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“Sure. I can do it sometime if your dad says it’s okay. Not tonight though, because the polish takes a while to dry. And if you touch something while it’s wet it gets all smudged and you have to start over.”
Delilah nodded, looking serious.
“Why don’t you live with us?” she asked.
Cassie blinked at the sudden change in conversation. “What do you mean?” she said, partly to give herself time, but also because she wanted to know where the question was coming from.
“My friend Zoe’s mom has a boyfriend. He lives with them.”
“Oh, do you mean why am I your daddy’s girlfriend but I have a separate house?”
“Yes.” Delilah nodded. “Why don’t you live here?”
“Bath’s ready.” Presley walked into the living room, his lips curling into a smile when he saw the two of them so close.
“Daddy, why doesn’t Cassie live with us?”
He blinked at the sudden question.
“Her friend Zoe’s mom’s boyfriend lives with them,” Cassie told him, trying to get him up to date.
“Oh, right.” Pres swallowed. “Let’s go,” he said to Delilah.
“But what about Cassie? Can’t she come with and give me a bath, too?” Delilah asked.
“You give yourself the bath,” Pres reminded her. “I just stay to make sure you don’t flood the whole bathroom.”
“I don’t do that.” Delilah frowned.
“Not since I learned not to fill the damn thing to the top,” he told her. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned.”
“But I want Cassie to do it.”
Pres pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He was on edge, she could tell that much. He’d been that way all week.
“I’ll come up once you’re clean,” she promised. “I’m reading you a story, remember?”
Delilah’s lip pushed out into a pout. “But I want you to bath me.”
“Get upstairs,” Pres told her, his voice low. “Now.”
Delilah sniffed, her eyes shining. “No.”
Cassie shifted on the sofa, feeling sorry for Pres. Feeling sorry for Delilah, too. She should have refused to come over. They were all exhausted.
“I’m not going to argue with you. If you don’t go up now, Cassie won’t be reading you a story.” His jaw was tight. He wouldn’t look her way.
“But Daddy…”
“Get. Up. Stairs.”
A tear ran down Delilah’s cheek. “You’re mean. I hate you. I wish my mommy was here.”
Presley’s eyes caught Cassie’s. She could see the emotion in them, but she felt powerless to help. She lifted a brow, in an attempt to ask if she could do something.
He shook his head imperceptibly, swallowing hard.
“Your mom isn’t here, and I’m sorry about that,” he said to his daughter. “But you need to get in the bath. Otherwise you’ll be going straight to bed. Your choice.”
