“I dunno.”
“That’s okay, too. Sometimes it can be really hard to put what we’re feeling into words, especially when those feelings are really big.”
Tears sting my eyes and I sniffle quietly. “All my feelings are really big.”
“I’m sorry. That’s really hard.”
Her quiet understanding threatens to break me. But before the words can come tumbling out of me, a commotion draws Miss Evelyn’s attention to the front door just as Victoria comes barreling through.
“Miss Evelyn, Miss Evelyn, I’m back!” Eyes wide, Victoria skids to a stop in the middle of the room. “What is she doing here?”
Dread settles heavy in my stomach. “Hi, Victoria,” I manage to squeak out, even though my mouth is dry as the Sahara and my throat feels so tight I can barely breathe.
With that same comforting smile from before, Miss Evelyn settles her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “Camilla is going to be joining us from now on. Her Daddy just dropped her off a few minutes ago.”
Victoria’s mouth drops open. “HerDaddy? Who—oh my god. Please tell me Dr. Dreadful isn’t your Daddy!”
Before I can respond, Maxwell Stone enters the room shaking his head. “What have I told you about that nickname, little thief? It’s going to get back to Doctor D at some point and I won’t be able to save you from his wrath.”
Dr. Dreadful? Is that what they call him?
It’s such a perfect name, I can’t help but let out a little snort of laughter. “I like it.”
Mr. Stone raises a brow at me. “And how do you think your Daddy will feel about it?”
The honest answer is that he would love it. But he’d also use it as an excuse to be even meaner than usual to all the Littles. Which means he can never, ever find out.
Jerking my chin up, I meet Mr. Stone’s gaze. “I don’t care what he thinks.”
His brow lifts even higher. “Is that so?”
There’s an undercurrent to his words that sends my heart racing. But I’ve gone toe to toe with sadistic Dr. Dreadful, so I’m sure as hell not backing down from some billionaire with a god complex. “It is so.”
Mr. Stone’s lips twitch with open amusement and the hammering of my heart slows a little. “Hmm. You’ll have to tell me how that works out for you.”
Ignoring that ominous statement, I return my focus to the truck in front of me, full of the little alphabet blocks. And try to block out the conversation happening two feet from me.
“Daddy, I wanna go home.” Victoria is whispering, but her voice is so loud she might as well be shouting.
“What’s wrong, little one? Do you still feel yucky?”
Right. Strep throat. Poor Victoria.
“Um, yeah.” Her cough is so forced, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Victoria Rose. Are you lying to me?”
Uh-oh. Mr. Stone soundsmad.
Obviously I’m not the only one who hears it, because Victoria immediately starts dancing from foot to foot, her voice pitching up to a whine. “No! I really do wanna go home.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it, little girl. Are you still feeling sick?”
A long silence stretches between them, practically filling the room with tension before Victoria finally sighs. “No, Daddy, I don’t feel sick.”
“Then tell the truth. Why do you want to go home?”
“I justdo.”
