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She nods but doesn’t move.
“I just wanted to apologize. Again. Face to face. I’m so sorry for—”
“For what? I told you, it’s forgotten,” I snap off, more harshly than I mean to.
She gives her head a small shake, looking at me pensively.
Her lips have the opposite effect. If the kid weren’t here, I might hurl caution to the wind.
It would be too easy to close the space between us and reclaim that ripe strawberry of a mouth with my teeth.
“For the way I talked to you when you offered to go to Abby’s with me,” she answers.
I fold my arms, leveling a stare. “You’ve already apologized for that several times. It was no big deal. I told you.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you come in?” I step back and wave a hand toward my living room.
She nods nervously and follows me in, where she stops midstep.
“Oh.” Her mouth drops open. “This place—it’s beautiful, Nick. I love your fireplace.”
“I had it redesigned recently by my own crew. We filmed and photographed the entire thing. It’ll be showcased for Brandt Dreams.”
“I can see why! It’s seriously breathtaking.” She repositions Millie for the second time.
“You can put her down. Let the little lady stretch her legs,” I say.
Reese surveys the room. “Um, everything here looks high-end. Expensive and pretty breakable.”
I chuckle. “You worry too much. If she breaks something, I’ll make her work it off. Right, Millie?”
She smiles like a cherub. “Yeahhh! I’ll clean the whole playroom!”
“The whole room?” I return her smile. “That’s bold. You’ll have to sweep the floors, too.”
Her face wrinkles. “But...but the broom is bigger than me.”
“We’ll compromise,” I assure her, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
“You hear that? Be good for us.” Reese holds her up, resting her forehead on Millie’s. “I’ll put you down, but stay away from the fireplace. No running, no jumping, and no flippies of any kind, okay? Your feet stay planted on the ground and you move slowly.”
“Flippies, Auntie Reese!” she says with a giggle.
“Millie—”
“I’ll be good. Pwomise.”
Reese sets her down on my marble floor.
“Can I take your coat?”
“Oh, we won’t be here long. I just wanted to—”
“Apologize. Why do you think I need to hear it a hundred times?” I ask her.
She sighs. “I was way too harsh. I was rude to you, Nick. You were just trying to help. You’ve only tried to help lately. You didn’t deserve what I said and you also deserve better than a half-joking text or two.”
Her eyelashes flutter, cutting me in two. I hope she never finds out how impossible it is to stay mad at her over a flippant comment.
“Really, truly, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. For us. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but I’ve thought things over and...yeah. I’d welcome your help tracking down Will Frisk. It was stupid of me to refuse.”
I shrug. “Are you sure? I’m still willing to help, but I’ll back off if that’s what you want. When you told me to mind my own business, I should’ve listened. It’s just hard when we ride around this frigid-ass city all winter with barely a hint of sun to look forward to.” I stop, far too close to telling her it’s her smile I look forward to when there’s no sunrise. I lean forward so Millie can’t hear. “Listen, if someone fucks with you, they’re fucking with me, too. That’s how it is now.”
Her eyes dance when she laughs.
I think she lingers a second too long, breathes too deep, inhaling me.
Shit.
“That’s sweet, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”
“Wrong. You’re strong and capable. I’m just breaking your fall,” I say. “There was no point in leaving you to suffer through it alone when I can help.”
“I’m not used to people helping, so help makes me nervous,” she says, those pastel-blue eyes darting away. “Abby was the only person I’ve ever been able to count on. It’s weird because with you—without the company—I’d be totally alone...”
She shrugs with both shoulders so high it’s like she’s retreating into a shell.
Reese has never been this open with me before.
That picture from the night I mashed up her heart comes back to me. Yeah, I think she’s as beautiful tonight as she was on that fake date before our brush with Carmen.
It’s in the eyes. They’re soft, bottomless, trusting.
Goddamn, Nick Brandt, you’re such an idiot.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Millie!”
My eyes trail Reese’s gaze to the source of the sound.
Millie stands in front of the sliding glass door to my balcony, slapping it with both hands.
I smile. “She’s okay.”
“She’s going to keep her hands to herself, aren’t you, Millie?” Reese says, hands on her hips. She’s more adorable than ever when she’s trying to sound stern.
Walnut-brown hair cascades over her face when Millie drops her head.
“Yes, Auntie Reese.”
“Since you didn’t let me take your coat, why don’t we all go check out the balcony? You’ll love the view,” I say, already approaching the door.
