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Forever.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
MERCEDES
Three weeks later
“Mommy,I don’t want to wear this dress.” Lucy pulls on the hem and stomps her foot.
“Why?” I raise my eyebrow as she continues to throw a fit.
It’s so unlike her.
She started school a few days ago, and every morning, she gets excited about picking a new dress to wear, but today, she’s in a grumpy mood. It’s so unlike her.
“Cause a boy in school keeps flipping my dress up and showing the class my butt.” She goes into her closet and comes out with a pair of jeans.
“Oh! Well, have you told the teacher?” I turn around to grab a pair of shorts for her.
It’s too damn hot for jeans today.
“Yes, he got in trouble.” I take the long pants away from her as she pouts.
“Where shorts under your dress. And if it happens again, you tell your Daddy. He’ll take care of it.” Her eyes get wide, and she shakes her head.
“Daddy would hurt him!” I chuckle.
“Sometimes boys need to be hurt by Daddy so they learn a lesson. So if he doesn’t stop you, let him know, alright?” She nods and pulls the shorts on under her dress.
“Little Mouse?” Issac calls through the house, and Lucy giggles.
“Be down in a second,” I call out and push Lucy out of her bedroom.
Rebel overheard a story Finnegan told Lucy, and she painted a beautiful fairy forest on the walls for her. Avery even got her a fairy door where Lucy spends hours playing after school now. It’s wonderful, but some days, getting her to leave is a hardship.
“We’re going to be late! Go put your shoes on.” She runs off, and I grab her backpack and head down to see what Issac needs.
When I get to the kitchen, I freeze.
Abel is sitting at our table with a pair of glasses working on his laptop. I glance at Issac, who shrugs.
“He’s here to see you. I’ll take Lucy to school.” He kisses me and leaves me alone with the cyber genius.
“Morning, would you like some coffee?” I walk over to the pot and pour myself a cup.
“Might want to make that Irish.” His answer makes goosebumps rise on my arms.
“You found something.” I reach into the cabinet and pour a hearty amount of whiskey into my coffee at his suggestion.
“You can say that.” I walk over and sit next to him at the table.
I take a sip from my mug and hiss at the burn from the heat and alcohol.
“Ok, I’m ready.” I place the mug down just in case I feel the need to throw something when I hear whatever he needs to say.
“Do the names Alejandro and Ignacio Baez mean anything to you?” I shake my head and then stop myself.
“In passing, maybe. They sound familiar.” He nods and turns his computer around.
