Page 166 of Unruly

She sniffled and hiccupped on little sobs.

Cross simply … waited her out.

“Daddy?” Cece asked, all three-years-old and hesitant as hell. “Daddy?”

He bent down to one knee, and waved his hands toward his daughter. “Come here, mia topina.”

It was a terrible nickname for her. Cross still used it even when Catherine pointed it out over and over again that nothing about Cece was quiet like a little mouse.

Cece pushed to her feet with a sob, and then flung herself down the hall. Cross caught her easily enough, and then picked her right up off the floor. All her tiny arms and legs wrapped around him while he held her close. Catherine had a feeling that Cece wasn’t going to let go of her father for a while.

Cross looked to Catherine in explanation. “What was this fit about?”

“She overheard a phone call,” Catherine said, coming closer. “She wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain you were safe and on your way home. She just heard me talking about you being gone, and I said something about not knowing when you were going to get back in. She just went with it. Here we are.”

“Did she sleep at all last night?”

Catherine shook her head. “Not a wink.”

Me, either.

She didn’t add that bit out loud.

It was only six in the morning. Catherine was seriously hoping that Cross could get Cece to sleep now that he was finally back home. She needed it, badly.

Catherine rubbed a hand up Cece’s trembling back while her other reached out to stroke Cross’s cheek. Her annoyance with him over everything wasn’t entirely gone, but her fear still simmered high enough for her to ignore it at the moment.

Cross seemed to read her mind.

He always did.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

Catherine nodded. “Later, Cross. We’ll deal with it later.”

Cece’s arms tightened impossibly hard around Cross’s neck. Catherine wondered how he was even breathing like that.

“Loves my daddy, Daddy.”

God.

“Daddy loves you, Cece. Daddy will always, always love you.”

Cross stepped into the entryway of the kitchen just as Catherine’s mother finally picked up. She turned her back to her husband for the moment to focus on Catrina.

“Ciao.”

“Ma,” Catherine said, “I just wanted to let you and Daddy know that everything is good here.”

Catrina let out a quiet sigh. “He’s home, then?”

“Safe and sound.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of hours. We’ve been busy with Cece.”

Or rather, Cross was busy with Cece. Their daughter wouldn’t let her father out of her sight. She fought her very obvious exhaustion with every ounce of effort she could put forth. She probably thought that if she closed her eyes, Cross was going to disappear on her again.