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Fear tumbles through me as I throw the blankets aside and bolt across the hall, barging into her room.
Her very empty room.
The sharp clatter of pots and pans echoes from the kitchen. I sprint down the hallway, grip the railing, and practically jump down the flight of stairs, heading straight into the kitchen and skidding across the Brazilian rosewood flooring just in time to see…
“Look at the mess you’ve made, sweet girl.”
Charlotte stands at the island, hands planted on her hips, a smile tugging at her lips as she looks down at Clara in her high chair, who is currently wearing yogurt all over her face and sporting blue fingers, most likely from the blueberries she probably devoured.
Clara giggles, smiling and clapping triumphantly, sending little white splatters across the front of her blue dress. Her short brown hair has been gathered into two tiny pigtails, each tied with a yellow bow.
Even covered in yogurt, she’s the cutest damn kid I’ve ever seen.
Charlotte’s long blonde strands fall over her shoulders as she laughs softly and wets a dishcloth beneath the faucet before wringing it out. The clothes my team brought over last night fit her perfectly. Soft black leggings hug her long legs, while an oversized blue sweater slips off one shoulder, making her look far too comfortable in my kitchen. Almost like she belongs here…
“Let’s get you cleaned up before your daddy—”
Charlotte’s gaze flicks up to find me standing in the entryway. Her smile fades as her soft green eyes widen, tracing over my body before swiftly shifting her attention to Clara. “A-Alex.” She gently wipes yogurt from Clara’s face. “I was just giving Clara breakfast. I can make you something too, if you’d like?”
I drag my fingers through my hair, pushing it back. “That won’t be necessary.”
At the sound of my voice, Clara looks in my direction. Her entire face lights up. “Dada!” She throws both sticky hands into the air, demanding to be picked up.
And how could I ever say no to her?
I grin, walking directly to her. “Good morning, my little one.” I scoop her out of her high chair and snuggle her against my chest. She immediately reaches up for my glasses, as she does every morning, but I snag her hand and press a kiss to each of her little fingers, which sends her into a fit of giggles.
God, it’s crazy how quickly this beautiful little girl captured my heart.
My attention turns to Charlotte, who is suddenly busy cleaning the dishes.
My gaze drops briefly to myself. Bare chest… Inked skin… Grey sweatpants… I realize I might come off a little intimidating, especially knowing the kind of men she’s used to. “I apologize.” I stroke a hand down Clara’s back. “I should have thrown on a shirt before coming down.”
She swallows hard, glancing up. Her gaze traces over my chest before falling just as fast. “No,” she says a little too quickly. “Please don’t act differently just because I’m here.” She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Wear, or I guess, I mean…don’t wear whatever you want.” A faint flush rises along her cheeks as she turns back to the sink and scrubs at the plate in her hands with more focus than necessary.
I look at the clock on the wall. “I’d like to give you a tour of everything before I leave for the day.”
She turns off the faucet and dries her hands on the dishcloth nearby. “Of course.”
I lead her through the first floor, pointing out the gym, library, movie theater, formal dining room, and my office. Upstairs, I show her the additional guest rooms, the bathrooms, and end with my room.
I push the door open and step aside, gesturing for Charlotte to enter. “This is my room.”
Charlotte walks in, her eyes sweeping over the space. The king-sized bed rests against a matte-black accent wall, while the remaining walls are painted in warm earth tones. A floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace dominates one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the back wall, flooding the room with natural light and providing the perfect view of the lake beyond. If you step through the French doors, there’s a wrought-iron balcony where I sometimes like to sit with my morning coffee before Clara wakes up.
Everything is exactly where it belongs.
Neat.
Organized.
Clean.
Just the way I like it.
“Clara seems to enjoy being in here,” Charlotte notes, watching as my little girl wiggles in my arms, eager to get down.
The moment her feet hit the floor, she waddles as fast as her tiny legs will take her to the basket of folded blankets in the corner, pulling them out until they’re scattered across my floor. She giggles, proud of the mess she’s creating. The chaos used to make my heart race and my palms sweat, but knowing it makes my daughter happy only makes me grin. “If you ever need to keep her entertained,” I say, watching her, “that basket will do the trick.”
