The Brightest Light of Sunshine

There are very few things in life that make me break out in a cold sweat.

In fact, I’m pretty sure the thought of something bad happening to Maddie and Grace is the only thing capable of making me feel anxious these days.

Only, that’s a lie.

Because as I sit back for the hundredth time on the too-small plane seat while Grace writes her book, I realize with no short amount of panic that there’s something else I should add to that panic list—meeting Grace’s dads.

Listen, it took me nearly an hour to make up my mind about the clothes I wanted to take on this four-day trip when I usually stuff my suitcase without even looking. That should give you a clear idea of what my head is going through right now.

From our scarce conversations about her dads, I’ve gathered that the one parent I should worry about is Daniel Allen, who she calls Dad. Apparently, Daddy Marcus is a lot more easygoing and will probably like me the second we shake hands. It doesn’t ease my nerves, though. Not one bit.

When I told him I was going to meet his uncles, Aaron only laughed and wished me luck. The fucking bastard.

“Ugh,” Grace groans next to me. She rubs her eyes, a tired look on her face, and pulls out her earphones. “My brain’s fried.”

“You did good today. Come here.” I open my arms and she snuggles against my chest. Looking at the time on my phone, I realize we only have another twenty or so more minutes of flight time and I get anxious again.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” she points out, frowning as she untangles herself from my arms. I instantly miss her warmth. “You aren’t scared of flying, are you?”

I arch an amused eyebrow. “I think you would know by now if I were a nervous flyer.”

“What’s wrong, then?”

I don’t even debate whether to tell her or keep it to myself. This is Grace. “I’m kind of nervous about meeting the dads.”

That gets me a teasing smile. “Aw, are you now? That’s so cute.”

I shift uncomfortably on my seat again. Seriously, I know I’m taller than average, but economy is still a sick joke. “Don’t taunt me, sunshine, or I’ll have to spank you when we get back home.”

Her breath hitches only for a moment before the amusement is back. She lowers her voice until it’s only a whisper in my ear, “Don’t you want to spank me in my childhood bedroom, Cal?”

My hand finds her leg, thick fingers covering the entire span of her thigh. I click my tongue. “Such a filthy mouth, sweetheart. Don’t make me shut you up with my cock.”

The little shit bites my earlobe before pulling away, noticing the effect she has on me and how inconvenient it is at this very moment when we can do nothing about it. “For real, though, I promise you have nothing to worry about. They’ll love you, I’m sure of it,” she says like she hasn’t just given me a massive hard-on in the middle of a flight.

Not being able to resist, I peck her lips. “I know it’s worse in my head than it’ll be in real life, but I’ve never done the whole ‘meet the parents’ shebang, so.”

Her eyes almost pop out of the sockets. “You haven’t?”

“No,” I confess. “My last relationship was never serious enough to ever consider it.”

“Oh.” She bites down on her lower lip, looking down at my hand still on her thigh. When she glances back at me, I see vulnerability in her beautiful eyes. But I also see a hint of insecurity, and I don’t like that.

“What’s on your mind?” I press another kiss to her forehead.

“This may sound silly and totally not a conversation we should have on a plane, but…” She bites her lip again. “How serious are we?”

One look at her is enough to see this matters to her. I would admit it’s not a conversation we’ve had yet, not explicitly at least, but I thought…

Never mind what I thought.

If my girl needs reassurance, I’ll give it to her.

“As serious as it gets, Grace,” I tell her in earnest. “I’m in for the long run.”

She relaxes at that. “Okay.” She smiles. “I am, too.”

Just then, the seatbelt signs light up and the pilot announces we’re minutes away from landing. As Grace grabs my hand and presses a kiss to my tattooed knuckles, the nerves about meeting her dads come back.

I force myself to remember they’re just normal people.

They can’t be worse than Aaron, can they?

***

In my blinding craze about meeting the parents, I completely forgot Grace told me they would be picking us up from the airport.

Which is why, the moment we cross the arrival gates into the terminal and she jumps into the awaiting arms of a tall, blond man, I freeze on the spot.

“Dad!” she exclaims, ditching her suitcase before I take hold of it. Burying her face in her dad’s chest, she mumbles, “I missed you both so much.”

“We missed you too, honey,” says a tall black man beside her. He presses a quick kiss on her hair before turning to me with an easy smile. “You must be Cal. I’m Marcus, Grace’s dad.”

When he extends a hand in my direction, it only takes me half a second to shake it and snap out of it. “Nice to meet you, sir. Thanks for having me.”

