All Tied Up - Ali Parker Page 0,1

color scheme.”

I waved off the comment. My bride-to-be was fickle, sure, but she only wanted to make sure our wedding day was as close to perfect as she could get it. She’d been born and raised by a wealthy politician in the Bahamas and was used to things being a certain way. She’d been the little girl who dreamt of her wedding since she was old enough to play dolls. Apparently, her doll collection had an entire shelf dedicated to bridal dolls in beautiful gowns and veils, with tiny bouquets clutched in their plastic hands.

“I’m sure Verity wouldn’t care if you painted your nails lime green,” I told my daughter. “They’re your nails. You pick the color you like best.”

Chessie bit her bottom lip as she considered all her options and I removed the next batch of pancakes from the pan. “I could do yellow. And sparkly. Oh… or pink! Or blue! I think I’ll do blue. Do you think they’ll have any dolphin stickers?”

I chuckled. “I’m not sure, kiddo. You’ll have to wait and see.”

Chessie swung her legs back and forth and heaved a dramatic sigh. “You know how much I hate waiting, Daddy.”

“Anticipation is—”

“Half the fun,” she finished dryly. “I know. You say that all the time. But I think that’s just something you say so I won’t ask you more questions.”

I grinned. She was catching on. “That’s not true. I believe it. All the best things are worth waiting for. Like you. I had to wait nine months to meet you. Can you imagine?”

Chessie giggled. “And I was worth the wait?”

“Worth the wait?” I stopped what I was doing. “Francesca Marie Garrett, I would have waited a lifetime to meet you if that’s what it took. You were worth every second.” I pointed the pancake flipper at her. “And always will be.”

Chessie was worth every argument with her mother, too. Every breakdown. Every night spent lying in bed staring at my bedroom ceiling knowing there was a chance I might lose her once she was born. Her mother had pulled away from me ever since she became pregnant, and I later learned it was because she was having an affair with one of my business colleagues and had been for the previous two years. She never intended to get pregnant, especially not with my child, and when it happened, she’d felt trapped. All the walls came closing in around her, and within three months of Chessie being born, my ex-wife had handed the baby to me and bowed out.

I want a divorce.

No words had ever cut so deeply before. I’d stood there staring at her with our daughter in my arms, wondering why she’d handed her to me at that exact moment. I looked from the doe-eyed baby girl in my arms to my wife’s sharp green stare.

Then she’d shed one single tear and told me she was moving to California to start over. Without me. And without Chessie.

And I’d let her leave without asking any questions. Without getting angry. Without trying to understand.

We didn’t need her, not if she didn’t need or want us.

“The pancakes are burning.”

I blinked back into the present moment and hurried to flip the new batch of pancakes. I muttered under my breath about not paying attention and resigned myself to my fate that I would be the one eating the not-so-golden-brown pancakes this morning.

The timer on the coffee pot beeped behind me. “All right, kiddo. Breakfast is up in two minutes.” I slid a plate full of crispy bacon wrapped in a paper towel across the counter to her. “Could you put this on the table and the butter and syrup as well?”

Chessie nodded and began climbing down from the barstool. She carried the bacon to the table and proceeded to set up the rest of the things while I polished off the last batch of pancakes. Then I carried those to the kitchen nook. It was a bright enclosed solarium that jutted out of the kitchen into the gardens of the backyard, and it was presently strung up with multiple strings of Christmas lights. In one corner stood one of the five Christmas trees in the house. The others were in the dining room, mine and Verity’s bedroom, Chessie’s bedroom, and of course, the most impressive of them all was in the living room.

That was the tree Santa would visit.

I was about to head upstairs and wake Verity when I heard her footsteps on the glass stairs. She descended in