“I’d love to feed Miss Rosie.”
I turned to find Malik reappearing from the kitchen, an easy smile on his face.
Rosie immediately extended her arms toward him as if this were the natural choice.
I stiffened.
“I’m perfectly capable of feeding Rosie,” I said coolly, sniffing my displeasure at him.
“I’m sure you are,” Malik said smoothly, his gaze unreadable. “But I’d love to feed her.”
I wrapped my arms protectively around Rosie, determined to keep her close, but she pushed me away.
“I want Malik!” she declared.
I blinked, stunned, and glanced at Emily.
She gave a subtle shrug, leaving the decision entirely to me.
With reluctance, tightening my chest, I lifted Rosie from my lap and set her on the floor. “Go to Malik,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone. “Let’s see if he has better success.”
Doubtful…
Rosie tottered toward him, her small feet padding against the floor.
Malik scooped her into the air and tossed her high.
I shot to my feet, my heart lurching as instinct screamed at me to catch her, as if I could reach her in time.
But Malik caught her effortlessly, his arms sure, his movements fluid.
Then—
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
The act was so uncharacteristic—so full of love and care—that I could only stare.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Malik said, moving to his chair at the opposite end of the table. He patted the seat beside him, and Rosie eagerly climbed up, her little head barely visible over the table’s edge.
Malik handed her a spoon, and Rosie wasted no time.
She scooped a bite of stew and chomped down, humming with delight.
Rosie ate with relish, licking her fingers between bites.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.
Well.
Malik was better at feeding children than I was.
And for some reason?—
That bothered me.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” He slid his napkin out from under his silverware and handed it to Rosie. “Where are your manners?”
Rosie obediently took the napkin, wiping her face with an exaggerated grin.
