Marrying the Man in the Dark

Sunlight danced across the gold–trimmed furniture of the luxurious suite, catching in the golden strands of Serafina’s hair as Beckham patiently combed them. “Come on, I want Pigtails, Grandpa!”

Her voice was as bright as the diamonds on her tiny fingers, “Pigtails are so cute! Mommy and Daddy will love them!”

But before Beckham could agree, a small voice cut in, a hint of disapproval lacing in its childish tone. “Not yet, Sera,”

Soren said, his brow furrowed. “He’s not our Daddy… yet. Calling him that now might make him a bit too full of himself.”

Serafina’s face fell, her bottom lip trembling. “But he is! Grandpa said so, he even guaranteed!”

Beckham smiled, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Serafine spun towards Soren, her eyes, like dark jewels, locking on his. “Look in the mirror, mister! You’re practically Daddy’s twin! If he’s not our Daddy, then who is?”

avoiding her gaze. “I didn’t say he isn’t,” he mumbled, “just… maybe

her tone to barely a whisper. “Whether early or

around, eyes sparkling. “Grandpa! Why’re you brushing my hair? Sera never

young, she was still a mountain girl, running barefoot through

that after Charisa disappeared, Gwenn was the last connection between him and

his biological daughter. She was like a lifeline after his wife disappeared, the last

poured all his love into Gwenn, raising her into someone independent and fearless. Perhaps this

obsessed with his bong with Gwenn that he convinced himself blood didn’t matter, that their bend, stronger than family, would always be enough.

And now, as he gently

sweetheart, I never brushed your mom’s hair when