Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“No.”
“Excuse me, but she’s my daughter. You have no say so in where she goes or who she’s with.”
“Delaney, I refuse—” she starts, but I stand up and she stops whatever bullshit she was going to spew.
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“Hand me your keys,” I tell Delaney. “I’ll go start your car.”
She looks over at me, and her eyes soften. Reaching into her coat, she pulls out her keys and hands them over. “Thanks, Kent.”
I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze and walk out the door. I’m proud of her for standing up for herself. I just hope that she gets the answers she’s seeking. That her mother comes clean from all the lies and deceit. After starting her car, I send her a text with the address to Ridge and Kendall’s house and letting her know that I’ll meet her there.
Chapter 11
Delaney
My phone vibrates in my hand, and it gives me something else to do besides glare at my mother. I skim over Kent’s text before sliding my phone back into my pocket. I want to scream and yell, and I know as mad as I am, I’m not going to be able to prevent that from happening. I’m glad Ridge passed on the invitation and I’m glad that Kenton will be there.
“Ready, sweetie?” I ask my daughter.
“Yes!” She jumps in the air and grins. “I’m gonna make all the cookies.”
Taking her hand, I lead us out to my rental. I help her get into her seat, and type the address Kenton sent me into my GPS. My hands grip the wheel as anger courses through me. My daughter chatters in the back seat and doesn’t seem to notice I’m a million miles away. My mother, she lied. All these years, we could have been a family. Sure, I don’t remember, but maybe I would have. How do we know? I wasn’t given the opportunity to see him. He didn’t get the opportunity to do the right thing, by me or by our daughter. That was stripped from him, just like it was from me.
I’m livid.
I’m hurt.
I’m disappointed.
How much of my life that she filled in for me is a lie? Is any of it true? How can I trust her now? I can barely stand to look at her. Did my father know? Why did he go along with it? Whose idea was it to keep me from Kent? To keep him from me and his daughter? There are a million questions swirling in my mind.
“Momma.” Kendrix huffs.
Glancing into the rearview mirror, I see her watching me. “Are we there yet?” she asks, annoyance in her tone.
“Hey, now, is that how we act?” I ask, my eyes back on the road.
“You were ’noring me.”
“Ignoring. And I wasn’t. Not on purpose. Mommy was just lost in thought.”
“You’re not posta be stracted when driving, Momma.”
“Distracted. I know, and I’m sorry. We’re almost there. Two minutes is what the GPS says.”
“I love making cookies,” she tells me.
“I know you do.”
“If Mr. Kent is there, I’ll teach him like he teached me.”
“Like he taught you, and that sounds like a great idea.” I’m sure Kenton knows how to make cookies, but something tells me that if Kendrix wanted to teach him, he would pretend otherwise just to have her attention. I should be nervous about leaving my child with people I’ve just met, but I’m not. In fact, I feel as though she’s safer with them than with my mother. My own flesh and blood.
I hate to think that I almost let my mother convince me to just sell the estate, or to let the lawyer, Mr. Garcia, handle everything as far as renovations go. Would I have ever remembered? Would I have ever found out she was lying to me? I swallow back the tears when I think about Kendrix never knowing her daddy. Those two… they’re going to be best friends; I can already tell. There’s so much for Kenton and me to discuss and work out, but we’re taking it one day at a time. First, cookies, then a talk with my mother. Tomorrow, we’ll have the test done, and in a few days, we will have hard, concrete poof of her paternity.
As soon as I pull into the driveway, Kendrix starts mumbling about letting her out of her seat. I park next to Kenton’s truck, and he appears beside me, opening my door. “Hey, Laney,” he says softly. It’s a complete contrast to his appearance. He appears to be a hard badass with all the ink and muscles, but to me, and to our daughter, to his friends, and their children, I’ve only ever seen him be the softie that he is. I don’t believe Kenton Baldwin has a mean bone in his entire body.
“Mr. Kent!” Kendrix yells through the car window.