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“Mama?”
I blushed. “Uh, no. But we’re working on that. Liam, will you do me a favor? Don’t tell anyone about her. Especially Sunny.”
“Why? You don’t imagine he’ll judge you.”
“I know he won’t.” As I said it, I knew it was true. Sunny would never fault me my past. “But he’ll do what you’re doing—ask me about her.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, no,” I said quickly, gripping his thigh without thinking. “I’m not upset that you asked. I’m happy you did, which is the problem. I could sit here for days and tell you every move she made and every sound she babbled, then I’d lock myself in a room for twice as long and cry till there was nothing left. I realized around the third time I considered suicide—”
Liam’s eyes widened a fraction.
“—that the only way I’d survive being away from her is by compartmentalizing. Even though she’s on my mind every minute of every day, I can’t give in to talking about her, missing her, wishing I could snatch her out of that crib and run, because if I do, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. When I’m with her, it’s just me and my baby, but when we’re apart...”
Liam laid his hand over mine. He caressed his thumb over my index finger, then my middle—slow and deliberate gliding the calloused digit along my skin. My hair stood on end, rising with my rippling flesh, and catching in my stopped breath and hard swallow.
“I understand. She stays between you and me.”
I think I opened my mouth to say something. All that went through my mind was his thigh— warm, hardened flesh beneath my palm. He was sending comfort into my bones. One single parent to another—providing understanding I couldn’t get from those with even the best of intentions. Liam, like me, was crushed under the knowledge that sometimes the safest place for your kid wasn’t next to you.
I knew this. Understood on a logical level that his touch was platonic. The soft smile on his lips—kindness. His touch—pity. Liam wasn’t coming on to me then, any more than his naughty joke the night before was an invitation. He had a lovely doctor coming over that night to provide the comfort he was looking for.
So why is his pinkie curling around mine? Beads of sweat pinpricked on the nape of my neck, cooling my heated skin as he turned my palm up.
Why is my breath coming in shallow pants? He glided along my palm, tracing a pattern on my skin.
Why can’t I look away from his lips?
Liam closed firm but gentle around my hand and drew me in.
“Kenzie?”
We froze.
“Are you coming back?” Tricky asked. She stood innocently in the doorway, slurping her unicorn smoothie.
Liam tugged me the rest of the way and tucked my chin in the crook of his neck. It took me a second to comprehend... the hug.
He patted me on the back, platonic, friendly, and pitying. “Between us,” he repeated. “And thank you, Mackenzie. Calvin and I will have a lot to talk about when I find him.” Getting to his feet, Liam released me. “She’s all yours, Lizzie. Dad’s going to start on the packing.”
“How long will I be at Grandma and Grandpas’?”
“Till they fill you with so much sugar I have to bring you home before all your teeth fall out of your head.”
She shrieked, laughing. “Daddy, you’re silly.”
Liam propelled her up by the wrists, smooched her cheek, and dropped her on her feet. I was calm and collected by the time she ran up to me.
“Ready?” I asked. “Let’s sketch this beauty. I bet by the time you come back, your jacket will be ready for you.” Turning, I flashed the phoenix on mine. “We’ll be matching.”
Elizabeth “Tricky” Hunt turned out to be ten times more exacting than all of the creative directors of Gucci, Chanel, Armani, Burberry, and Caddell House combined. She sat atop her literal throne—plush, purple, and child-size though it may be—and accepted or rejected bits of my design until it was perfect. Only when she was satisfied did she kiss my cheek, say goodbye, and then rush off to make sure Dad didn’t leave the must-have toys from her suitcase.
Liam caught the tail end of her goodbye, coming out to pour himself some coffee.
“It would seem I’m dismissed,” I told him, finishing up the shopping list on the back of the sketch. A smile stretched my face, aching the unused muscles, and refusing to go away. So long—it had been so long since I'd done this.
Begin the creation of something beautiful.
“You’re kind to do this for her. I assume what she wants isn’t going to be easy or quick.”
“You assume correctly, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before. Honestly, I’m gonna love the challenge.” I stopped short halfway to the door. “This conversation you’re going to have with Calvin, will you tell me what he says? If he did it or was paid by a pale bald man?”
