Dating a Single Dad (27 page)

Especially because there was love involved.

The day seemed to alternate between dragging and flying, speeding up and slowing down depending on which crisis needed her at that moment. By the time the grounds opened to the public she was pretty sure that regular minutes and hours had ceased to exist. Instead, she had entered a parallel universe where time was driven by how loudly the person in front of her was yelling.

Moxie had declared that she would spend much of her time at the gate, thanking and welcoming people as they arrived. Brynn worried it might be too much for her, but when she ran to the entry she saw that Moxie was getting a bigger charge from the duty than a cell phone got from an outlet. She was telling stories and kissing more babies than a politician, and the only downside was that she was slowing down the line to get in.

After wading her way through the crowd of listeners and reminding Moxie that she would need to be onstage fifteen minutes before the dance—a whisper that was met by an uncharacteristic snicker from Moxie—Brynn power-walked back to the main grounds. If she hurried she could manage one final tour before the opening celebration.

She should have known.

Every person, it seemed, had a question, almost all of them unnecessary. The first-aid people needed the Wi-Fi password, which she was sure was on the note given to all vendors and providers. The teens running the hayride weren’t sure what time they were supposed to start, though it was clearly marked on the schedule. The woman in charge of the face painting grabbed Brynn, physically tossed her into the chair and had a butterfly outlined on her cheek before Brynn could think to say no. At that point she had to stay, because running around with a butterfly outline would be almost as attractive as running around with half of her makeup washed off.

By the time she was allowed to leave the face painter, she was wishing she had the wings of her new multicolored best friend. She would be lucky to make it to the stage in time to give the Norths a pep talk and see them in their costumes.

On the other hand, maybe it was better this way. It had ripped her up enough to be around Hank before she told him she wanted to stay. Now that she had laid herself bare before him...

Her musings were cut short by a text from the sound guy, wanting to know where she was and how soon she would be at the stage because the crowd was building.

Ack! She tucked her phone back into her pocket and flew up the path, waving and smiling as she dodged clumps of folks who were eating, laughing and blocking her way. The fact that the biggest crowd was the line of folks waiting to have hockey paraphernalia signed by Sam was little consolation.

Out of wind, hot and flustered, she paused for a deep, centering breath before pulling up a smile and striding to the backstage area. She had almost made it when the sound guy cut her off.

“Come on, Brynn. To your seat.” He took her arm and tugged her toward the front row of benches. “Everyone is ready.”

She stopped, stumbled a bit when he kept moving, then planted her feet and braced herself.

“Hold on,” she said. “I need two minutes.”

“And I need the paycheck that Moxie said I wouldn’t get if I let you go backstage. So let’s move, sweetheart.”

Moxie had ordered this guy to prevent her from going backstage?

All the starch fled from Brynn’s legs as she allowed herself to be led away. So this was how the pieces had fallen.

She wasn’t wanted. Wasn’t needed. While all the Norths she had seen today had been pleasant and polite, it was time for her to be on her way.

If not for the fact that she was in public, she never would have let the sound guy lead her anywhere. But for once she was glad of the years of faking a smile, of making people think she was in control when she was breaking into a hundred sharp, pointy pieces inside.

She was so focused on holding herself together that she didn’t notice the chair until she was almost on it. But there in the middle of the benches sat Old Faithful, adorned with ribbons. A foam crown decked out with stick-on stars and flowers hung from the top corner. It might as well have held a sign that said Millie Was Here.

“What is this?”

Sound Guy shrugged and pointed to the chair. “Dunno. My orders were to get you here and start the music, so that’s what I’m doing.”

With that he gave her a little push toward the chair, watched while she sat down—oh, but her legs were grateful for the familiar curves after a day of running—and took off toward the equipment at the back.

Maybe it was because of the chair, but all of a sudden, Brynn didn’t feel quite as close to shattering as she had a few seconds earlier.

