Not even her.
That was where Sally had found her: counting meager tips and trying to fold bills with the two fingers Jason had broken before he, just like all the others, had left. She’d been thinking she was done with love. Done with life. She’d had nothing but bad luck with either, and her despair was reaching a critical point. She’d been living a child’s dream, thinking life and love could ever be good. Then she’d had to grow up.
Tony’s idle thoughts had made it clear he was ashamed he’d lost his home and his business, and had been forced to rent this apartment. He’d never know how lucky he was. How, for Rebecca, even this small apartment was like a palace. The building was clean, dry, and well-maintained. The rent was more than she’d have made in three months, short of whoring herself for cash—and she hadn’t sunk that low yet. Not even after dropping out of school, and losing every hope she’d ever had for a real life, a real career.
Sally had pulled her out of a wasteland of leaking roofs, prostitutes, pimps, and drug addicts. Sally had given her something better. Rebecca might never have the happy family life others fell into so easily. The life others took for granted. The loving husband, the pregnant belly…those would never be hers.
But as long as she didn’t have to return to the filth, she was fine with that.
Rebecca capped the nail polish and pressed the pad of her finger to Miranda’s pink big toenail. Her fingertip came away dry. She looked up into Miranda’s adoring eyes, and suppressed a flinch.
Not my girl. Not my family.
“All dry,” she said, and ruffled Miranda’s curls with a smile.
Miranda wiggled her feet and giggled. “Pretty! Like a fairy.”
“You’re very pretty. Just like Tinkerring.”
“Tinker-bell,” Miranda said, firmly and precisely. “Not Tinker-ring.” She pointed to her lips and pronounced it very slowly. “Tinker-bell. Rebecca try?”
Rebecca fought back a laugh, but couldn’t stop grinning. “Tinkerbell.”
“Good!” The little girl beamed at her.
“Oh, darling.” Rebecca gathered Miranda into her arms and squeezed her tight. Miranda’s little arms wound around her neck, and the girl rested her chin to Rebecca’s shoulder.
“Rebecca?” she asked softly.
“Hm?”
“Are you my mommy?”
Rebecca drew back and stared at the girl, her heart shuddering painfully. Miranda searched her face with wide eyes. This poor child had no idea who her real mother was? Oh, God. She didn’t know. She didn’t know her mother had cast her aside like yesterday’s garbage. Tony had protected her from that much, and did his best to fill the voids in her sheltered life. But Miranda longed for a mother.
Rebecca knew the feeling all too well.
She swallowed hard. “No, sweetie. I’m not your mommy.” She hugged Miranda close and pressed her lips into her hair. She was supposed to be keeping her distance, but she could feel Miranda’s need. Her own need. Neither could be ignored. “I’m just your daddy’s friend.”
“Will you stay?”
Tears blurred Rebecca’s vision. She shook her head. “No, honey. I can’t. I’m only here for a little while. I’m sorry.”
“I like you.” Miranda hid her face against Rebecca’s chest. Her soft sniffle nearly broke Rebecca’s heart. “Even if you’re a broken fairy.”
Rebecca closed her eyes and prayed for strength. There was no answer.
I’m not a broken fairy. I’m a broken angel.
She had to try several times before she could speak, and when she managed, her voice broke. “I like you too, kiddo.”
Miranda curled her little fingers in a handful of Rebecca’s hair. “Rebecca?” she asked again.
Rebecca steeled herself. Please, God, let it not be another question that would rip her soul out and leave her bleeding. It was too bad she could only hear her assigned subject’s thoughts. A peek inside Miranda’s head might help her brace herself. “Yes?”
“When will Daddy be home?”
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Rebecca glanced at the clock. Eleven. More than the clock, though, she could feel that sense of Tony intruding on her thoughts, creeping in with a growing awareness. “Right about…”
As if by magic, a key clicked in the lock, and the door swung open.
“…now.” She grinned.
Tony stepped into the room, devilishly handsome in his suit and tie. “Hey, beautiful.” He threw his keys on the table, sank to one knee, and held open his arms.
“Daddy’s home!” Miranda cried, and flung herself from the couch straight into Tony’s arms. He fell back, holding her tight.
“Oof! Careful there, girl. You’re getting too strong for your old man.”
Miranda burst into peals of silvery laughter. “You’re so silly, Daddy. Look at my pretty feet!”
She splayed her tiny toes for inspection. He studied them with intent, somber focus and, gently clasping her foot, turned it from side to side.
“Beautiful,” he said with a firm nod, then glanced at Rebecca. He quirked a brow. “I see Rebecca got herself prettied up, too.”
Rebecca lowered her eyes, but she couldn’t escape his thoughts. Couldn’t escape the warm flush that went through him, and flowed through her like a current. He loved this. Loved seeing her this way, covered in nail polish and completely disheveled, all because she’d let his daughter make a complete mess of her.
Don’t. Don’t make me want this. Don’t make me realize how much I’m enjoying this.
“I did it,” Miranda said with a prideful jut of her chin. “Show Daddy, Becca!”
Rebecca extended her hands for Tony. “And she did a lovely job.”
“So she did. In fact…” Tony tickled Miranda, making her squeal. “How did you manage to make Rebecca look even prettier? I didn’t think that was possible.”
In his thoughts: when he first saw her by the truck, the sun shining on her hair. Then in the kitchen, alight with the fury of her temper. Silently, Rebecca begged him to stop; it was painfully uncomfortable to see herself as someone else did, though she supposed she’d have to get used to it. Telepathy came with the divine mandate.
But she wasn’t the woman Tony saw. And he shouldn’t be thinking about her that way.
She glanced up at Tony and found those vivid green eyes on her, melting through her. As if he knew what she was thinking, and wanted so much to prove her wrong.