“Pleasure is all ours.” His body language seems relaxed, and it manages to put me at ease. Just a tiny bit.

When Grace moves on to hug Marcus, though, and leaves me with Daniel, the air changes and my shoulders become heavy under his scrutinizing gaze. Being a couple of inches shorter than me, lean body, and kind eyes, he doesn’t look particularly intimidating at first. Not when Marcus is standing right there, just as tall as me and with huge muscles packed under his jacket.

Yet it’s Daniel who makes my skin prickle.

I push the anxious feeling in my stomach away as I extend my hand. “Nice you meet you too, sir.”

He hesitates only for a second before shaking it, but it’s enough to make me want to shit myself. Is it possible that he hates me already? Is it my tattoos?

I’m painfully aware of the way certain people judge men like me, fully covered in ink, thinking we’re dangerous criminals or some shit. While most of my tattoos are hidden under the black hoodie I’m wearing, the ones on my knuckles are very much visible. But that can’t be. I remember clearly how Grace said her dads encouraged her to get a tattoo. That has to mean they aren’t against them, right? They don’t think I’m a thug. Hopefully.

My thoughts aren’t making any sense, and that’s how I know I’m nervous beyond fucking repair.

“Daniel,” is the only thing Dad says.

Sensing the tension radiating off my body, Grace links her arm through her Dad’s and starts walking ahead, chatting animatedly.

“Let me grab that.” Marcus reaches for his daughter’s suitcase and, although it’s pretty small and I could carry both hers and mine, I don’t want to come across as an asshole who thinks he’s too strong to accept help.

So instead, I say, “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Marcus.” He throws me another easy smile as we make our way behind Grace and Daniel. “How was your flight? I hope the remnants of the storm weren’t much of a pain in the ass.”

I never thought I’d hear the words ‘pain in the ass’ from Grace’s very serious-looking corporate lawyer father—not within two minutes of meeting him, anyway—so I can’t help a small chuckle.

“There were a few turbulences, but nothing too terrible. I don’t even think Grace noticed with how furiously she was writing her book.”

I don’t miss his nostalgic smile. “She used to write a lot when she was a young girl. I’m sure we still have some of her short stories at home somewhere.” Then, he surprises me once more by leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “She’ll threaten to kill all three of us if we ever showed you, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

I laugh, and I’m about to answer when Grace turns her head abruptly and narrows her eyes at us. “Can’t you at least wait until we get home to gang up on me?”

Marcus doesn’t miss a beat. “No can do, sweetie. You know I’ve been waiting forever to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend. Don’t take this away from me now.”

Grace rolls her eyes, unable to hide her amusement, and Daniel smiles too as he takes the car keys out of his pocket.

Half an hour later, we park in front of a three-story house with white bricks and a perfectly manicured front yard. “This is where I grew up.” Grace leans over to my seat and points to a window in the second story. “That’s my room right there.”

Once we get the luggage out of the car, Grace grabs my hand and tugs at me with pure excitement shining on her face. “Come on. I want to show you everything.”

I can’t help but gape at the interior of the house. It’s definitely on the luxurious side, far better than anything I’ve seen growing up.

The ground floor consists of a small foyer, a half-bath and a huge open concept kitchen and living room. The TV mounted on the wall right in front of the L shaped couch probably costs more than my rent alone. It smells nice and clean, almost flowery, and from the kitchen and dining area I spot quite a big garden with a bunch of flowers and trees.

This is the kind of place I envision Maddie growing up in.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Grace asks me, opening the fridge and scanning every shelf.

“Water’s fine.” She gets a bottle for her and another for me. When she hands it to me, our fingers brush and I lean in, ready to give her a kiss when I hear her fathers’ distant voices behind us.

Grace frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I lower my voice in a way that is almost comical. “Can I kiss you here?”

She snorts. “Of course you can, Cal. Why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know. Maybe your dads have some kind of ‘no kissing under our roof’ policy?”

At that, she bursts out laughing and the sound of her unapologetic happiness makes breathing a little easier. “Come here, dumbass.”

Before I’ve got time to react, her small hand comes behind my neck and pulls me towards her until our lips meet. But of course, of course, someone clears their throat behind us right on cue and I die inside.

Grace pulls away, cheeks bright red, and looks over my shoulder. “Um, hi.”

“Hi, dear daughter. How’s it going?” I recognize Marcus’ voice just as he comes into my line of vision, an amused grin on his face. “Are you guys hungry? We were thinking we could have an early dinner.”

“S-Sure,” she stammers.

