Chapter Twenty

Aaron tilted his chin up, watching his reflection in the mirror, focusing on the deft movement of his fingers as they went through the motions of tying the silk tie. He saw Isabelle's reflection behind him as she kneeled on the edge of his bed, bouncing up and down as she watched him. Brooke stood just inside the room, leaning against the doorframe.

Both girls were frowning.

He finished the knot, straightening the tie before pulling the shirt collar down. Then he turned and faced both girls, a knot forming in his stomach. "Why are you both staring at me like that?"

They exchanged a quiet look, neither one of them saying anything. He sighed and moved over to the bed, sat on the edge and wrapped one arm around Isabelle's shoulder. He patted the mattress next to him, motioning for Brooke to join him.

She looked like she wanted to refuse, like she wanted to shake her head and run from the room. He held his breath, waiting…

She finally heaved a sigh, a heavy one filled with all the teenage drama she could muster, then shuffled over to the bed.

Aaron took a deep breath, let it out in a rush, then asked the question that worried him the most. "Are you sure you guys are okay with this?"

"Would it matter if we weren't?" The question came from Brooke, her voice injected with a combination of sulkiness, disbelief, and just a hint of attitude. Aaron shifted, his gaze meeting his oldest daughter's. She looked so much like her mother, with those deep blue-green eyes and thick golden hair. She was already showing signs of the stunningly beautiful woman she'd become, with those slightly exotic eyes and her mother's slender curves.

But God, she was only thirteen, just barely. The thought of her growing up, the thought of any boy showing interest in her, scared the living hell out of him. And he prayed, every damn night, that her looks were the only thing she inherited from his ex, that she was better able to handle the attention she would receive—might already be receiving—than her mother ever had.

For Amy, the attention had become an addiction, something she craved, something she needed as much as she needed air to breathe. His ex had constantly been seeking attention, searching for that superficial validation even after they had married. It didn't matter where it came from, as long as she had it.

He pushed away all thoughts of his ex-wife, banished the sorrow and regret of mistakes made—by both of them. That was in the past, and it was time to let it go.

That didn't stop the urge he had to lock Brooke in the basement until she got older. Like, say, maybe until she turned forty.

He gave himself a mental shake, forcing his mind back to the here-and-now, to answering Brooke's question.

"Yeah, it would matter."

She made a small snorting sound and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Right."

He turned toward her, placed one hand on each of her shoulders, and peered into her eyes. "Yes, it would. If you—either one of you—aren't comfortable with this, let me know."

"And what? You'll cancel your big date?"

"Yes, I would." It would kill him. His gut was already twisting into a knot at the idea—but he'd do it. "You girls come first. Always."

Brooke watched him for a long minute, her gaze so intense, seeing too much for a girl her age, that he almost looked away. Then she rolled her eyes and snorted again, nothing more than a normal teenager once more.

"That's stupid. I mean, it's not like you haven't already—" Her mouth clamped shut and she darted a quick glance at Isabelle before looking back at him, her eyes not quite meeting his. "Kissed."

Brooke's observation slammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Not so much what she had said—no, it was what she didn't say. And Christ, how could she know? How did she even know about that shit anyway? She was a girl, too young to have any knowledge of kissing, let alone knowledge of…of sex. A sickening thought twisted his gut and he quickly shoved it from his mind.

No. Oh, no. No fucking way. He wasn't even going there. The idea that his little girl may have already…that she wasn't—oh no. No, no, no. Absolutely not.

"Daddy, are you going to marry Miss Savannah?"

Isabelle's innocent question, asked on the heels of Brooke's observation, sent him over the edge. He damn near jumped from the bed, his fingers working the knot of the tie that was suddenly strangling him.

"No, Sweet Pea. We're not getting married. We're not even going out. I'll call and…and—" Fuck. He needed to cancel the date. He didn't want to, but he had to. And then he was going to barricade himself in the house with the girls until they turned fifty.

Or until he died, whichever came first.

The way he felt now, he just might keel over from a heart attack in the next thirty seconds.

Isabelle and Brooke both started talking at once, their high-pitched voices coming at him from both sides. But it was Brooke's louder voice that cut through the din, demanding attention.

"Dad! What are you doing? You can't cancel!"

He paused, the ends of the tie dangling from his hands. "I think I need to."

"Why?"

Why? Good question. Too damn bad he couldn't come up with an answer. At least, not one he could give to the two young girls sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him with identical expressions of bewilderment. So he settled on his mother's favorite standby, the explanation she had given for everything when he was growing up.

