“Always.” I rub her cheek with my thumb, studying her pretty brown eyes as I give her a warm smile.
That’s all she needs right now. Someone who loves her.
How many times have I been that little girl, over and over in my life, despite getting older every year?
And without that steady constant, you can find yourself floundering like I was for over a decade. Not this time. Notthislittle girl. I hug her closer and sink onto the pillow. “Get some rest, sweetie. One more sleep to go.”
“One more sleep and Daddy’s home...” Maise yawns, her eyes fluttering closed.
When her breathing settles, I brush her hair from her face and extricate myself from the tangle of covers and limbs. Pulling the door closed, I pad to Quin’s room.
The second I open the door, his sandalwood and spice hits me...
Maise isn’t the only one who misses Daddy.
I scoff at the thought, but the amusement fades as I realize I do. I do miss him. Things feel off-balance without him. Not grounded and certain, just anxiously floating somewhere up near the ceiling, like a hot burst of a summer afternoon squall.
I ready for bed and crawl beneath the covers. But this time, I make a point of sleeping on Quin’s side. With Dad in the home and Maise in her own bed, the reminder of Quin is all that I can grab onto.
I hope he’s making progress with Maisey’s mom. God, I can’t imagine how life would be without Maise in it. Quin must be beside himself. I know I would be.
Losing Dad to his disease, even though he is only miles away, was hard enough. And he’s my parent, not my child.
Suddenly, the thought of life without Maise—without Quin is too small. My chest caves in on itself, and a weight I can’t explain settles in the space.
Would Quin leave if he lost Maisey? He only moved here to give her a better childhood. This house would still be his, but would he want to stay if it was just him rattling around in it?
God, I should have gone with him.
Maybe I could have helped?
The door creaks open, and a small figure pads to the other side of the bed and slides in. Before I can take stock, I’m reaching for her, pulling her close and wrapping the blanket around the both of us.
“CC?” she says, her little voice so small and wobbly.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Maise.”
Her fingers curl around the opening of my pajama shirt.
Love you, too, sweet girl.
And I miss your daddy more than I thought I could ever miss another human being.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
QUINTON
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I grind my molars like they’re responsible for the clusterfuck in front of me right now.
“Language, Quinton.” Stella frowns, sending a hand over her two-piece skirt suit that’s far too short to be appropriate. “See, red flag right there. What kind of parent uses that kind of profanity regularly?”
“You want to talk about red flags? Woman, you’re a goddamn walking red flag.”