The door to the backstage tent parted. Moxie stepped out, took the stairs with the energy of a world-class sprinter and walked to the microphone. The fringe and sparkles on her twenties-style flapper dress made it seem she was moving even when she stilled and waited for the applause and whistles to die down.

“Evening!” She waved at the crowd filling the benches. “On behalf of all the folks at Northstar, I want to say thanks to everyone in Comeback Cove for one hundred years of support. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

A loud cheer and more applause met her words. She nodded, waved at a few more people, then raised her hands for quiet. “Speaking of thanks, there’s someone we need to introduce to all of you. Her name’s Brynn Catalano, and she’s the one who whipped us into shape and made this festival happen. Brynn, stand up and take a bow!”

Slightly embarrassed, Brynn did as ordered. Moxie clapped in her direction, frowned and pointed to the crown still hanging from Old Faithful’s upper post. Brynn’s cheeks warmed but she plopped the crown on her head to much laughter and applause.

Movement at her side distracted her. She turned to see Sam, Libby and Casey being ushered to the bench at her side.

“Hi, guys!” She gestured to the chair. “Were you in on this?”

Libby shook her head, raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the stage, where Moxie still stood at the microphone, watching them get settled. Once everyone was seated, Moxie faced the crowd again. “Yes, folks, if we hadn’t had Brynn riding herd on us, we’d still be sitting in a conference room talking about doing a festival instead of actually, you know, pulling it together. So, Brynn, we have a special little thanks for you. Sit back and enjoy.”

The Norths filed onto the stage. Brynn couldn’t keep from switching into manager mode, checking out each costume.

Her throat tightened as Millie moved into place, her smile shaky but her chin raised high. The jeans they had decorated together were topped by an equally glittery, if still slightly stained, shirt-turned-lab-coat.

Oh, Millie.

Brynn caught her eye and blew her a kiss. Millie responded with a smile that seemed to spread all the way from her face to her suddenly skipping feet. Janice and Robert rolled their eyes but still grinned in their tie-dyes and beads. Ian and Cash looked as dorky in their eighties tracksuits and parachute pants as predicted, but they had the confidence and grins to make it look good.

Her heart squeezed a little when Ian’s arrival was met with both a jump in the applause and a buzz of whispers, and she sent up a quick prayer for his happiness. Taylor was right. He was a good guy who deserved someone who could appreciate him.

Then came Hank, bringing up the rear in spiked hair and overalls with one side left undone. He kept his gaze firmly on the steps. While the others took the stage and waved to her, he gazed into the distance, tension shimmering off of him. Because of the dance? Or because of her?

Sam’s hand closed on her arm. “Sit down,” he whispered, and it was only then that she realized she was half out of her chair. She started to protest but the first notes of the music started and she dropped into her chair in surprise. Because the lineup in front of her was not one she had created. And the song coming over the loudspeakers was not “We Are Family.”

Why were they playing “Time of My Life”?

Millie was the first to move, smiling and showing not a hint of nerves as her little hips rocked back and forth beneath her lab coat. Brynn was just catty enough to hope that Noelle and her minions were present to see the smile on Millie’s face. The other Norths joined in a few beats later, arms rising and falling in time with the slow intro. They hit the line about “owing it all to” and in unison, they pointed to Brynn.

Oh, my God.

Her hands flew to her mouth and she laughed and cried at the same time as she realized what was happening. She could read the understanding and forgiveness in their faces, even Ian’s. Hank still wasn’t looking at her, but this was good and it filled some of her emptiness, and she sat back and prepared to be amazed.

The tempo picked up. The Norths stepped and kicked and turned, moving through actions she had taught them but in a different sequence. Judging from the number of catch-up steps she saw taking place, this dance was a fairly new development. The effort was all the sweeter for knowing that they had most likely created this after Taylor, despite Carter, even with the way she had kept things from them.

If only Hank would look at her....

Millie boogied forward, lab coat flapping as she tossed her ponytail and grinned for the crowd. She was going to be the queen of the school come Monday morning. Moxie moved beside her, high-fiving her for a couple of beats. The others stepped up and the volume increased and they hit the line that said this could be love—

And Hank looked at her at last. Smiling at her. Winking at her. Pointing at her.

