“Oh my God,” Victor breathed.
Lily wasn’t wearing a pretty anything. She was barefoot, her face free of makeup and she had on a pair of faded, battered, what appeared to be army trousers and skin-tight, lilac camisole that showed her thin shoulders and arms.
It also showed slight purple and yellow marks around her upper arms, bruises that looked like they were made by a set of hands, bruises that could only have been caused by Victor.
Regardless of this she somehow, to Nate, looked unconsciously, undeniably beautiful.
Before anyone could say another word, Natasha’s head went back. Nate’s hand dropped from it and she looked up at him, her dark eyes, his dark eyes, dancing merrily.
“I’ve been watching for you all morning. It seems like for… eh… ver! I thought you were never going to get here!”
Apparently, however Lily broke the news, she’d done it well.
Natasha’s head jerked around so she could look at her mother but she kept her arms firmly around Nate’s hips.
“Look, Mummy, Daddy’s here,” she told her mother unnecessarily.
At the sound of her calling him “Daddy”, Nate felt that uncomfortable squeeze matched by a slice through his gut.
Lily’s stunned gaze slid from the early arrived crowd and then her face melted into a smile as she looked at her daughter.
“I can see that, baby doll.”
Nate was staring at Lily’s soft smile, feeling her endearment to her daughter, his daughter, their daughter, wash over him when Natasha’s head came back around and she looked at Nate.
“Mummy told me last night you were coming,” she informed him.
“Did she?” Nate murmured.
Natasha nodded gaily. “Yes, she told me she found out you were alive and you wanted to meet me straight away.” Then she took her arms from around him, held them out at her sides and announced, “Here I am!”
Nate stared in fascination at the beautiful child he and Lily had created. She was, quite simply, not to be believed. Her eyes were sparkling, her heart was open and the sunny smile never left her gorgeous face. It was clear to anyone that she was happy to see him, beyond happy, she was thrilled.
He had no idea what to say or do. Never, not once in his entire life had he been so uncertain of his next course of action.
Luckily, Natasha was not so uncertain.
She leaned into him. “Who are they?” she whispered loudly.
Nate looked around at Laura and Victor, who he had, while seeing and touching his daughter for the first time in her life, entirely forgotten.
He saw Laura had tears shimmering in her eyes. Victor was standing absolutely still, his chest puffed out with the effort he was making at holding back tears.
Nate settled his hand on the nape of his daughter’s neck. He found it strange, how small it was, tiny and fragile, and felt a protective urge settle in him that was beyond his control, should he ever wish to control it, which he never would. He guided her closer to his body, moved to her side and out of the way so she could fully see her grandparents. He looked down at her as she leaned trustingly against his side. This he found strange, this unquestioning trust, strange and something else, something extraordinary.
“These are my parents,” he answered her.
Natasha’s expressive eyes rounded with surprise and her head again jerked back to her mother and again her body stayed in contact with Nate’s.
Nate followed his daughter’s gaze and saw that Lily hadn’t moved but she had been joined by a funny-looking man with a shock of black hair, black eyes, a pointed, black goatee and a supremely rounded stomach. He stood with his hands on his hips, his feet planted so far apart he looked in danger of toppling over and he had an expression on his face so fierce, Nate was surprised the man hadn’t turned Nate to stone.
This, Nate thought correctly, must be Fazire.
Nate’s thoughts were interrupted by his daughter breathing the word, “Grandparents,” in her mother’s direction. Her voice sounded like someone had just bestowed a rich and untapped diamond mine on her as a gift.
At the sound of the catch of Laura’s breath, a catch that heralded tears, Natasha’s head swung back around. As if sensing innately that Laura needed it, Natasha disengaged from Nate and walked forward then ran the last few steps and threw herself, luckily less forcefully, at Laura. Her arms closed around Laura’s waist and she proclaimed, “Nanna!”
Immediately Laura burst into tears and Victor looked away, not willing to be unmanned in front of an audience or at all, for that matter.
Nate saw a movement to his side and turned to see Lily joining him, standing too far away for him to touch her. She was watching this meeting with a strange, benign expression on her face but held her body rigidly as if waiting for something to attack.
When Nate would have spoken, moved toward her, caught her attention in some way, Natasha tore from the embrace Laura was now giving her to hurtle herself at Victor and give him one of her fierce hugs with a cry of, “Granddad!”
Victor immediate dropped into a crouch and pulled the child between his legs, hugging her just as tightly as she was hugging him.
Lily allowed this for a moment and then she called to her daughter, “Tash, honey, come inside. I’m sure your, um… they would all like a cup of tea.”
Natasha pulled away from Victor and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Do you want tea?” she asked him, her head tilting enquiringly to the side.
Victor didn’t speak, likely couldn’t speak, he just nodded.
She pulled free of Victor and half-danced, half-skipped back to Nate whose hand she grabbed.
“Great idea, Mummy.” She quirked a smile at her mother and Nate’s body stilled at the sight. His daughter’s smile, that familiar smile, was the only thing it appeared she’d inherited from her mother.
She had Lily’s endearing, quirky smile.
Natasha continued. “While you make tea, I’ll show them my bedroom!” She said this like it would delight and surprise them beyond their wildest imaginings.
Natasha pulled Nate forward with her hand tugging at his and Nate walked toward the house. Lily fell in step behind them, not, he noticed, beside them.
As they drew nearer the house, Fazire still stood with hands on h*ps and with a ferocious expression firmly affixed to his face.
“That’s Fazire, he’s our special friend,” Natasha made the introduction happily. “Stop scowling Fazire,” she warned him, her voice bossy, loving and teasing at the same time. She dragged Nate right passed the other man who did not move an inch. Then Natasha whispered, “Don’t mind him, he’s been in a really bad mood for at least a week.”