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‘It is,’ Rainer admitted. ‘But I don’t know Sophia personally. And you said she’s working round the clock, so I just put two and two together.’
Wolf felt awful. Was he really letting Sophia make herself more stressed than she needed to be? He was meant to be her protector. More than that, he was meant to be her Daddy. And he was failing her massively. Fuck. Rainer was right.
As the realization dawned on Wolf, he felt ice in his veins. This was serious and urgent — much more important than the renovation of the pub.
He gritted his teeth. ‘You’re probably right, Rainer. Much as Idon’tlike to admit it. But… what can I do about it?’
‘Let’s take a break,’ Rainer said. ‘We’ll talk it through. Then you’ve got a tough job ahead of you.’
‘What job is that?’
‘You’ve got to help a hyped-up Little calm down enough to realize that the advice you’ve got for her is healthy.’
Ah. Yep. That did sound tough.
*
You can’t rush the restoration of an antique stuffie. There are stages. It’s a process. You can’t just shove them in an industrial washing machine, then into a tumble drier and be done with it. But Sophia wished it was an option. She wished so damn hard it was hurting her brain.
‘Why hasn’t anyone invented a machine that does this for me?’ she said, her voice sounding a touch more manic than it was meant to. It didn’t matter — when you talk to yourself, you can use whichever tone of voice you like. ‘I can talk like this if I want to,’ she said, in Daffy Duck’s voice.
‘Ow!’ she yelped, as she pricked her finger with the sharp end of a needle. ‘Ow ouchy ow! I don’t have time to be in pain!’ A bead of blood blossomed on the tip of her finger. It had to be a deep prick. ‘This is no good. This is no good.’
She was right in the middle of the most delicate part of the first restoration — the restitching of the seam. The fur had been cleaned (a multi-stage process involving all manner of delicate, specific tools) the stuffing had been replaced (only historically appropriate stuffing materials will do for these important bears), and cosmetic damage had been repaired (matching the original shade and color of the bear was an involved process). Now, she was bringing all of that work together. A wrong stitch could undo all the hours she’d spent.
There was no way she could do this with a hurty finger — just no way. And if she spilled so much as a drop of blood on one of these lovely creatures… yeep. It was back to square one.
She never normally hurt herself when she was working. But then again, she never normally worked like this. It had been non-stop. She knew that she needed a break, but she just couldn’t allow herself even a moment’s rest. At least she was working in the bathroom, which meant that the only necessary breaks — toilet breaks — took the minimum amount of time.
See, on her application to restore the bears in question, she’d given herself an insane deadline. A deadline so crazy that — by her calculation — she’d only be able to manage it if she worked sixteen hours a day.
‘So, that’s what I’m going to have to do,’ she said. ‘And I’ll just use my other fingers.’ She sucked her hurty finger. ‘Ouch ow ow,’ she said with her finger in her mouth. Maybe she could put something around it to stop the blood seeping out? A sock?
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Wolf. Daddy.’
Her stomach churned. She wanted to see him so badly — it had been horrible to be by herself these past few days. The trouble was, she had so much work to do. Still, if she let him in and talked to him for a little while — say two minutes — she could just work two more minutes today and then sleep two minutes less.
That was the answer. Just two minutes of Daddy time.
She went and opened the door. Wolf was sweaty, wearing just a white tank top and torn jeans. Sophia’s eyes flicked to his slick, bulging arms. Ugh, how badly she wanted him to take her in those arms — never mind the sweat — and pin her up against the wall and…
‘Fuck,’ Wolf said. ‘You look tired.’
‘Do I?’ she asked, feeling her eyes twitch. That was no problem — that was just what happened when she didn’t sleep as much as she’d like to. Didn’t mean anything was wrong w—
‘Are your eyes okay, babygirl?’
He stepped forward and gently held her cheek, staring at her with intensity.
‘Of course. Why? What’s wrong?’ She felt her anxiety rising.
‘You seem on edge.’
‘Of course I’m on edge!’ she practically shrieked. ‘I’ve got twenty fricking bears to bring back to some semblance of happiness!’ She gestured at the carefully organized pile of soft toys that were stacked in the corner of the room.
