Page 216 of Vicious Temptation

“How bad is it?” I ask, twirling the curl with my finger.

Remi immediately lifts her phone and snaps a picture before I can stop her.

My jaw drops. “Remi.”

She ignores me and takes another. “For legal reasons, I have to preserve the evidence.”

That sends Zara into hysterics, and she nearly tumbles off the couch. I catch her by the arm before she falls.

“Careful, princesinha.”

Her eyes widen at the sudden scare, but once she realizes she’s okay, she beams up at me. “Thanks, Officer Thiago.”

“Anytime.”

Zara suddenly perks up. “Wait! I want a picture too.”

She hops off the couch and disappears down the hallway.

“What is she doing?” I ask.

Remi shrugs. “With Zara, your guess is as good as mine.”

A few seconds later, she comes running back, a little blue Polaroid camera clutched in both hands.

“I got this for my birthday.” She holds it up proudly. “We need one of all three of us.”

“Absolutely not.” I point to my hair. “Not like this.”

“That’s exactly why we need one,” Remi says.

Zara climbs back onto the couch, wedges herself between us, and hands the camera to Remi. “Come on, Officer Thiago.”

I look at the two of them tucked against me and accept that I never stood a chance. “Fine.”

Remi stretches her arm out, the camera pointed toward us. “Everybody smile.”

Zara throws one arm around my neck and the other around Remi’s as the flash goes off. The little square slides from the bottom of the camera, and Zara snatches it before Remi can.

“Don’t shake it,” Remi tells her.

“I know.”

We watch as the picture slowly develops. My hair looks fucking ridiculous. Zara’s grinning from ear to ear between us, and Remi has her head tilted toward Zara’s, smiling at the camera.

I should hate it, but instead, I can’t stop staring at it.

Zara jumps off, holding the photo to her chest. “I’m keeping this one.”

When I look up, Remi isn’t laughing anymore. She’s watching us with the faintest smile on her lips and a softness in her eyes I’ve only recently begun to notice. Reaching for my hand, she brushes her thumb over my knuckles.

Neither of us says anything. We don’t need to.

I look at Zara clutching the Polaroid to her chest, then back at Remi, and something about this moment gets to me. There’s nothing extraordinary about sitting on a couch with ponytails in my hair while a six-year-old admires her handiwork, but I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

For years, being on my own never bothered me. I had my job, my apartment, and a life I’d built for myself. I never thought anything was missing until Remi came along and began filling spaces I hadn’t realized were empty.

Maybe that’s what this feeling is.