“Sounds good to me,” I add. My heart is still racing so fast I think I might pass out. Talk about utterly mortifying.

As the next couple of hours go by, the tension slowly unwraps itself from my body. Turns out Grace’s dads are some of the most easygoing, welcoming men I’ve ever come across—yes, even Daniel. I can tell he watches my every move, analyses my every word, but it doesn’t bother me.

I get it. If my daughter had gone through hell and suddenly got a boyfriend and brought him home, I would interrogate the hell out of him FBI style the second he crossed the threshold.

Both men ask me about myself, my childhood in Warlington, my job and even my sister. I’m sure Grace has already told them the basics about me, but I appreciate the interest, nonetheless. The moment everything shifts, though, is when Marcus asks his daughter to show them her new tattoo.

“Sometimes I forget I even have it.” Grace chuckles as she rolls up her sweater until the ink under her bra strip is visible.

Marcus leans in to soak in every detail. “It’s so elegant,” he murmurs, almost in awe.

Daniel turns to me. “You did this?”

I swallow. “Yes, sir.”

Grace gives me a funny look before turning to her dads again. “It hurt a bit, but he was super quick. And you can’t even see it when I’m in my ballet clothes, so that’s a bonus.”

“You can always cover it up with makeup,” I tell her, my eyes fixed on the little two suns on her ribs. “I can recommend you a couple of good brands if you want.”

She gives me a small, sheepish smile. “Thank you.”

Daniel seems to be focused on the same spot I am, because he points to his daughter’s tattoo and asks, “Why the suns?”

“And the comma?” Marcus adds.

Grace’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of red as she explains my thought process behind the design and how it has to do with my nickname for her. Something akin to understanding passes her dads’ eyes and that’s when Daniel stops looking at me like he’s ready to attack at any given moment.

Once we finish having dinner and Grace and I help clean up despite her dads’ protests, both of us carry our luggage upstairs and I take a look at the second floor. There are three bedrooms here—the master’s, Grace’s and another for guests, right next to a full bathroom. On the third floor there’s an attic that used to be Grace’s playroom, but when she moved out, they transformed it into some kind of movie room and home gym combined.

I’m about to head to the guest room when Grace’s hand on my wrist stops me. “Where are you going?”

“To… my room?”

“Absolutely not. You’re sleeping with me.”

“Um, are you sure about that?” I scratch the back of my neck. “Did you ask your dads for permission?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “One, I’m an adult woman and I can do what I want. This is my house too. And two, yes, I told them I wanted you to stay in my room and they said as long as I’m comfortable I can do what I want.”

I nod. “All right. I just don’t want to make things awkward.”

“You won’t.” She stands on her tiptoes and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Come on, let me show you my room.”

When she opens the door, we’re instantly greeted with the smell of fresh flowers. Grace looks confused for a moment before we spot the fresh bouquet on her desk at the same time, and she gasps.

“These are so beautiful.” She buries her nose in the white and purple bouquet and smiles at the note. “They’re from my dads.”

“They love you very much.” I hug her from behind and rest my head on top of hers. “Do you want to go downstairs and thank them?”

“Later.” She turns around to look at me. “Now, let me give you a room tour.”

Grace’s childhood bedroom is roughly the same size as my room in my apartment, but hers is far cozier. A queen-sized bed with fresh sheets takes up half the space. There’s a nightstand with a lamp, a white rug, an empty-looking desk and a big wardrobe. The walls are decorated with pictures of family holidays, ballet recitals, and even selfies of Grace with her three friends from college. One photo in particular catches my eye.

“Is this who I think it is?” I chuckle at the two kids playing in the snow. Grace, who couldn’t have been older than five or six, has her little hands buried on the snow while Aaron, who still has that same playful smile today, sits next to her with a huge snowball on his lap.

“We were on a family trip to Sunshine Village years ago.” She smiles fondly at the picture.

“Sunshine Village, huh?” I tease her. “It seems like the nickname has always followed you one way or another.”

When she looks at me again, the intensity in her eyes melts me. “Seems like it.”

Despite not being particularly late, we decide to call it a day so we don’t feel miserably tired tomorrow. Grace goes downstairs to catch up with her dads for a bit while I take a shower and Facetime Maddie before she goes to bed. She comes back in time to say goodnight to my sister and after that we get into bed ourselves.

I open my arms on instinct and she tangles herself between them. “I love you,” she mumbles against my chest, her voice already sounding tired.

“I love you too, sunshine. Sleep well.” With one last kiss on her forehead, I close my eyes and sleep finds me in minutes.