"How about you tell me whatever you feel comfortable sharing?"
His eyes widen a fraction, but with a few rapid-fire blinks, he reins in his expression, nods, and begins explaining in his calm, slightly accented way of speaking. "Mabel's mother, Evie, got caught up with some bad people. She ended up paying with her life. Mabel is all I have left of my—her."
I suck in a breath. I knew I wasn't going to get a fairy tale, but I wasn't expectingthat.
"I—I'm so sorry." I can barely get the words out.
He smiles sadly and quietly says, "Thank you."
Awkward seconds tick by in silence until Mabel suddenly squeals in delight.
I jump on it. "You know, she's quickly become one of my favorite people."
His energy lifts as he looks at his daughter. "She's amazing, isn't she?"
"Her sleeping ability certainly is."
He smiles, turning to look at me. "She slept while we were running."
"She slept the whole way here, too." I return his smile. "It's a gift."
"It is." Sadness punctuates the air as he adds, "I can't remember the last time I had a proper night's sleep."
7
Vaughn
I lock the door to the office, swing theOpensign around toFucked off to Go Fishing, and when I turn, I'm greeted by a smiling Clayton carrying a bag of takeout.
"Hi."
"Hello." He takes a step toward me, but his eyes aren't meeting mine. They're focused on my chest. Well, on the precious cargo attached to my chest. "How are you, Princess?"
Mabel waves her arms, letting out a few happy little coos in response.
"You're back early," I say as we step onto the pier.
"You've noticed?"
Heat crawls up my neck. I've been back a few days, and yes, I've noticed Clayton's routine. Out by seven, back by seven. With takeout. Always with takeout.
"It's part of my job," I reply, which is a small truth masking a bigger secret that I'm a paranoid bastard who spends hours poring over security footage to make sure I know everything that everyone around here is doing. I cannot be too careful.
And, okay, maybe I'm interested in him.
"You hungry?" he asks.
"A little."
"Want to join me?" He lifts the white takeout bag. "I ordered plenty."
I have food in my refrigerator, ready to be cooked, but I was raised to believe it's rude to decline an offer of a meal. "Okay. Let me just feed Mabel and get changed, and then we can come to yours?"
Clayton smiles like I've just made his day. "Sounds good."
"Which one is your boat again? Is it the oversized one that's definitely not overcompensating for anything?"
His smile doesn't falter as he brushes past me. He holds out his index finger, which Mabel latches onto, then pins me with those chocolaty eyes. "Not overcompensating," he breaths against my ear. "Built to scale. It matcheseverything."
