Page 18 of Cash

“What?”

“Franny let me have two snickerdoodles after dinner.”

Flora only allowed what she called treats three times a week. I called cookies a necessity. I was totally going to fail at this nutrition shit.

“Wow. That’s a big treat.”

Cara nodded fiercely—no, not fierce—exuberant. She was a child. A happy, lively, cheerful little girl who somehow had managed to keep all her innocence despite losing her parents.

“Franny said I was extra good tonight at dinner. I finished all my stew.” Cara paused to scrunch her nose. “Even the carrots.”

Stew.

Flora made healthy meals. When Cara’s diet was left to me, it’d likely pop some chicken nuggets into the microwave. I didn’t know how to prepare vegetables, and stew was well beyond my culinary skills.

What the hell had Michael and Donna been thinking?

Me.

I was their best option?

When they’d asked me to be Cara’s Godmother, I thought it was some honorary title that gave me permission to spoil the sweet girl rotten. No one told me, what it really meant would be I would be responsible for not screwing her up after her parents got themselves killed.

Fuck.

“Why is your face pinchy, Lolo?”

I smoothed my features and smiled. “I just wish I was there to eat Franny’s stew with you.” Lie. I didn’t like stew. “And I miss you.” Not a lie. I loved Cara as much as my cold, dead black heart would allow me to. “And I can’t wait to get home.” Not a lie, but maybe a stretch of the truth. I wanted to get back to her. I needed to, both for her and Flora. But the reality of that scared the holy hell out of me.

As soon as I got back and Cara was settled, Flora would be leaving us. She wanted to retire. She had children and grandchildren of her own and wanted to spend time with them. I’d only have a few weeks with her so she could teach me how to be a mom.

Suddenly my stomach cramped and I felt woozy.

Guardian.

Cara was my charge. Not my daughter.

Her whole face lit up, making her dark eyes dance. Dark eyes she’d inherited from her father. The rest of her was Donna.

“You’re coming home?” Cara chirped.

Shit.

“Almost,” I told her. “Five more days.”

That was a decision I’d made last night. I was giving Zane five more days, then I was going home even if the job wasn’t complete. Not that he needed my help. But even if he did, I was done. Flora had warned me never to make a promise I couldn’t keep and never but never mention something if I wasn’t ready to share fully. She didn’t have to explain the ramifications of broken promises to a child—I knew those all too well.

“Yippy!” Cara did a wiggly dance and spun in a circle.

How was it possible for her to be so happy after all she’d lost. And why in the hell would she wiggle around and smile at the news I’d be coming home.

Maybe because we hadn’t told her that Flora was leaving and she’d be stuck with me. Cara was a social butterfly—the more around for her to entertain the happier she seemed to be.

“Now, tell me all about your day and don’t leave anything out.”

Cara happily blathered on about her day; the puzzles she’d done, the pages colored in her new coloring book I’d given her before I left, and the letters she and Flora had practiced.

Letters. Numbers. Colors. Good Lord, school would be next and I’d have to figure out drop off and pick up and supplies and… fuck, there’d be parents and teachers to deal with.