“Brynn?” Sam spoke into her ear. “Something you haven’t been telling me about you and the landlord?”

The other Norths turned and cha-cha’d as the chorus kicked in. At least she thought they did. She couldn’t take her eyes off Hank. His smile, his joy were all she could see for the rest of the song—with the exception of the big jump moment, when Millie flew across the stage and into her father’s arms.

The song ended. The Norths—almost all of whom finished in time with the last notes—stood grinning, chests heaving, applauding in Brynn’s direction. She rose to her feet with the rest of the audience and wiped tears from her cheeks, crying and laughing and bouncing up and down in her shoes.

Moxie reclaimed the microphone and indicated that the crowd should sit. The rest of the family clustered around her, except Hank, who clattered down the rear stairs and ran to Brynn.

“Come on.” He held out his hand.

Her hand was in his and she was on her feet before she realized she’d moved. With a last glance at the rest of the family and a fervent hope that someone was taping all of this, she let him lead her to the tent behind the stage.

“Hank, what—”

He silenced her with a kiss that was way too fast for her spinning heart. “I’ll tell you everything later. Right now I have about four minutes before I have to be up there again, five or six if Moxie stretches out her welcome like I asked, so be quiet and listen. I’m an idiot.” He kissed her right cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you.” Left cheek. “And I was lying when I said ‘just sex,’ because I think I was already halfway in love with you then, and now I—”

Whatever he was going to say could wait. Brynn yanked him close and kissed him the way she’d longed to do since he came onstage, since she told him she wanted to stay, since she woke up on his sofa and knew she was in love. She wound her arms around him and molded herself to him, feeling his heart pound against her chest, and told him, with every bit of her being, that she never wanted to be apart from him again.

“I love you,” she whispered when she came up for air, then rested her forehead against his and said it again because it sounded so right on her tongue. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said in such a dead-on Han Solo imitation that she burst into laughter until he placed one finger over her lips.

“Listen, okay? You interrupted me before I could finish.”

She bit down lightly on his finger. “Complaining?”

“Not in the least. But you’re making me forget—”

“Good.”

“Not good. Not yet. Tonight you can drive every rational thought out of my brain. But right now I need to say this.”

Her heart was pounding harder than his had been right after the dance, but she took a deep breath and mimicked Millie’s zip-across-the-lip motions.

“Thank you. Now look. Like I said, I was an idiot. I was sure—no, I was
afraid
—that you didn’t have it in you to stay with anyone or stick with anything. I think that had a lot more to do with me than it did with you. Then I finally got a clue and realized that everything you do, you do for your family.”

“You weren’t the only one who was afraid,” she said, only to clamp her lips together again at his mock scowl.

“As I was saying, once I got the rocks knocked out of my head, it was easy to see the solution. The one thing you would never do is desert your family. So it’s time to make sure that Millie and I are part of it.”

The faint rise and fall of Moxie’s voice came to a halt. Applause erupted. Hank grinned down at her.

“Time for the kickoff dance.”

She nodded and stepped away, even though it was killing her. Whatever he was about to say would have to wait. Surely she could wait five more minutes.

He shook his head, laced his fingers through hers. “Uh-uh. You’re coming, too. There’s no way we can do a dance called ‘We Are Family’ without you.”

“What?”

“Brynn.” He cupped her face between his hands. “When you gave me the notebook, even before I figured out how wrong I had been, I kept looking at your lineup and thinking someone was missing. Then I drew it all over again and put a picture of you in there, and just like that, it was perfect.”

Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“You’re part of us, Brynn. Part of me. You belong out there dancing with us, and back at the cabins with me and Millie, and in my bed every night. I want to be part of your family, and for you to be part of mine, and for us to make a whole new one together.” He grinned. “Preferably one with a real wedding so Moxie doesn’t give me hell.”