"Because."

Aaron yanked the tie off and moved to the closet, hanging it on the rack with all his other ties. He reached up, undid the top button of his dress shirt, and pulled in a deep breath.

"That's just stupid."

"Yeah, Daddy. That's stupid."

He spun around, frowning at both his daughters. "Okay, no more 'stupid'. I am so tired of hearing that word around this house. Come up with something different."

Brooke jumped to her feet then promptly stomped one against the floor. "But it is stupid! Why would you even do that?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"That's just stu—" Brooke's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, her mind obviously searching for another word. "Dumb."

"You need to go, Daddy. Miss Savannah'll be sad if you don't."

"I'm not going. Not if you girls aren't okay with it."

"But we are!"

If the comment had come from Isabelle, he might have believed it. But coming from Brooke? No. He couldn't. "Brooke, how am I supposed to believe that when I know you don't even like her?"

"I never said I didn't like her."

"Brooke. Really?"

She lowered her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "She's okay. I guess."

Aaron wanted to believe her, he really did. But he knew better. He shrugged out of the suit jacket and placed it on a hanger, then undid the buttons of the shirt sleeves. "Why don't you two run downstairs and help Grammy out? I'll be down in a few minutes. After I change."

And call Savannah to cancel their date. And Christ, he hadn't expected the wave of disappointment that crashed over him. Hadn't expected to feel so hollow and empty.

He felt a hand tug on his arm, looked down to see Brooke standing next to him, her eyes big and round and filled with tears. "Daddy, I'm sorry. Don't cancel. Please? I'll be nicer to Miss Savannah. I promise."

"Brooke—" He had to stop and clear his throat because, fuck, the sight of his daughter staring up at him, looking like she was the one to blame for his decision, slayed him. "Brooke, this isn't your fault. Okay? It's just—this whole dating thing. I'm not ready. I'm too old. I'm not—"

He stopped before he said too much, remembering that this was his daughter he was talking to. His thirteen-year-old daughter. "It'll be fine, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. I want you to go. We both do." She turned to Isabelle. "Tell him, Isabelle."

"Brookie's right, Daddy. We want you to go."

His head started to spin, trying to make sense of the sudden change of heart. Not from Isabelle—although he wondered if he needed to worry about that comment she had made about getting married. But Brooke…this wasn't like her, especially when he knew she wasn't overly fond of Savannah. He hadn't pushed the issue, hadn't asked why, had just chalked it up to one of those things.

Maybe he should have pursued it before now.

"Why, Brooke? Why is it suddenly so important to you?"

"Because—" She looked away, chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds, then heaved another long sigh as the words left her in a rush. "Because you like her and I guess she's really not that stupid and you smile a lot more when she's around so that makes it okay."

And damn if Aaron's throat didn't fucking close up. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a ragged breath. Then he pulled Brooke in for a hug, felt her stiffen for a brief second before she relaxed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked over, crooked his finger at Isabelle, then grunted when she crashed into them, joining in the hug with a laugh.

Brooke was the first one to pull away. "So you're going to go?"

"Yeah, I'll go." He redid the buttons on his sleeves then reached into the closet for the suit jacket.

"Dad, no. You can't wear that."

"Why can't I wear it? It's a suit. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Because that's what you wear to work!"

He blinked against the surprise he felt at Brooke's comment. Yeah, sure. He wore a suit to and from the games, that was their dress code. But it's not what he wore for work.

He really needed to start bringing the girls to more games.

"There's nothing wrong with a suit—"

"But Dad, that's all she's ever seen you in. That and sweatpants or gym shorts or those stupid cargo shorts you always wore during the summer."

"What's wrong with cargo shorts?" The question popped out before Brooke's comment completely sunk in. Before the truth of the words sunk in. And shit, she was right. Sweatpants. Gym shorts. Cargo shorts. That's all he wore around Savannah because he was always home when he saw Savannah, and he dressed for comfort when he was home. Didn't everyone?

He stared at the suit jacket dangling from his hand, then looked at his two daughters. "Then what am I supposed to wear if you don't want me wearing this?"

Brooke and Isabelle exchanged a look. Identical grins spread across their faces, filling him with a dread he didn't quite understand. Then the girls shoved him out of the way and started digging through his closet, tossing clothes over their shoulders in search of a daughter-approved outfit for his first date in forever.