing. I just hoped Grace had the wherewithal to get through whatever she'd opened up.

Luckily, Grace didn't pause long enough for Kenzie to form a question on her lips. "Because I had to be there for Emily, I couldn't do a lot of the things my friends were doing like dating and going to parties. And then," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Mom died when I was eighteen, and Dad couldn't cope with the grief and Emily, so I stayed home instead of going to college, and continued taking care of her."

"Oh, Grace," I uttered, my heart breaking for all the experiences she must have missed out on growing up having to be the adult before it was her time. Meanwhile, I'd lived wild and free for most of my life. Even with my military career, I couldn't say that I'd born the weight of responsibility the way she must have.

Kenzie must have been feeling similar emotions to me, because in the blink of an eye, she had closed the distance between herself and Grace, wrapping her arms around her waist. "I'm sorry your mommy died," she murmured. "My mommy died, too, but I don't remember her. I still miss her though. Do you miss your mommy?"

Grace sniffed, hugging her back. "I do," she admitted. "I miss being able to talk to her about my day and asking her advice. We didn't always get along, but I still loved her, and she always knew the right thing to say when I was having a bad day."

"But couldn't you tell your Daddy about your day?" Kenzie asked, peering up at her. "I tell my Daddy everything, and he's very good and listening and helping."

Holding onto my daughter's hug with one arm, Grace picked up her pencil with the other hand and started colouring the unicorn's mane. "He is, isn't he?" She agreed, tossing me a warm smile. "But I didn't have the same relationship with my Dad that you have with yours. And he was very sad about my mom."

Kenzie seemed to thing on this for a moment, her brows furrowing as a million expressions passed over her face in the space of a few seconds. What dots was she connecting inside that head of hers? Finally, she lifted her chin, determination shining through her eyes. "Miss Grace, if you need to talk to someone about your day, you can share my Daddy."

"Is that so?" Grace asked, lifting an eyebrow.

My heart clenched again at how caring my daughter was, but the feeling was tempered by something more heated in the pit of my stomach from the look Grace sent me. This whole day just felt right.

Kenzie nodded firmly, sitting up and moving back to her own cushion. "Yep, she said brightly, grinning between Grace and me. "I'm good at sharing, and my Daddy is the bested at making people feel better." She started colouring her unicorn again and I thought that was the end of the conversation, but then she added, "Sometimes he's a bit silly, though."

"Hey!" I protested, even though I knew it was one of the truest statements someone could make about me. "I'll have you know that you make me silly."

Shaking her head, Kenzie waved her pencil at me defiantly. "Nuh-uh," she said. "Aunty Steph told me you're always the silliest. And Uncle Cal said you don't have a serious bon in your body. And Bo-Bo said-"

"Ooooh-kay," I said, cutting her off before she could spill my father's assessment of my personality. "We should finish our colourings."

"He is pretty silly," Grace whispered conspiratorially to Kenzie. "But I like silly people the best."

They shared a grin. "Me, too," Kenzie replied.

The Banter continued for a few minutes as we got back into the swing of our colourings and the tense and emotional mood seemed to dissipate naturally. Grace explained that her experiences of her mother dying and her father not being able to take care of her sister had been the inspiration for starting up the Daddy-Daughter Dos class. It just served to make me love her that little bit more knowing that she'd channelled those tumultuous feelings into something constructive rather than allowing them to make her a bitter and jaded person. I was lost in thought as Kenzie told a story about how she and Lacey had come second in a relay race at school when Grace let out a small, "Oops."

"What's wrong?" Kenzie asked, kneeling up to lean over the table into Grace's space.

"My pencil broke," Grace explained, holding up the offending item. "Do we have a sharpener?"

I scanned my gaze over the pencil scattered on the table. "Not here," I said. "But there's one in the kitchen with Kenzie's stuff. I'll-"

Grace interrupted before I could either finish my statement or get my feet under me. "I'll get it," she assured me, popping to her feet with an agility I hadn't realised she possessed. "I need to stretch my legs anyway. Just give me a little direction."

I gave a small nod and explained the location of the homework kit we kept beside the fruit bowl on the counter, describing the pink, star-shaped pencil sharpener so she'd know what she was looking for.

She was gone for a few minutes, during which time Kenzie whispered excitedly about how much time having Grace here was, and how she hoped Grace could come over again in the future. I was just beginning to think Grace had gotten lost, or sucked into another dimension when she appeared in the doorway, a troubled expression shadowing her features. I was on my feet before I'd even made a conscious decision to do so.

"I have to go," she said quietly, avoiding my gaze. She already had her bag on her shoulder, one of Boris's hands dangling out the top. "I- sorry, I just need to-"

"Is everything I okay?" I asked, stepping closer, but she moved back into the hall away from me, shaking her head. The haunted look in her eyes when she briefly met mine sent a jolt of fire through my body. Something was wrong.

"Miss Grace?" Kenzie's voice rose up from just beside me. I hadn't realised she was on the move.

As though she had just remembered the child's presence as well, Grace forced a bright smile, crouching down and opening her arms in invitation. Kenzie wasted no time filling them. "I had a great time hanging out with you today," Grace murmured, squeezing my daughter tight. "I just need to go help Miss Lydia at the salon, okay?"

Kenzie nodded. "Okay."

"We'll see you at class on Thursday," I added as she straightened. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and chase away whatever had put that look on her face – was this because of the emotions she'd stirred up by talking about her mom? – but I was also aware that Kenzie was watching us closely, and we'd agreed to keep things on the down low in front of her.

"Mmhmm," she confirmed. "Thanks for having me." And then she was gone, hurrying out the door.