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He took a bite of bacon and shook his head. “Nope, too late. Don’t try asking for permission now.”
She stroked the hair above his ears.
“Gosh, Sir. I guess you’re just going to have to punish me for my insolence.”
He looked side-eyed at her, a small smile creeping up the corner of his mouth. Still, he tried to sound stern when he said, “Oh, don’t worry, little bee. I will.”
She looked forward to it.
****
Liam
As he stood next to Utah handing out fucking candy that night, giving the obligatory response of, “Adorable,” when she’d ask, “Isn’t she, Liam?” after gushing about how cute the little fairy, witch, or Disney princess was on their front porch.
Her face glowed every time she opened the door, and it quickly became apparent to him how important having kids was to her.
Liam knew he was going to have to let her go once her house arrest ended. He loved her too much to deprive her of being a mom.
He almost wished he didn’t. It would be much better for his heart.
After the last piece of candy was handed out, she closed the door and shut the porchlight out.
“You’re going to be an amazing mom someday,” he observed quietly.
She beamed up at him. “Thanks. I think you’d be a great dad.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m definitely not cut out for fatherhood. Tonight confirmed that.”
“It’s different if they’re your own.”
“I have no desire to find out. I’m too old for that shit. Spending my Saturday night traipsing through the neighborhood so my kid can beg for food.”
Her face fell, but she attempted to recover by putting on a brave smile. It almost would have been believable if he hadn’t noticed her bottom lip quiver.
“You mean like you do with Phoebe every morning?”
“That’s different.”
“It’s too bad that you feel that way. I think you’d have a lot to offer a child.”
Her observation made him pause. Did he have anything to offer a kid?
Chapter Fifty-Two
Utah
On Halloween—the actual day, she decided to run a check to see if she could hack the hospital.
She could.
The problem was she’d already closed the backdoor she’d used to get into the system.
“This can’t be right,” she mumbled out loud as she rifled through her notes. “I already fixed this; I know I did.”
She finally found what she’d been looking for—her handwritten notes she’d referenced when she wrote her weekly report to Liam three weeks ago.
Had she made a mistake and not actually corrected the problem?
