Tara’s POV
Both Soren and I froze. I was stuck half-crouched on the porch with a box slipping from my fingers and he was stuck holding onto my daughter, keeping the wild child from falling onto the floor. A beat passed.
I snapped out of it and placed the box down.
“Abby, Mr. Hawthorne is not your father,” I stated firmly, hands on my hips. “Please let the nice man go.”
Soren gently placed my daughter onto the sidewalk and Abby pouted. The scrunch of her face made her gold tiara slip down a little bit. Awkward silence fell between the three of us, before Soren’s eyes lit up with an idea.
“Abby, I have something for you,” said the man, reaching back into his car. “I figured a new home needed a welcoming gift.”
The man held out a wrapped box. Abby’s pout vanished. She squealed and
