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I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll ask.”
I turn back to the woman behind the counter, who has already gone moony-eyed again. If this is how women respond to a man with a child, then fathers out there have got to step up their game. I’m doing the bare fucking minimum.
“I’ve got a request for cherry and chocolate and sprinkles. Do you have anything like that?”
Her smile shifts into a wince. “I could do a scoop each of Chocolate Brownie Batter and Very Merry Berry. That has mixed berries in it, but no cherries.”
“This is an ice cream shop. You have to have some cherries in here somewhere for sundaes.”
“Those aren’t for the ice cream, though. They’re for sundaes.”
“Says who?” I ask.
She frowns. “Says… management?”
“Is management here?” I lean over the counter to peek into the back room. As far as I can tell, the woman is working alone.
“No.”
“Okay,” I say, coaxing her along to my way of thinking. “Then let’s imagine a world where you put sundae cherries into some chocolate brownie ice cream and then drop some sprinkles on top. How easy would that be?”
She blinks at me. “We don’t have a price for that.”
I bite back a grimace and reach into my wallet. I pull out a hundred dollar bill and drop it on the top of the glass case. “Here’s the tip I’m going to leave you. Do you have a price for it now?”
Her eyes widen. In one flash, she whips the bill off the glass and nods. “It’s actually the price of a normal scoop of ice cream. No extra charge.”
“Wonderful,” I say icily. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
In a matter of minutes, the woman has blended together a custom scoop of chocolate cherry brownie ice cream with sprinkles.
We eat on a bench outside, sitting quietly as cars drive down Main Street. It’s far from bustling, but there are enough people out and about to keep us interested until Yuliana scrapes her spoon across the bottom of her ice cream dish.
“All done,” she declares, thrusting the bowl in my direction.
I take it from her and then reach over her head to drop it in the trash can next to her. I’d planned to take a walk or maybe hit up a nearby park, but it took Yuliana twice as long as I expected to finish her ice cream. The sun is starting to dip low and we should probably get back to Rayne before she wakes up.
Sated by the ice cream, Yuliana is down for anything. I suggest going back to the room and she hops off the bench and plods inside on her flashing feet. No desperate women accost us in the lobby or the elevator, thankfully.
It’s another story once we get into the room, though. The moment I unlock the door to the room, I hear Rayne’s voice.
“I know I’m her mother, Lana,” Rayne bites out. “And you’re her aunt, which is why I’m calling to see if you’ve seen her. I just woke up and she was gone.”
There’s a pause while Lana responds. I grab Yuli’s shoulder and press my finger to my lips. She smiles, thinking we’re sneaking up on her mom. We are, in a way. Mostly, I want to hear what Rayne is going to say when she thinks no one else is listening.
“I didn’t invite him here; he came on his own. And he isn’t going to hurt her. I’m actually going to be the one doing the hurting once I find him.” She blows out a long breath. “I was stupid. I reached out to him after that lunch with Dad. I didn’t know which way was up. I needed someone to take care of me and—Yes, I know you could have done it, but I didn’t trust you, either. I needed someone objective.”
I knew her freakout had something to do with her dad, but she wasn’t in a head space to give me details when I found her. Maybe she’ll be up for it later. Then I’ll go kill her father for making her cry. I could wait for the cancer to do it for me, but patience has never been a virtue of mine.
Rayne lets out a bitter laugh at whatever Lana says. “Yeah, I guess Kirill isn’t exactly objective. Still, I trust him. He makes me… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter! I need to find out where Yuliana is before I—”
Suddenly, Yuliana rips out of my hold and bursts into the living room. “Boo!”
Rayne yelps and spins around, her phone dangling from her hand at my side. Her eyes instantly go glassy at the sight of her daughter. “Oh, thank God! Where were you?”
Yuliana fights off Rayne’s attempts at a tight hug, squirming away from her. “I had ice cream. Chocolate and cherry and sprinkles. I ate it outside and a lady wanted to marry Kirill.”
“What?” Rayne leans back and assesses her from head to toe. “Who wanted to—What?”
