An easy happiness fills my chest at the sight of her happy face and head of dark curls as she polishes it off, then declares, “All gone.”
“Good job, Sweetheart,” a deep voice praises.
I was too busy watching Molly to hear Sullivan come in.
“She ate it all, Daddy,” I tell him.
Molly beams at him with pride.
“You ate all of it? You mean, Daddy doesn’t get a panda?”
Sullivan walks into the room, his hands pushed into his dark blue pant pockets. No matter what suit he has on, he always manages to make me think it’s my favorite. The one that suits him the most. Shows his broad shoulders the best. Highlights his blue eyes. Picks up the shine in his dark hair that he wears cut short above his collar.
It’s not him I’m drawn to. I just see so many suits worn each morning on my shifts at Caffeine Couture, that I’m beginning to recognize the best fitted ones. The Tom Fords, the Brionis. And then there are the ones that are specially designed for the wearer, with specialist tailors flown in to fit them.
Like Sullivan’s.
They’re really quite beautiful.
“There’s still one panda with your name on it, if you want it?” I hold the pot out and offer the lone rice ball to him.
“No, I’m good.”
“Daddy, eat it,” Molly pipes up.
I try not to laugh at Sullivan’s perplexed frown as he gazes at the panda like it might get up and actually start walking.
“Not one for ‘Serious Sullivan’, hey?” I say as I stand and start packing up the lunch things.
“Serious Sullivan?” He arches a brow and I try not tosmirk. It’s definitely gotten much easier working for him since I came back. He’s kept to his promise of treating me with respect. I’d go as far to say he’s even friendly on occasion.
“Yeah.” I shrug, deciding to tease him. Whatever happened in his meeting has gotten him looking all tense, and I hate that. “‘Silly Sully’would eat the panda.”
He looks at me like I just suggested a ‘come to work nude day’ for the entire office.
“Silly Sully?” he repeats so slowly that my stomach twists. His eyes penetrate mine and I halt my tidying up.
I went too far.
“Eat pan-da!” Molly demands.
Sullivan’s face softens and he crouches down level with her. “Daddy’s not hungry, Sweetheart. But they look yummy.”
“Pan-da.” Molly does a great job of mimicking his scowl I often see as she stands her ground.
“Tate. A panda please, if you’d be so kind.” He holds his hand out to the side, pretending to sound defeated.
Molly giggles in delight as I place the small rice animal in his palm and he stuffs it into his mouth like a monkey without table manners, then makes a big show of chewing it and making lots of ‘mm’ and ‘yum’ noises as he devours it in a few seconds.
I can’t help but smile that I get to witness this side of him. The one no one else except his daughter and family see. There’s something special about seeing a big, serious guy, who can go from looking like he’s about to tear someone’s head off in business, to ruffling his daughter’s hair while he acts like a doofus to make her laugh, a moment later. Something really special.
“Grandad can’t come and get you for a little while, okay?” Sullivan tells Molly. “He has to look after Halliday.”
“O-kay,” she answers with the easy acceptance of an almost three-year-old as she heads off to pick up a toy to playwith.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, noting the way Sullivan rubs at his temples with one hand.
“Halliday’s bleeding. Not much, but enough that they want to get checked out and make sure the baby is okay. He said he’ll call when he knows more.”
