name was Paisley Rhodes-Bradley, for Christ’s sake. Emmitt had first met Paisley’s mom when he’d moved to Rome in middle school. He was twelve, Michelle sixteen, and she was his best friend’s sister. But it wasn’t until Emmitt had come home from college, when those four years didn’t seem to make such a big difference anymore. Michelle was fresh out of a relationship and looking for a rebound, and Emmitt was looking to live out one of his childhood fantasies.
The timing seemed perfect.
All it took was one kiss and their fates were sealed. That kiss led to a sizzling-summer weekend spent together on a deserted strip of beach, sleeping in a tent and bathing in the Atlantic. They both knew it going in, the weekend was all they had, so they enjoyed every moment.
It wasn’t until six years later, when he was covering a subway bombing in Berlin, that he heard from Michelle again. She’d had a baby. And she was pretty confident Paisley was his.
When Paisley had been born, Michelle thought the father was her current boyfriend, leaving no reason to notify Emmitt. But after some lab work had proven that Paisley’s dad wasn’t the guy on the birth certificate, she’d e-mailed Emmitt immediately. He was on the first flight home, ring in his pocket, ready to do the right thing.
Only, Michelle already had a steady man in her life. Dr. Dreamboat had come onto the scene a few years earlier with a heartfelt drop to a single knee.
Not that it mattered. One look at those big brown eyes and adorable dimples and Emmitt didn’t need to wait for the test to come back. Without a doubt, that travel-sized pixie in soccer cleats and a grin that could heal the world was one hundred percent his.
Overnight, Emmitt had become daddy to a five-year-old little girl.
But Paisley was a package deal. She didn’t go anywhere without her mom and the two men in her life—Uncle Levi and Stepdad Grayson, who’d already staked a solid claim in her little world.
Since Emmitt was the last one to the table, he was still fighting for his rightful place in the family, and in Paisley’s life.
“If you’re going by that logic,” Gray explained, “then I’d like to go on record saying that since she introduces me as her father and you as her dad, I’m the most logical choice to take Paisley to the father-daughter dance.”
“Go on record?” Emmitt laughed. “This isn’t an autopsy, Doc. It’s my kid’s dance. And since my name’s on the birth certificate now, it blows your logic right out of the water.”
“So is mine,” Levi interrupted. “She’s a born-and-bred Rhodes. I’d also like to point out that I was around before any of you guys bothered to show up.”
To say his family situation was complicated was an understatement.
“Raise your hand if you changed a single diaper,” Levi went on.
Gray started to raise a hand, and Levi skewered him with a look. “Paisley’s diapers? Your patients don’t count.”
Grayson folded his arms across his chest.
“Ever do a late-night drive through town until she fell asleep?” He looked around. His was the only hand up. “No? How about an early morning feeding where she puked your sister’s breast milk all over your face? Snotted on your workshirt? Kicked you in the junk?”
All three hands went in the air at the last question.
Levi shook his head and gave an unimpressed huff. “She was already mobile by that point. That’s on you guys.” Levi put his hand down. “All I’m saying is that if anyone has a right to take Paisley to that dance, it’s me.”
“Like hell.” Gray stood, getting on his self-righteous soapbox. “It’s quality, not quantity. I’m the homework guy, the hold my hand while I get a shot guy, wipe away the tears guy, PTA guy, carpool guy—”
“Only because you’re a shitty poker player,” Levi pointed out.
“I’m the everyday in the trenches guy.” Gray ended with so much superiority, Emmitt was surprised he didn’t jump on the table and drop the mic.
“Sounds like you’re the tight-ass guy who no one wants to take to a dance,” Emmitt joked.
Gray didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked more serious than usual. “I’m the guy who shows up every day, no matter what.”
Emmitt didn’t think Gray meant for his words to cut as deep as they did, but they’d definitely leave a mark.
When Emmitt was in Rome, he threw off the natural balance of things. He’d known that the moment he’d been accepted into the fold. It also wasn’t a secret that when he was away on assignment, everyone else’s life got a whole hell of a lot less complicated. Paisley didn’t have to choose whose house she was going to sleep at. Didn’t have to rush over before school because she’d left her homework at Gray’s place. And she didn’t have to divide her attention among her three dads.
Gray was always on his ass about cutting back on the number of assignments he took, being home more. Easy for someone whose job restricted him to a one-block radius to pass judgment.
Emmitt had cut back a lot over the past few years. With Michelle gone, he planned on cutting back even further. He’d even approached Paisley about moving in with him full time. To Emmitt’s disappointment, her therapist had agreed with Gray that it was best to keep Paisley in the only home she’d ever known.
Emmitt had buried another dream that day. The full-time guy wasn’t going to be him. That honor went to Gray. So Emmitt went back to being the cool dad, the one who interviewed the occasional star, gave outlandish and indulgent gifts, and came home on random weekends and holidays.
It sucked. Big time. But there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make his little girl happy, even if it meant co-parenting with a guy who was the poster child for Dad of the Year. And an uncle who fancied himself the father figure against which all other father figures should be measured.
Every girl should be so lucky as to have this much love surrounding her.
“I’d have an easier time showing up if you weren’t always keeping me out of the loop on things. Such as, I don’t know? The father-daughter dance.”
“I’ve been a little distracted. I buried the love of my life four months ago, and this is the first big event since Michelle’s been gone,” Gray whispered. “Let me have this. Michelle would have wanted it.”
The table was silent for a long moment. Finally, Levi spoke, “Are you playing the widower card?”
Gray slowly smiled. “Did it work?”
“Hell no,” Levi said, and they all burst out laughing.
“Michelle would have loved this,” Emmitt said. “The three of us acting like a bunch of old biddies over a dance card.”
“Yeah, she would have.” Gray sobered, as did the rest of them.
The moment was suddenly swallowed by the grief that clung to each of them, weighing them down and making it hard to breathe.
Michelle
