“How do we do it? Go from yellin’ at each other to being kinda normal like this?”
I shrug. “Because something like this is about Mila, but when we’re alone and it’s just us, it’s about us. When it’s about Mila we work on instinct, but when it’s about us we work on emotion.”
“Good . . . Because we’re gonna need to work a lot on instinct,” she says softly. “Come and stay with us until we work out how to handle this.”
I stop. “Stay with you?”
She nods, looking at me from under her eyelashes. “Ste’s room is empty. You can stay there and spend time with Mila, and it’ll be safe. They have no idea who I am, right?”
“There were no pictures with the article, so I guess not.”
“Then my house is safe. It only has to be for a few days. I won’t even have to be there all the time.”
“Are you sure?”
“You got any better ideas?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then yes, I’m sure.” She lowers my hands from her face and steps back. “Go and pack some stuff and, uh, maybe put on a shirt, then when Mila wakes up we’ll go back.”
I smirk. “Maybe put on a shirt?”
She holds up her hands. “I don’t want to seem like I’m forcing you or anythin’, just that you should think about it.”
“Depends. You gonna cry on my abs again?”
“No, but I ain’t lickin’ ’em either.”
I laugh and mirror her, holding my own hands up. “Okay, okay. I’ll cover up the abs.” I grin at her.
Sofie looks at me, her eyes dancing, happier than I’ve seen her since she got back. Conversations like that make me remember why I fell for her in the first place. We bounce off each other easily, never giving in. Even now, when her tears are still kind of wet on my stomach, it seems like no time has passed.
“You sure about that licking thing? Because your eyes are kind of telling a different story.”
“Well, that escalated quickly,” Leila says, shoving the door open. “Your daughter is awake and screaming for you,” she tells Sofie.
“You want me to get her?” I offer.
Sofie hesitates, but nods. “If you want.”
The urge to touch her tingles my fingers, and I reach out to tuck some hair behind her ear.
“You putting a shirt on yet?” Jenna yells as I walk past.
“Shit, what is it with you people and shirts today?” I call back, taking the stairs two at a time.
Mila’s crying is coming from my room, and she quiets the second I open the door. “Dadda!” she wails, reaching for me.
I flop onto the bed next to her and curl her into me. I rock her back and forth until she calms and her sobs become tiny sniffs. “Better, baby girl?”
She nods her little head. “Yeah.”
“Good.” I roar and lift her as I roll onto my back. She squeals and giggles as I hold her in the air above me. “What do you think about Daddy coming to stay at your house for a few days? Yeah?”
“Dadda home?” she asks, her eyes brightening.
“Yeah, Dadda home!” I throw her and catch her.
She giggles. “Yeah, Dadda home!”
“Come on, then. Get down and let me pack.” I give her a light shake to put her down. “Come on, get down. No. Mila! Down!” I shake her again lightly, all to her amusement, and then drop her onto my chest. “You’re supposed to be getting down!”
She kicks her legs and I grab them. Just a little too close to the balls there, kid.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” I wrap my arms around her and roll to the side. Her laughter rings out again, and I roll to the other side. “Come on, let go, let go!”
I do it until I’m laughing and my stomach kills from it. I roll again, actually letting her go this time, and put my finger over her mouth. “Shhh, before your mama hears and sasses me for not packing!”
“She already knows.” Sofie laughs quietly from the door.
I sit up without wiping the stupid grin off my face. “She distracted me.”
“Yeah, she’s good at that.” Her smile falters a little, and she holds her hand out. “Come on, Mila. Let Daddy get his things.”
Mila pouts. “Mamaaaaaa!”
“Mila,” Sofie says sternly. “Come on, please.”
“She can stay,” I offer. “As long as she promises to let me go!” I grab her and tickle her sides and she shrieks.
“Conner,” Sofie scolds me.
I let Mila go and stand up. “Okay, okay. Mila, go to Mama. I’ll be downstairs in a minute, okay?”
Mila huffs and I put her on the floor. She toddles over to Sofie, who picks her up and whispers, “I think Pops stole some cookies for you.”
Mila shudders in delight, squeaking, and I watch them until they disappear down the stairs. My stomach still aches from the laughter, and I realize how right Sofie is.
Mila truly is a great distraction. For a few minutes there, I could forget the shitstorm that’s brewing outside and just be a dad. Her dad.
It doesn’t escape me that being her dad is the reason for the media shitstorm. I know, though, that I’d take this sticky situation over not being her dad any day.
You don’t know how kids can impact you. I sure as hell didn’t know a few days ago that she’d make this much of an imprint on me. I didn’t know that I’d come to adore her so quickly. I didn’t know that I’d come to need her so fast.
My phone buzzes and I grab it from the nightstand.
Move your lazy butt!
Sofie. I grin.
Make me, I text back.
You’re sleeping in my house for a few days, she responds. Don’t tempt me. Move.
I throw my phone down on the bed, get up, and grab a bag from the closet. Her plan makes sense—hide in a place they don’t know about.
And hope no one in town puts two and two together.
“What is that?” I ask as Ajax, one of Conner’s security guys, heaves a huge box through the house and into the yard.
“Conner! What is it?”
Another guy comes through with two huge bags of sand.
My eyes widen, and I spin to him. “You bought her a sandbox?”
He shrugs. “I promised her a day on the sand, didn’t I? Gotta make it happen somehow.”
“You’re crazy, you know that? A sandbox?”
“You wanna ask me a third time to make sure it’s really, really a sandbox?”