Page 47 of His Surrender

The words come more easily now.

“I don’t want them seeing her as the little girl whose mother died.” I swallow hard. “Or wondering what kind of life she’s going to have because she doesn’t have one.”

My throat tightens. “I know my friends. I know they’ll be kind.”

I let out a slow breath. “But sometimes, kindness looks a lot like pity.”

A hush falls over the room for several seconds before Aubrey speaks.

“I don’t think that’s what they’ll see.”

I glance over at her.

“I think they’ll see a little girl who has a dad who loves her more than anything.”

I don’t answer because I’m not sure I believe that love is enough.

She continues gently, “You can’t change how Liana came into this world.”

“No.”

“You can’t change what happened to her mom.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“But you get to shape everything that happens next.” Her words settle somewhere deep inside me. “You’ve spent the last four weeks worrying about what she lost. I have a feeling everyone else is going to notice what she has.”

I follow her gaze. Liana stirs in her sleep before settling again.

A tiny smile spreads across her face. Without thinking, one spreads across mine too.

“I didn’t look at it that way.”

“I know.” She nudges my shoulder again. “That’s why you have me.”

The words leave her mouth so naturally that I don’t think she realizes what she said, but I do.

For the first time in weeks … the knot in my chest loosens just a bit.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AUBREY

Dean’s words from last night keep replaying in my head as I wander through the baby boutique.

“I don’t want people feeling sorry for her.”

At first, I hadn’t understood why he was so worried. His friends were coming over to meet Liana.

Shouldn’t that be exciting?

But when he explained it, I saw a man who was already trying his hardest to protect his daughter. It was a side of him I hadn’t realized existed.

I stop in front of a display of little dresses and smile down at Liana.

She’s wide awake, her bright blue eyes following the spinning leaves hanging from a mobile suspended above the rack.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to pity you,” I whisper.