Unexpected Family

He hadn’t been enough for her.

Only Stephanie could manage to throw his life off course when he’d finally found a way to get it back on track.

This morning he’d been checking invoices, calling his assistant managers and planning his training session for the day. Forty-two weeks left plenty of time to build strength and endurance for his first IRONMAN competition. And nothing would stop him from finishing in less than twelve hours. The average competitor finished in twelve and a half.

He was done being average.

Signing up for the triathlon had given his life meaning again. Something to strive for. Something to feel proud of.

But this...a child...changed everything.

He closed his eyes. Emotions drained him empty like at the end of a tough workout. And now he had to walk in there and meet his daughter without letting her know who he was. He’d almost called his sister Claire earlier. She knew how to handle these situations. She’d be able to tell him if Stephanie was being reasonable or manipulative. But if he called Claire, he’d have to explain...and he was not ready to tell anyone in his large family he was a father. He might not ever be ready.

God, help me out here? I don’t know what to say. I’ve barely been around kids, and now I’m meeting mine for the first time. What if I mess up? What if I scare her? Maybe Stephanie was right not to tell Macy I’m her dad yet.

Another minute ticked by before he got the nerve to hop out of his truck. Shoving his keys into the pocket of his jeans, he straightened his long-sleeved black T-shirt. He could do this, meet Macy without intimidating her.

Inside, he scanned the busy restaurant to find Stephanie. Typical fast-food sounds surrounded him—the beeps of the registers, the muted chatter of customers waiting in line and the occasional shout of a kid. The place smelled like French fries. His heartbeat paused at the sight of Stephanie sitting next to the little girl with dark brown waves flowing down her back. The child didn’t look up until he stopped at their table.

“Thanks for joining us.” Stephanie’s tone was pleasant, assertive, but she couldn’t mask the uncertainty in her eyes. “Macy, this is an old friend of mine, Tom.”

The girl’s tiny face with creamy skin and raspberry lips stole his breath. Even prettier than her picture. Her faded-blue-jean eyes matched his exactly. It took everything in him not to swoop her up and crush her to him. He knew in an instant he would do anything—anything—for this little girl.

“Hi, Macy. How’s your arm?” He gestured to the black sling and sat across from her at the table. His knee bounced triple time.

“It doesn’t hurt. I don’t need this anymore.” She started ripping the Velcro from her sling, but Stephanie placed her hand over it.

“The doctor said you have to wear it for a few weeks.”

Macy pushed her bottom lip out. “It’s ’noying, Mama.”

“I know. But it’s there for your wrist to heal.”

She grimaced, dunking a chicken nugget into barbecue sauce before taking a nibble. Stephanie’s gaze darted here and there like a wild rabbit’s, and the silence stretched to uncomfortable proportions.

What now? He had no idea what to say to either of them. Didn’t have much experience with kids. Or ex-wives. If he had known—

He could have what? Prepared? Yeah, right.

“Did you want something to eat?” Stephanie’s smile was tight around the edges.

The bruises couldn’t hide her delicate bone structure, the rich brown of her eyes. Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, but just as dark and shiny. He’d been so caught up in the revelation of having a daughter, he’d barely registered Stephanie until this moment.

“Uh.” He hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he wasn’t hungry, either. “I’m not sure.”

Macy cupped her hand around her mouth as she whispered loudly to Stephanie. “Why is he here if he’s not eating?” Stephanie gave him a pointed look.

What an idiot. Here he was, a strange guy showing up at their meal and not ordering anything. Even a kid knew it was fishy. No wonder Stephanie worried.

“Maybe I’ll get a salad.” He rapped his knuckles on the table.

“Are you sure about that, mister?” Macy frowned. “Salad has lettuce and tomatoes in it. My grandpa always gets a cheeseburger when he comes here.”

He grinned. “I like cheeseburgers and fries, too, but I have to eat healthy.”

“Why?”

“I’m training for a triathlon.”

She munched on a fry. “What’s a...tri...what’d you call it?”

“A triathlon. It’s called the IRONMAN competition.”

“Noah has an Iron Man backpack. Do you get a red suit, too?” Her hopeful expression made him want to tell her yes, he’d be the real Iron Man when he crossed the finish line. But he shook his head.

“No, it’s not that kind of Iron Man. It’s where a bunch of people swim, ride their bikes and run. It’s a race.”

“I have to use training wheels. Tatum has pink sparkly streamers on her bike, but mine doesn’t have any.” The pitiful look she gave her mother almost made Tom chuckle. Cute. He could get used to her matter-of-fact tone and still-developing pronunciation. No, he would get used to it.

“You’re blessed to have a bike at all, Macy.” Stephanie pointed to the Happy Meal. “Keep eating those nuggets.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Do you like swimming, Macy? I live right next to a big lake. My brothers and dad and I go fishing all summer.”

Stephanie’s wary glance speared him, but he kept his attention on Macy.

“My grandpa and I make sand castles at the beach. But Mommy and I moved to a ’partment.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “I’m going to tell Noah about the race. He takes swim lessons, but he’s too scared to jump off the board. Do you think if he jumps in the pool, he could be the Iron Man, too?”

Tom nodded. “Sure. When he gets older. Anyone who finishes the race is an Iron Man.”

“You silly pants, there’s only one.” She wiggled her finger, and her face lit up.

Stephanie ran her hand over Macy’s hair. “The IRONMAN Tom’s talking about isn’t what you’re thinking.”

Best to let Stephanie explain. He went to the register, waited for the salad, then slid back into his seat.

“I’m going to kin-dee-garden when I’m five.” She held out five splayed fingers with her free hand.

“Wow, kindergarten.”

Macy continued, “I can count real high.”

“How high?” He tore the packet of dressing open and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“Real high. One, two, three...”

When she got to forty-five, Stephanie touched her arm. “Okay, we got it. You’re a good counter.”