“Daddy.”

I grunt as Tate pulls on my arm.

“Daddy,” she whispers and tugs harder.

“Baby, let Daddy sleep.” I don’t open my eyes.

“Why’s Tilly here?” Tate asks.

Every muscle in my body tenses as my eyes fly open.

Fuck.

I’m about to get the Shittiest Father of the Year award. The one thing I promised myself was that I wouldn’t subject my kids to someone I was dating until I was pretty damn serious about where our future was heading.

I’m not quite sure where Tilly and I are going. Last night, kissing her made me feel alive again. It made me want more of her. I’d been so busy with the kids and the bar, I’d put the loneliness I felt completely out of my mind.

Everything about us felt right. She got me. She didn’t judge me on my sadness or guilt. Tilly had walked in my shoes, losing the person she thought she’d spend eternity with.

“We fell asleep watching a movie, baby.” I glance down at Tilly, who’s still sleeping peacefully at my side. Thank God shit didn’t get out of hand and we are both fully clothed. That would’ve been a complete nightmare.

This is bad.

Tate’s on the coffee table, staring at the two of us. Her tiny legs are kicking back and forth against the wood, and I know she probably has a million questions. She pushes her unruly hair backward and yawns before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are you going to make us breakfast?”

She doesn’t seem bothered or even shocked that Tilly’s in our home and spent the night, but the guilt in my gut is clear as day. As a father, it’s my duty to protect Tate, even if it’s from me.

“I don’t know. Tilly probably has to go,” I tell her.

Tilly starts to stir in the crook of my arm. It’s like I’m frozen. I don’t know if I should push Tilly away, putting space between us for Tate. But I also don’t want to be an asshole to Tilly and have her wake up in the middle of me shoving her off my shoulder.

Tate scrunches her little nose. “Why?”

“Well…”

“Oh my God,” Tilly whispers at my side and tenses just like I did.

Tate giggles. “Morning, Tilly.”

If the kid’s traumatized by Tilly’s presence, she’s not letting on. Tate seems excited there’s another woman in the house, and it doesn’t hurt that Tilly’s always giving her cupcakes.

“I’m sorry.” Tilly pushes herself upright while glancing up at me with nothing but fear in her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Tate answers for me. “Daddy was just going to make us breakfast.”

Tate and her food. She’d probably be more upset about missing a meal than she is about finding Tilly and me fast asleep on the couch.

“I should go.” Tilly scoots to the edge of the couch. She’s about to get up, but Tate puts her hand out, stopping Tilly in her tracks.

“No.” Tate shakes her head. “You can’t.”

I move to the edge of the couch next to Tilly. “Why not?”

Tate toys with the edge of her unicorn nightgown, looking at us from under her ridiculously long eyelashes. “Because she’s hungry.”

“I’m not really much of a morning eater,” Tilly tells Tate.

Tate’s mouth drops open, and she lowers her head. “You don’t eat breakfast?”

Tilly looks at me out of the corner of her eye and grimaces. “No.”

Tate’s still in shock. She’s staring at Tilly like she’s an oddity in a sideshow. “I’d die of starvation.”

I glance at Tilly and roll my eyes. “She’s a little dramatic.”

Tate crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “I am not.”

“And she’s feisty in the morning.”

“I’m hungry,” she whines and points to her stomach, always ready to eat. “Can you make Tilly and me pancakes?”

I don’t even bother arguing with her. There’s no getting her to change her mind when her belly isn’t full. She’s like a little monster. She takes hangry to a whole new level.

“You should stay,” I tell Tilly because I want her to know I’m okay with it.

If Tate’s not freaking out about Tilly being there, I can let it slide if it makes her happy. Plus, it’ll be nice to have an adult to talk to over breakfast instead of just two little kids.

Tate jumps from the coffee table and starts to run around the room, cheering in victory. “Best breakfast ever!” She pumps her fists in the air.

Tilly turns toward me until our knees are almost touching. “Are you sure?”

I remember the way she made me feel last night. “I am. Plus—” I tick my chin toward Tate who’s still celebrating her victory “—she’s happy, and so am I. I’ll start breakfast. You just relax.”

I want to kiss her again, but I stop myself. Tate’s seen enough for one day, and kissing Tilly in front of her wouldn’t be right.

Tate stands near the hallway, waving her arms. “Tilly, come see my room.”

She’s adorable, even when she’s a total pain in my ass. If I’m not careful, my mother and sister will turn her into a monster by the time she’s eighteen. The thought alone gives me a headache.

Tilly slides her hands into mine, and I pull her up from the couch. “Go see her room. I’ve got this handled.”

She nods, biting her bottom lip and driving me a little crazy. Morning wood is a real thing, and right now, I’m suffering.

Between last night and the crazy dream I had about Tilly wearing nothing but those hot-as-fuck red stilettos, I knew I was on the verge of blue balls.

Tate grabs Tilly’s hand and pulls her toward the hallway. “Come on,” she says to her, impatient as always.

I stand there, watching them as they walk hand in hand toward Tate’s bedroom.

Part of me is happy to see Tate content and seeming to latch on to Tilly so easily. But there is another part, the one that’s become a part of me since Marissa took her last breath, that makes me feel like I am betraying the memory of my wife.

“Daddy,” Tate calls out, turning around near her doorway. “We want chocolate chips and bananas in the pancakes.”

“Sure, baby.” There isn’t any reason to argue. The kid isn’t giving me any problems about Tilly being here. Chocolate chips and bananas are always her favorite combination.

“You want plain, Tilly?” I ask.

“Chocolate and bananas are perfect.”

“There’s nothing better, and my daddy makes the best pancakes in the world.”

