Page 31 of Pucking Daddy

But inside the car, with both hands locked on the steering wheel and the afternoon light cutting across the dashboard, it feels like the first real pocket of stillness I’ve had all day.

I stop at a light and close my eyes for one second.

And there she is again.

Zara in the bar, eyes bright over the rim of her drink.

Zara in the hallway, breath catching when I touched her.

Zara in my kitchen, furious and beautiful and so unimpressed by my attitude it should’ve been insulting.

Zara in my house.

That’s the part that keeps snagging.

Not the sex. Not the memory of it, even if that memory is way too easy to access.

The house.

Lily.

The way those two things are now connected.

I scrub both hands over my face.

This woman is driving me insane.

***

The second I step into the duplex penthouse, the whole shape of the day shifts.

“Daddy!” Lily’s voice comes flying at me before I even see her.

Then she’s there, running full speed down the hallway with all the wild energy of a six-year-old who has absolutely no concern for personal safety or braking distance.

I barely get my bag off my shoulder before she throws herself at me.

I catch her automatically, lifting her against my chest in one smooth motion.

“Hey, bug,” I say, and something in me eases without permission.

Her arms lock around my neck. “You’re home early.”

“Looks that way.”

She smells like shampoo and outside air and whatever snack she had after school. Her cheek is warm where it presses against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her hair and hold her a little tighter.

This. This is the reset.

No matter what kind of day I’ve had, what fire I’ve been putting out, what pressure is building somewhere in the back of my skull, Lily in my arms has a way of cutting straight through it.

I keep her perched on my hip as I move farther into the apartment.

Lily pulls back enough to look at me. “Guess what?”

“That depends,” I say. “Is it about dragons?”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “How did you know?”