A few months later
"Sing louder," Kieran commanded, though he wasn't looking at the crowd. His eyes were fixed entirely on the tiny, blonde-haired girl sitting in the high chair like it was a throne.
At only one year old, she already had a way of staring people down that made the room go quiet.
"We're singing, Kieran! Any louder and the windows will shatter," I laughed.
Ever since Hanalei was born, I'd officially been demoted. I used to be the center of Kieran's world, but now? I was just the lady who helped Hanalei get dressed. They weren't just father and daughter; they were like a tiny, terrifying boyfriend-girlfriend duo. They had the same smirk, the same stubborn set to their jaws, and the same bluish-green eyes—a perfect, rare blend of Kieran's blue and my green.
