Special Forces Father

As Dani cut slices of Bryan’s homemade quiche he took papers out of his briefcase and slid them across the counter to her. “Gramma’s trust,” he said. He’d always called her grandmother Grammathe same way Dani had even though there was no relation. “Since you’re the only beneficiary all ownership has been transferred to you.”

That sobered her. “Already.”

“It’s been six weeks since she passed. We did the trust instead of a will because it would be quicker and easier at the end and wouldn’t have to go into probate like a will. And there’s the proof—no court, no court costs, over and done. You’re now the sole owner of the house and Marconi’s Italian Restaurant.”

Essentially that had been true ever since her grandmother had died, but still, the finality and reality of it, of the loss of her grandmother, landed heavily on Dani all over again.

Dealing with that made her go very quiet and when Evie came up the stairs with a request that she fasten the buttons in the back of her dress, Bryan intercepted her to do it while Dani got down glasses for the twins and poured milk.

Then Evie went downstairs with a promise to Bryan that he was going to love her shoes and Dani took a deep breath to fuel herself to go on.

“Your cousin wants to buy the house,” she said.

Bryan had several cousins. One of them was newly married and she and her husband had rented the house that Dani had grown up in. The house that had belonged to her grandparents and passed to her when her grandmother died.

“I know Shannon loves the house, but I told her not to pressure you about buying it,” Bryan said. “It could be a nice home for you, you know? When some time passes.”

“Or I could sell it and use the money to renovate the restaurant,” Dani said. “Or I could sell them both...” It was a conversation they’d been having since her eighty-year-old grandmother’s death.

So many changes were in the wind. Too many. All of them weighing on her.

And Bryan knew how overwhelmed she was, how torn she was about whether or not to let go of the house she’d grown up in. About whether or not to accept the end of her time with the twins as the end of her own career as a nanny so she could take over where her grandparents had left off with the restaurant. About whether or not to sell the business that had been the lifeblood of her family. The business that had kept her grandparents alive in some ways. The business that couldn’t go on as it had without Dani. About whether or not to genuinely close the door on the people and life she’d always known. And loved.

“Gramma would have been right about this coffee—battery acid!” Bryan said.

Dani knew he was attempting to distract her from her own thoughts and from drifting into the doldrums and grief that were just below the surface.

“Let’s try a little cream and sugar,” he suggested. “I can’t believe Hottie Marine actually drinks this black.”

“‘Hottie Marine’?” she echoed. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“We haven’t even met,” Bryan defended himself. “Would you prefer Lovely Liam?”

“Oh, that is waaay worse.”

Bryan passed her on his way to the refrigerator for the cream and nudged her with his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked seriously, knowing her well enough to understand what she was feeling.

“Sure,” she answered.

“Lot of decisions on the table—go at them one at a time.”

“I will. But I’m not doing anything about my own future until I know the kids will be okay.”

He kissed her cheek. “That’s why I love you, lady.”

And that small comment brought tears to her eyes that she had to blink back.

“So tell me more about our marine,” he encouraged.

But the twins were finished dressing and both came into the kitchen. Grady was in red-and-white star leggings with a salmon-colored T-shirt—he called it his toucan shirt because of the long-beaked bird on it—and sparkling blue tennis shoes that lit up when he stomped his feet, which he demonstrated for Bryan. Evie wore her predominantly navy blue flowered knit dress with green striped leggings under it and her own light-up, sparkling pink running shoes.

“Wow! You guys are colorful!” Bryan said as if he was impressed.

“Dani let us pick out our own clothes because it’s our bacation and we don’t have to wear umiforms.”

“And what a great job you did,” Bryan commended. “Now come and eat my quiche and tell me how good it is,” he added.

The twins eagerly went to two of the bar stools to climb up and do as he’d instructed.

And Dani wished that Liam was there to watch her friend and maybe pick up a few tips on how to build rapport with the twins.

Although, for some strange reason, she’d been wishing that Liam was there since she got up this morning.

And it didn’t have anything to do with the kids.

* * *

“You say it pit-sails—not piz-els. And these are ours that get saved for us. They’re the broken ones Dani lets us have,” Grady informed Liam.

Liam had been alarmed that the kids had gone behind the bakery case at Marconi’s Italian Restaurant and begun to help themselves from a drawer below it. He’d warned Dani that they were getting into the Italian waffle cookies, pronouncing the name the way it was spelled on the sign where stacks of them were displayed for sale.

“It’s okay,” Dani assured him. Then to the twins she said, “But not too many. You can each have two broken pieces and put the rest in a bag to take home.” Then, using a tissue to take an unbroken one from a stack, she handed it to Liam. “They’re traditional Italian cookies—my grandmother’s recipe with anise oil and anise seed. It tastes like licorice and the cookie itself is buttery and crispy and light...if you’ve never had one.”