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5
ROSE
* * *
Where the hell is he? I’ve searched this entire house, all bazillion rooms, walked the gardens, and found no sight nor sound of my husband. In a past life, I would have been out of my mind. Now? Now, there are no enemies to kill. No mysteries to solve. So, again, where the hell is he?
“Did you scare him away?” I whisper, nuzzling down into Maggie’s cheek, getting a hit of her magnificent baby scent. I’ll never get enough of it. The gym is the last room I search, because, poor love, why would he be in the gym? He’s been too beat to work out since our daughter was born a month ago. I find it empty and back out, but a noise makes me still, the door ajar. On a frown, I push my way back in and scan the space. “Oh my God,” I breathe when I see a bare foot poking out at the end of a weights bench. I walk over, rocking Maggie when she whimpers, and peek over the bench. I can’t help my smile. He’s flat on his back, arms and legs splayed, mouth hanging open. My deadly killer, who looks fit for nothing. It’s almost a shame to wake him. Almost.
I move around the bench and toe him with my Ugg slipper. “Time to wake up, Daddy.”
Danny murmurs, hums, exhales, flapping a hand at thin air, like he’s searching for the snooze button on an alarm clock. “Two minutes.”
“No, not two minutes.” I need a shower, my hair is in desperate need of a wash, and I need . . . some pruning. I haven’t waxed in places a woman should wax regularly for weeks. “Come on, Danny,” I breathe, crouching, poking him. “I have to shower.” There are a dozen people in this house who would fly to my aid and watch Maggie. But none of them are her father, and it’s been nice having him at my beck and call recently.
I look down at Maggie. She’s wide awake, her blue eyes showing all the signs of being as piercing as her father’s. She has his bone structure too. “Just typical that I went through the agony of birth and you come out looking like your daddy.” Although, I can’t lie, I’m pretty sure Danny was in immeasurable pain at points during Maggie’s birth too. I apologized each time I scratched him, grabbed him, smacked him.
I negotiate Maggie in my arms, making sure she’s bundled up nicely, and place her on Danny’s scarred chest. Cuts. Bullet holes. How will we ever explain them to her as she’s growing up? Where she’s come from.
I tentatively let her go and watch as her weight there slowly brings my husband back to life. His hand instinctively holds her in place as he breathes in, sending her up a little before he exhales and she sinks into his chest. He opens one eye. Looks down at her. My wonder seeing him look at her like this will never fade. She is literally life to him. He kisses the top of her head and lifts her a little higher, enjoying what I was enjoying moments ago. Her smell.
“It’s the robber of sleep,” he murmurs, closing his eyes again. “The crusher of my sex life.”
I laugh, but on the inside, I grimace. The thought of penetration makes me shudder. And my boobs feel like they could explode for ninety percent of the day, so there’s no fun to be had there, either. Poor guy.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask.
He doesn’t open his eyes. “I came to work out, fell, and hit my head.”
I roll my eyes and stand. “Come on, I need to go out.” I turn and head for the door.
“What? Go out? Where?”
I smile to myself, not looking back. He’s not been left alone with her yet. And he’s not being left alone now. The house is full, and Esther is here. He has an army of helpers on hand. “I’m going to the spa to see how the reno is coming along, and then I’ll pick Daniel up from school.” I swing the door open and pass through.
“Rose!” Danny yells.
I peek over my shoulder as I pace down the corridor, seeing him scrambling to his feet, Maggie safe in the crook of his muscly arm. Panic. It’s a rare expression on my husband. He’s capable. Confident. What the hell is he stressing about? I head to the kitchen with Danny in pursuit and go to the fridge. “Morning,” I sing to Esther’s ass as I pass her bending over the dishwasher.
“Morning,” she replies, not looking up. “What kind of night did you have?”
“Long.” God help me, every hour she woke up and wanted feeding. And now she will sleep all day. I swear, she’s nocturnal. I open the fridge and grab the OJ, drinking straight from the carton.
Esther, smiling, pops up from the dishwasher and flaps her arms, exasperated.
“What?”
“Why does everyone around here insist on slurping from the carton?” She searches my arms. She doesn’t get a chance to ask. Danny falls into the kitchen, Maggie held to his chest with one spade of a hand. It is the most incredible sight. My tall, built, scarred, murdering, mafia boss husband handling something so delicate. His sex appeal has tripled, which means my husband is one scorching-hot male. Even if he looks like he could fall asleep standing. I wince, still feeling the tenderness between my legs. I feel like my insides could fall out at any moment. So sexy.
“Here she is,” Esther coos, forgetting everything and going to Danny. God damn it. “Do you want me to take her for a bath?”
“No,” I pipe up quickly, going to the island as Esther swings around, a little injured and slightly indignant. I tilt my head, feeling Danny’s laser stare on me. “Maggie needs some daddy time.”
“Oh, right, yes, of course.” Esther nods, understanding. “Daddy time.”
“I have to go to work,” Danny grates.
“Work? But everyone is dead, darling.” I smile sweetly. “So there is no work to do.” I go back to the fridge, opening the door and returning the OJ before taking a bottle of breast milk out. I turn and present it to Danny. His face. His scar is glowing. It’s not glowed for a while. I’ve missed it. “Freshly pumped.”
