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“Not really.”
“Your mom would disagree,” I insist. I can only imagine the hell I’d pay if Morgan caught wind of this.
“But she isn’t here.”
It’s hard to argue with facts. My lungs strain under the pressure of holding my breath. I haven’t been adequately trained to field these delicate—and potentially traumatizing—discussions. “How about I pretend to be your super cool aunt instead?”
“That’s not as fun,” she complains.
“Syd,” I say and reach for her hands. “This feels like a big deal. I understand why you’re asking me to be your fake mom. We have a close relationship and I love spending time with you.” The lump in my throat returns tenfold. “But I’m worried about pretending to fill such an important role for you. It might bother your mom or dad.”
“Should we ask my dad?”
“No, that’s not really what I meant.”
“We can keep it a secret.” She whispers the compromise in a giddy rush that leads me to believe everyone in Knox Creek will hear about this by nightfall.
“It’s an idea we can—”
A knock on the door interrupts me, and I cross my fingers that Joy has arrived with a poop emergency. I will gladly handle an explosive blowout to gain a few moments to unwind this clusterfuck I’ve gotten myself in.
Sydney leaps to her feet and races to the entryway. “I’ll get it!”
“Let me check the peephole first,” I blurt while scrambling to stand.
But it’s too late, and another unexpected guest is about to be welcomed into our fake family drama.
Sydney is the one to fling open the door. “Daddy! Come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I almost fall flat on my ass at her appearance, but manage to stumble over the threshold instead. The loud slam that follows knocks me from the stupor. “Hey, Boop. What happened to your mouth?”
It’s impossible to miss the grotesque smear across her lips that resembles blood. I glance behind my daughter to find Harper trying to blend in with the background. She wiggles her fingers in a wave but doesn’t greet me otherwise. The flush coloring her slender throat makes me want to trace the splotches with my tongue.
“I found Miss Harper’s lipstick.” Syd’s announcement swats my dirty thoughts into the gutter where they belong until after dark.
“Yes, I can see that.” My gaze appraises her handy work. “You did… something special there.”
She could probably get hired as a clown with a bit more practice. As if hearing my insight, she stretches her grin broad enough to scare her own reflection. “We’re playing dress up.”
I flick my eyes to Harper, noting her usual appeal. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. Harper is my fake mom.”
The wind gets sucked from my sails and I double-over with a cough. “What was that?”
My daughter huffs. “She’s gonna pretend to be my mom.”
I stare at the woman involved in this farce. “Did you agree to this?”
She wrings her fingers until the knuckles turn white. “No, not really?”
“That’s convincing.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.
Her eyes are round, searching mine for guidance. “I didn’t influence or encourage the idea.”
“But you didn’t discourage it either,” I guess.
This game of make-believe could swing heavily in my favor. It would take minimal effort to plant the idea in Sydney’s head that the three of us could be a family. A pleased rumble rolls through my chest. Fuck, that sounds like a dream I don’t deserve to have. But using my daughter’s attachment to Harper for my benefit is a dick move, even for me.
