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I crouched low. “Mira, honey, I know it was nice taking your nap here today while I got some work done, but you sleep at my house, remember?”
The storm brewed ominously in her eyes, and when she set her jaw, crossed her arms over her body, and plopped down onto the floor in front of the crib, I knew I’d have to bodily remove her before she’d concede.
“It’s my fault,” Liam said. “I’m too bloody likable.”
If he’devermade a comment I was bound to ignore, it was that one. “Come on, Mirabelle, let’s go back to my place. We’ll have a picnic dinner in the family room.”
“No picnic. I stay here.”
I held her gaze for a few moments longer, then sighed.
Instead of getting into an epic battle of wills with an almost three-year-old, I stood up and walked out of the room, then down the steps. Liam murmured something to Mira that I couldn’t understand, and then he followed behind me.
When he entered the kitchen, I was sitting at the island with my hands speared through my hair. “This is new,” I said.
He grunted.
Then . . . nothing.
Another season of change was near. I could feel it. Right before the bucket filled and those millions of drops of water spilled over the edge.
The problem was, I didn’t know how to logic my way through this problem. Didn’t know the formula to use to make it line up at the end. There were too many variables, too many unknowns.
“I don’t know how to navigate this,” I said quietly. The words hurt coming out, just a little, because I couldn’t help but brace for him to weaponize them against me.
But in true Liam style, he didn’t say a damn word. Lifting my head, I pinned him with a long look. “Nothing? No commentary? You’re usually brimming with helpful suggestions about how I’m doing this wrong.”
“Nothing for me to say, Valentine. She’s obsessed with me and wants to be here more. I told you that kids have shit taste sometimes.”
He leaned up against the counter, and I took a moment to study him. There was a lightning-quick sort of tension in his eyes, there one moment and gone the next.
“What?” he barked.
“I’m trying to figure you out,” I admitted. “It’s not working.”
He snorted. “Nothing to figure out. I’m an open book.”
That had me laughing. Hard. And by the darkening of his face, he didn’t appreciate it.
“Sorry,” I said after my laughter had subsided. “You are anything but, Liam Davies. Though it’s been a decade since we met, I can honestly say that I don’t know you any better now than I did that first day.”
He didn’t like that either and darted his eyes away from mine. “She can stay,” he finally said.
My eyebrows arched.
“If you don’t feel like fighting her.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t mind.”
“Doesn’t it set a bad precedent, though? She can’t just demand to stay here all the time.”
“Fuck if I know,” he said.
I rubbed my face and sighed.
“No page in the binder for this one?” he asked.
Dropping my hands, I narrowed my eyes in his direction.
His lips quirked up like he was fighting a smile.
