Page 71 of Marcus

“Hmm?”

She squeezed the pillow, new tears starting to form. And God … that more than anything else killed him a little bit. He didn’t want to see those tears. This sweet little girl who was always so happy, and loved to make everyone else smile, should never be sad.

“Don’t cry, bambina,” he murmured, coming to kneel in front of her in the office doorway. “It’s not a big deal, just a little rip. I’ll fix it, okay?”

“I sleep with it.”

Oh.

Well, some kids did that, he knew. They found something that they really got attached to, and that was that. For some, it could be a pillow or a bear. Maybe a dolly, or whatever.

“I can bring it into you after, if you want?” he offered.

Tiffany managed a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. It’ll just take me a bit to get the pillow apart, so I can sew it from the inside where you won’t see the seam of the tear. That’s all, so you might have to fall asleep without it, but I give you my word you’ll wake up with it. How does that sound?”

It took the girl a minute, but eventually, she nodded. Then, with shaking hands, she handed the pillow over to him. The soft cotton of the covering felt warm to the touch, a true testament to how close and tight she’d been holding it.

Marcus looked over the pillow, and the band logo on the front. “Where did you get this from, anyway?”

“My Uncle John.” Tiffany brightened when he met her gaze, waiting for her to explain more. “He gave it to Ma when I was a baby—it’s my daddy’s shirt. Ma put pictures in my room, but I like his pillow shirt the best. I get to hug him and say goodnight. He comes with me everywhere I go.”

Well …

That explained so much.

Jesus Christ.

He couldn’t imagine the man he might have become without the influence of his father. He couldn’t stand to think about the pain that would have caused his mother to lose her husband with a young child in her arms.

“I’m sorry you lost your daddy,” Marcus murmured.

“Me, too.” She glanced up from the pillow in his hands, meeting his gaze with wide eyes that spoke of knowing and truth when she said, “My daddy would like you, Marcus.”

“You think?”

Tiffany nodded. “You make Ma smile. She said he loved to make her smile.”

“Huh.”

How did one respond to that?

“Take good care of my pillow, please.”

He’d not seen the pillow before now. It must have been something Cella kept just between her and her daughter, so he didn’t take offense. However, it’s significance wasn’t exactly lost on him, and all he wanted to do was make it better.

Marcus cleared his throat, refusing to acknowledge the thickness building there when he said, “I will be extra careful with it since it’s so important to you. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

Tiffany smiled again.

And it made everything better.

“What are you doing?”

Marcus didn’t bother to look up from his current task at Cella’s question. He’d known the very second she came to stand in the doorway. It wasn’t as though she tried to be quiet, but he suspected she hadn’t expected to see him sitting there fixing the item in his hands. And considering the significance of the pillow covering, well, he didn’t blame her for needing a moment before she spoke.

Sitting comfortably on the leather chair that faced his desk, he pulled the needle through the delicate cotton fabric. “Fixing Tiffany’s pillow—said it caught on the zipper of your luggage when she tried to pull it out. She was quite upset, and I offered to fix it for her.”