Page 84 of Married to the Devil

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I know you can’t do anything about it, but I was thinking—“ She sits down on the chair not covered by Theodora’s papers. “Maybe we could talk to her. I mean, together.”

I consider the idea for a moment before lightly pushing the drawing aside. I sip the tea and watch my wife, sitting back against my chair.

“What would we say?”

“I don’t know,” June admits, rubbing her hands together nervously. “But you and Hattie have a bond now. It’s pretty obvious.”

A warm, pleasant satisfaction settles in my chest. “I like to think that’s true.”

“It really is, and trust me, Hattie doesn’t take to adults like she did with you. It’s special.”

I try not to let her see how good that makes me feel. “She’s a special kid.”

“But she’s struggling. I think this is confusing for her, you know what I mean?”

“What would you have me do?” I spread my hands and lean toward her. “You do say you hate me, after all.”

Her cheeks turn crimson. It’s sexy and adorable the way she blushes so deeply. “I mean, maybe I don’t… hate you…”

“My word. Are you admitting your undying love for me right now?”

“No!” She glares at me. “Don’t make this difficult.”

I push myself to my feet. God, this has been a painful day, and I could use a distraction. “Go on, tell me more.”

“Rafe…” She trails off as I come around the desk. I sit on the edge facing her, one foot touching the floor still. Her eyes drift to my crotch, my thighs, to my shirt tugged tight across my chest. She clears her throat. “What are you doing?”

“I felt too formal behind that desk. A little too restricted. What were you saying about Hattie?”

“Oh, uh… Hattie…” She taps a finger against her lip. “Right, I was thinking we could say something to her together. Show a united front.”

“What would we say?”

“I don’t know. How you’re her father… I’m her mother…”

Her words die as I drop off the desk and kneel down in front of her. “Yes, go on.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get you to tell me this plan of yours.”

“You’re kneeling in front of me.”

“Hadn’t noticed.” I put my hands on her thighs. “Go ahead. Keep talking.”

Her mouth falls open, her face bright red. “I’m trying to say, we can tell her we don’t hate each other. That we both love her and want to take care of her and… and…” Her breath hitches as I lightly press her knees apart. “And what are you doing now?!”

“Nothing.” I lean forward, hands moving up her thighs to her hips. I tug her closer, my face pressed to her belly. “Nothing at all.”

“Rafe…” Her fingers glide through my hair. I think she’s going to push me away, but she doesn’t.

“You were saying you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“But you used to.”