Page 48 of Dancing in the Dark

“I would’ve called even if you did mind,” I chuckle. Dropping my hand, I tilt my head to the left and stop only when I feel the pop. Then to the right. Pop. Glancing toward my apartment door, a space I considered our brand-new oasis not so long ago, I sigh at how lonely it feels now. Desolate. It’s where I’ll go to stare at the wall until my baby’s return tomorrow. “It feels like you’re growing up on me way too fast, Moo. Makes me a little sad.”

“Don’t be sad,” she pouts. “I’m s’posed to grow up, remember? And I’ll miss you very much.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” And if I’m not careful, we’ll careen straight past reminding her she’s loved, and into a solid case of parentification and child abuse. It’s not her job to manage my emotions, and it sure as hell isn’t her responsibility to miss out on fun things all because Dad doesn’t want to sit at home. Alone. “Maybe you could send me a text later tonight to let me know you’re having a fun time?” I catch a familiar shadow approaching our building from the outside, so I push off the stairs and open the heavy glass door as Mrs. Mayweather hobbles closer. Stepping aside, I allow her to pass through and drop my chin to say hello, then as she starts onto the stairs, I release the door and head into my apartment. “You don’t have to,” I amend. “And if you forget or fall asleep early, that’s okay, baby. But if you think of it and if it’s not making you miss out on fun stuff, then I’d be happy to get a text letting me know you’re alright.”

“Okay.” Plopping her new torch back onto the counter, she picks up the phone, twists, and slides off the stool. “And I’ll see you in the morning. Will you be there, Daddy? Do you fink you’ll have to work?”

“Uncle Arch and Daddy aren’t on call tonight.” Which is probably why Arch is cool with a kiddie sleepover at his house. “We’ve been working extra extra hard lately, and we’ve solved a bunch of crimes really quickly, so we’re off until shift starts tomorrow. That means I’ll be right here when you get back. Maybe I could walk you to school. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” She moves through the back door and onto the patio. “You remember Jordy, Daddy? From my class?”

“The little boy? He goes to dance, too?”

“Mmhm. I fink he annoys me a lot. So maybe I should put itchy powder in his shirt?”

“What?” I bark out a laugh. “No, baby! No itchy powder.”

“But he’s annoying!” she growls. “And his dad is even worse.”

“His dad?” I narrow my eyes. “What has his dad done to you?”

“He said hello one time.” She passes the pool and stops by Cato. “He shouldn’t have said hello, since we didn’t say hello to him first. Now every time I look at Jordy, I wanna put itchy powder in his eyeballs.”

“Well… that’s a crime.” I draw a long breath and scratch the back of my neck. “And I think you spend way too much time with Cato. He’s a bad influence on you.”

“Nuh uh!” She slaps the phone against Cato’s chest and steals his basketball.

He’s quick, rotating the camera and giving me a front-row seat to her tossing the ball and getting it in. “See, Daddy! Good flefluence!”

“See, Daddy?” Cato’s smug face comes into view. “Good flefluence. It’s all good up here at the Malone house.”

“You’ve got her, right?” My voice takes on a bubbling desperation that stings my throat. “She wakes up and wanders in the night. There are a lot of stairs in that house. A lot of bedrooms. A pool. Guards, and I actually don’t have any clue who the fuck they are or if they have a thing for defenseless little girls.”

“I’ve got her,” he grits out. “I went out last night and slept most of today, so I’m not sleeping tonight anyway. She’ll be with me for every minute she’s here, I’ll walk her to the bathroom when she needs to go, and we have an alarm on the doors and the pool, anyway.”

“But—”

“And you can’t possibly think Mayet would allow any kind of shady motherfucker on these premises if he’s inclined the way your intrusive thoughts already wandered. Felix assigned them, Archer checked them, Mayet would destroy them if they step wrong. Your baby is my baby. You have to know that about me by now.”

I do. Fuck, I know that. But I’ve seen too much, and my brain likes to err toward cruelty for the sake of messing with me.

“If you’re sure.” I blow out an explosive exhale and move toward the fridge. Maybe I can get drunk and text Sera inappropriate shit while she’s at that fancy shindig she’s got on tonight.

Alcohol-fueled unsolicited dick pics are definitely the way to a woman’s heart.

“I told Mia to text me later to let me know she’s having fun, but now I feel bad, because I probably made her feel like she has to coddle me or some shit.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Quick as a rattlesnake, he catches the basketball an inch before it slams into the side of his face. Grinning, he tosses it back again. “I’ll send you a dozen. I’ll coddle you, and she can focus on making a pig of herself with double desserts.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s in your best interests to help her manage her intake, dipshit. If she gets a stomachache, she won’t sleep a wink. If you deliver her back to me on a school morning and she hasn’t slept, I’ll probably shoot you in your fuckin’ face.”

“Mmhm.” He darts forward, the phone jolting as he spins, then he steals the ball from Mia’s little hands and dunks it with a deep grunt rolling along his throat. He hangs from the basket for a beat, while on the other side of the phone, Mia squeals in delight. Dropping back to his feet, Cato’s Malone-green eyes swing back to mine and sparkle with torment. “Your baby is my baby. Don’t fret. Maybe you could call Ms. Lewis and invite her over for dinner.”

I scoff. “You’re gonna be so mad when you realize your scheming was all for nothing.” I tug my fridge open and study the last three of Archer’s forgotten six-pack. Taking one out, I slam the door shut, set the phone down so I can pop the cap off the bottle, then I pick it up again and let the kid see me take a long swallow. Sucks to be him, since he’s not even twenty-one yet. “If you wanted to scheme and trick my daughter into giving me a night off, you probably could’ve checked our schedules first. Sera’s got the Chinese folks in town this week and a black-tie event she’s gotta dress up for.”

“Ah well. There’s always your hand, I guess. If you’re done questioning me on my ability to keep a five-year-old in one piece overnight, then I’m hanging up. I’ve got some tactical changes to make to our dessert menu before said five-year-old notices I deleted about ninety percent of all the shit I’d originally planned to offer her.”

“Good choice.” I trudge around my long counter and move all the way to my living space. Stopping between the couch and the coffee table, I back up and plop down.