Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“That’s good, Vic. That’s really good.” She stood again, and moved to lean against his arm, her familiarity comforting and warm. “Are you sure that guy doesn’t like you?”
“I’m not sure of anything with him. I only met him a week or two ago.”
“And he’s already got you blushing?” She elbowed him companionably. “He’d better like you. Or I’ll be really mad.”
“I’m sure he’ll fear your wrath,” Vic replied, then glanced back as the patio door slid open behind them.
Siorse had dressed herself in record time, from a little wood urchin to a prim little lady in minutes flat, her hair brushed down into red waves and half clipped back, her face washed, her dirty pajamas replaced by her navy blue school uniform cardigan, skirt, socks, and Mary Janes. She clutched the straps of her backpack, and beelined straight for Vic.
“I’m ready,” she announced primly.
“Siorse, you haven’t even had breakfast,” Julie said—and Siorse pointedly ignored her. Vic sighed, offering his hand.
“C’mon, peanut. We’ll go for pancakes, and then I’ll drop you off.”
She slipped her hand into his, looking up at him. “Will you come to class with me today?”
“I wish I could. But I’ll stay a little.”
“Siorse,” Julie tried again.
Siorse turned her little nose up, pulled her hand from Vic’s, and marched toward the side of the house without saying a word.
Julie turned her head to watch her until she disappeared around the brick, her face falling. Vic arched a brow, then shook his head and reached over to squeeze Julie’s shoulder.
“Let her be mad at you a little,” he said. “She’ll forget by the time she comes home. I’ll pick her up after school, too.”
“You can leave work that early?”
“No,” he said. “But it turns out it’s pretty fun to piss off those grouchy old tossers on the Board. They’ll manage without me for one afternoon.”
She stole another hug, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Vic.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.” He kissed the top of her head, then pulled away to catch up with Siorse, waving over his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything else.”
l
BUT AS HE STOOD OUTSIDE Siorse’s school, leaning against the Benz and watching her as she disappeared into the gaggle of children with one last enthusiastic wave over her shoulder with syrup-sticky fingers, he couldn’t help frowning, tapping his knuckles against his chin.
Sometimes I wish you really could be her father.
It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought of, but now the idea wouldn’t leave. He’d never pictured himself as someone settled down with a spouse and children, yet it lingered on his mind all day. Especially when he returned home to change for work, and found Amani gone—just the throw folded neatly on the couch, and a little note on a ripped-off scrap of paper.
Thanks for breakfast, sweet boy.
He smiled slightly, but it didn’t ease the melancholy ache.
Sometimes, his Master was a brat.
But still a brooding cloud hung over him as he dragged through the day at work, dealing with the monotony of meeting after meeting and fire after fire and so many conversations with legal he’d half forgotten English in favor of jargon by the time it was over. And he was still distracted when he walked out on a conference call that afternoon to pick Siorse up from school, and it took her tugging on his jacket as he was driving to get him to realize she was asking him something. He blinked, briefly glancing from the road.
“Sorry, Peanut. Long day. What was that?”
“I said,” she drawled out with exaggerated syllables, “I’m going to be in a play soon. I got picked today. I’m going to be the squirrel princess.” She proclaimed it proudly, lifting her chin. “Will you come see? Please?”
He smiled, and momentarily slipped a hand over to rest it on top of her adorable little head. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Squirrel Princess Aster.”
“Squirrel Princess Siorse,” she corrected, and he laughed.
“You’re absolutely right, your Majesty.”
l
AMANI WASN’T SURE WHAT HE’D find, when the front desk staff buzzed him up to Vic’s apartment that night. Not after the way Vic had left this morning, and not after the knowing looks that had trailed after Amani when he’d left this morning. Almost smug. Like they knew everything there was to know, just because they saw him leaving the morning after in the same clothing he’d worn the night before.
Another reason he couldn’t stand places like this.
People always had their ideas whispered behind their hands, and he had too much pride to lower himself to challenge them.
But he endured the saccharine smiles, the falsely bright Mr. Eee-dree-see, running the gauntlet until the elevator took him upstairs to the promise of solace and at least…at least…
What?
Was he actually looking forward to being with Vic?
Tell yourself the truth. You’re worried about him.
And he thought he might have reason to be worried, when he stepped off the elevator and into the darkened apartment. Vic sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped before his mouth, his brow set in a brooding line as he stared darkly at nothing. He hadn’t even changed into his usual casual jeans, just throwing his suit coat over the sofa and rolling the sleeves of his button-down to his forearms. Amani paused just past the threshold, slipping out of his coat and folding it over his arm as he bent to set his cello case down.