The kid clearly needs to get out more. I am okay at pancakes, but there’s not much you can fuck up about pouring some batter and turning it over before charring one side.

Brax wanders out of his room, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists and doesn’t even stop to look in Tate’s room, even when he has to hear two voices.

“I’m hungry.” He stands in the middle of the kitchen, making my job of prepping the pancakes a little more difficult.

I lift him up, placing his ass on the middle island so he’s out of the way and can’t get into too much trouble. “You can help,” I tell him, but there’s no way I’m letting him mix a damn thing.

I place three bananas in a plastic bag, seal it tightly, and hand it off to Brax to smash into tiny pieces. It’s enough to keep him occupied while I finish everything else.

“Who’s Tate talking to?” He uses all his might to mash the bananas, staring at the plastic bag with so much focus.

“Tilly.”

Brax’s eyes widen. “Yay!” he says, sounding every bit like his sister. “I like Twilly.”

“Daddy, can I wear my pink dress?” Tate yells from her room. “Tilly’s going to help me get ready.”

I stare down the hallway, caught off guard. I don’t answer right away.

“Daddy!”

“Sure,” I yell back, but I’m not sure if I’ve totally fucked everything up.

As I finish prepping breakfast, I analyze all the ways I could’ve messed up my children by having a woman in the house. Every book I read on grieving and how to move forward with children said to introduce children to new “friends” slowly. The last thing I wanted was for them to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in my life.

There’s a knock on the door, but I’m knee-deep in batter, and the griddle is covered with pancakes. Before I can move, Tate comes running out of her bedroom and heads toward the door. Her hair is tied up in a pink bow, and she’s wearing her favorite pink dress.

Tilly walks out behind her and comes my way. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“I am.”

“She insisted I help her get ready.”

“She’s demanding. I’m sorry.” I flip the pancakes.

“Vinnie,” Tate screams so loudly, my ears ring.

Moments later, Lucio and Vinnie, with Tate in his arms, walk into the kitchen and stop dead in their tracks. They look at Tilly and then to me with their mouths hanging open.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Daddy had a sleepover,” Tate tells them, throwing me right under the bus.

“I have a lot of those too.” Vinnie has the biggest freaking smirk.

“Hey,” I warn because the kid doesn’t need to know about the endless stream of women my brother has in his bed.

“We were watching a movie and fell asleep on the couch.”

“So.” Lucio slides onto a stool on the other side of the island. “You making enough for everyone?”

He’s letting the entire Tilly sleepover slide now, but I know as soon as we’re alone, he’s going to grill me.

“Maybe I better go.” Tilly fidgets next to me.

I glance over at her. “Stay.”

“Tilly has to stay.” Tate grabs Vinnie’s face. “She gives me cupcakes.”

Vinnie laughs. “A girl after my own heart.”

“Vinnie, why don’t you and Tate set the table?” I tell him before he has a chance to say something I know I’ll want to slap him for.

“Sure. Want to help me, baby girl?” he asks Tate before blowing a raspberry in the crook of her neck. She squeals and tips her head back, loving every minute of the way my brothers fawn over her.

“How’s the shop coming, Tilly? Did Angelo get everything done?” Lucio asks.

“He was a big help.” Tilly leans over the end of the counter, keeping a safe distance from me.

“I’m sure he was,” Vinnie mumbles and earns the evil eye from me.

“Good.” Lucio doesn’t say anything more.

“Why’s everyone here so early? It’s not even nine.” I ask while I take the pancakes off the griddle.

“We had to run to the restaurant supply store, and since your place is on the way back, I figured we’d stop and see how you were doing. Vinnie wanted to talk to you too.”

“About?” I glance at Vinnie because the only time he wants to see me is when he needs something.

“It can wait. I’ll talk to you at the bar,” Vinnie says before he turns his attention toward Tilly. “So, Tilly. Why cupcakes?”

“Why not?” she shoots back at him.

I laugh as I check the undersides of the second batch of pancakes, liking the way she isn’t a shy little mouse around my brothers.

“Fair enough.” Vinnie nods, placing the last plate on the table. “What’s the best one you make?”

“My double caramel pecan turtle cupcake. You should stop in and try it. I made a new batch yesterday.”

“I’m there,” he replies quickly. “It takes a lot of calories to maintain this body.”

I roll my eyes because he’s flexing, showing off his muscles, which are almost out of control.

“Your head’s looking smaller than usual,” Lucio tells him, saying exactly what I was thinking. “You get any bigger, and other things may start to shrink as well.”

I laugh and glance at Tilly. She’s laughing but covering her mouth, trying to hide her amusement.

“You can fluff off, brother,” Vinnie snaps.

“Fluff?” Tilly’s eyebrows draw inward.

“We try not to swear in front of the kids,” Lucio tells her. “We have to be creative.”

“Cute,” Tilly replies.

I flip the pancake onto the platter, wanting to feed the troops so they can get the fuck out. “Breakfast is done.”

“I want to sit next to Tilly and Vinnie,” Tate announces. “Is that okay, Daddy?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Somehow, I’ve become her third priority in a room full of people.

Lucio grabs the platter off the counter and nudges me with his elbow. “We have a lot to talk about,” he whispers as everyone sits down at the table, waiting to eat.

“We’ll talk later,” I tell him, knowing he’s going to have a lot to say.

“You surprised me this morning.” He motions toward Tilly with his chin. “You took a big step.”

Hell, I surprised myself. I was reckless with Tilly. Something I’d promised myself I’d never be with my children. Although I haven’t said it, I think it’s time to backpedal a little, putting my kids before myself. Even if that means keeping whatever Tilly and I have on hold.