“Thanksssss.” Mia practically dances with glee. “Is Soph your mom?”
“How old do you think I am?” Soph grunts. “Geez, kid.”
Lucy playfully scrunches her nose. “No. My mom’s name is Isabelle, and she’s at home taking care of my big dumb dog while I’m out of town. He’s a bit silly, so he needs as many babysitters as possible.”
Mia throws her head back and laughs.
“Did you know Lucy is not only a real-life ballerina. But she’s a real-life fighter, too?”
Just like that, Mia’s laughter cuts off with a gurgle, and her eyes swing to Soph. “W-what does that mean?”
“Like…” Lucy lifts her hands the way boxers do during a bout, then she gently extends her arm forward in a jab. “Like this. My daddy used to be the world champion.”
Awed, Mia leans closer. “No wayyyyy.”
“Way. My uncles were champs, as well. And technically, I’ve won a couple of belts, too.”
“A ballerinaanda fighter,” Mia breathes. “That’s so cool!”
“She’s pretty cool,” Soph agrees. Then she looks at Fletch. “She’ll be safe with Lucy while we have dinner. Ya know, in case you wanted to eat without little eyes watching every single thing you do. Oh! And Justin?” She turns and searches for him in the crowd. “Did Jen tell you about these new meds she’s been working on? Affectionately known as M&M’s.”
“Really?” Proud as any father could be, he beams for his daughter. “This is a brand-new development?”
“No.” She flattens her lips and shoots a glare my way. “I’m having a little trouble getting through trials, though. My recipients aren’t participating in the spirit with which they should.”
“Here.” Fifi presses a glass of wine to Soph’s belly, forcing her to take it, then a tall glass of beer to Fletch’s. “Take these. Cato just arrived, by the way. And Archer.” She swings desperate eyes to me. “I saw him pulling in.”
“Thank God!” I blow straight past Jen and Justin’s whine-fest about ungrateful, unnamed trial recipients.
LUCY
AKA: BEAN. AKA: ¼ OF THE FEARSOME FOURSOME.
The little girl I now know as Mia Fletcher wanders through Justin’s home with Elle on her left and June on her right. Elle is younger than Mia, and June is older, but as a trio, they’realmostevenly sized.
Not poor Claire, though. She’s still so little, so I swing her onto my hip and follow the other three through a rich man’s beautiful home while everyone else makes their way to the dining room.
I’m being paid a boatload of money to babysit these kids tonight, which means no wine for me, and no Soph-Is-Picking-On-Everyone-Else show. But that’s okay, becauseboatloadsof money are the best kinds, despite the dollars my fighter family already has squirreled away in the bank, and when I’m done for the night, I get to go back to my hotel.
To my man.
For now, he’s providing a little muscle and spending a few hours working with June’s stepdad. After that, he’ll spend a few hours working me. Honestly, that’s my favorite way to spend my time.
The girls drift closer to Justin’s pool, drawn to it by the sunlight creating diamonds on the surface. Elle goes closest, because that’s what she does. She tests boundaries. But Mia hovers just half a foot behind her, while June is our rule follower. Our people pleaser.
“Can you swim?” Mia stops on the edge with a proud smile, stretching her face wide and fisted hands on her hips. “I can mostly swim, because Cato teaches me every single day.”
“Who is Cato?” Elle squints her eyes and leans too damn far forward, all so she can grab a floating leaf from the surface. “Your dad’s name is Fletch, isn’t it?”
“Actually, my dad’s name is Charlie. Our last name is Fletcher, so that means sometimes his friends call him Fletch.”
“I know a Charlie,” June happily announces. “He’s in my class at school.”
My big, brutish nephew.
I wonder how Mia would react if she knew that Charlie is already a champion fighter, too?
“He’s super nice and stuff, but he’s a bit silly sometimes.”
