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She twirls a finger between us. “This. You and her and Ophelia.”
“Get that out of your head right now,” I hiss and lean closer. “There is no us where she and I are concerned.”
“You are acting mighty territorial for that statement to be true.”
“Keep your opinions to yourself,” I grouse and send a rock skittering across the patio with the toe of my shoe. I’d never admit her assessment nears the mark.
“Whatever. I’m just saying, I’ve convinced her to stay until the wedding, so do with that information as you will.”
I grasp her arm with gentle pressure and direct her back to my door. “I really hope you’re not filling her head with dreams that won’t come true because I can tell you, this isn’t a fairy tale.”
Evie yanks her arm away, her red hair spinning behind her on a whirl. “Yeah, I’d say more than most, she gets that this isn’t a freaking fairy tale, Dane.” Her mocking tone hits its mark.
“Just keep it to yourself.”
“Will do. We’ll get out of your hair.”
We reach my apartment with still no sign of Caiti. I look at the tired girl in Evie’s arms. “You don’t need to carry her back up the stairs. I’ll go check and text you if she’s good.”
“Thanks.” Her tone loses some of its heat. “She already said her goodnights to this one, so maybe she’s waiting upstairs for you.”
My eyes travel to Ophelia. “Good night, princess. You sleep good for your Auntie Evie, okay?” The endearment feels foreign but oh-so right for my little girl.
She lifts her arms straight out in my direction. A warmth spreads through my chest as I take her into my secure hold. Her little body snuggles right into my chest, and her arms wrap around my neck. My voice is hoarse when I tell her, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nods against my shoulder. I soak her in for a moment longer, not wanting to make Evie linger when she’s already doing so much to help, and relinquish her back to her aunt.
Silence greets me when I reach the top of the stairs. I swear if she found a way to sneak out of here, the ensuing fight won’t be pretty. I’m not interested in an ugly custody battle, but she can’t show up here after three years and expect me not to be involved. Otherwise, what was the point?
That’s exactly what I’m hoping to find out.
Both my bedroom and spare room are empty, and the door to the bathroom is wide open. I pass through the living room on my way to check for her car when a rustle ensnares my attention.
A smile twitches my lips and chases away the burden for a moment. The visual of her dark hair tousled over the side of her face, her parted pink lips, and her arm thrown across her eyes inks itself in my mind.
Caiti fell asleep on my damn couch.
A piece of me wants to be mad. What in the stall tactic dictionary is this? If she hadn’t had such a trying day, I’d accuse her of faking. But knowing she spent over twenty hours in the car the past two days and eight more in the emergency room today testifies to her exhaustion.
Even with her nap this afternoon, she deserves to catch up on her rest.
The only problem is I didn’t intend for her to sleep on my couch. The old furniture is as uncomfortable as it is ugly.
I stalk to the kitchen for a glass of water while I ponder what to do and send Evie a quick text that she’s able to take off. I could risk moving her and court her wrath if I wake her in my arms, or I could leave her there and feel like a jackass for sleeping in my king-sized bed.
A sharp cry cuts the contemplation short.
“Nooooo.” A gut-wrenching sob tears from her throat. “Please don’t go.”
The wail is so loud, I swear she’s awake. “Caiti?”
“Don’t leave me. Promise you won’t go!”
Reaching the back of the couch, I look down. Tears stream down her cheeks from behind closed eyes. “Caiti, you’re having a bad dream.” I move around the side and crouch down at the front. She doesn’t seem to register my voice.
“I don’t want to be alone.” She hiccups through a sob. Without any other ideas in my inventory, I reach out a hand to gently shake her. My fingertips barely graze her shoulder. She sucks in a sharp breath and rolls over, cradling my hand against her chest.
“You’re here,” she breaths through a choppy exhale. The sobs calm to gentle waves, and her breathing begins to even out. She’s still asleep.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t leave me.” Her plea splits me into two.
“I won’t.” I swallow against the knot in my throat. “I won’t leave you.” Not sure what else to do, I hoist her into my arms. She doesn’t stir more than to snuggle into my chest much like our daughter had not long ago.
I walk us carefully into my bedroom and close the door partway with my foot. With gentle movements, I lower her to the bed and pull my duvet up to her chin. I notice the tracks from her tears left imprints on my shirt, sending another twinge to my chest. I really got myself into an unfamiliar position here. I’m not cruel enough to rip a child away from her mother, but where does that leave me when she ultimately decides she can’t stay?
I deposit my boots next to my closet door, and without removing a stitch of clothing, I lay on the other edge of my king-sized bed.
A million thoughts race around my head. Some encourage me to go. Others urge me to stay. Some want to pull her into my arms and not let go like she begged even though I’m certain it wasn’t me filling her dreams.
I settle for a compromise.
Close enough in case she needs me, but not too close to invade her space. Once I know she’s fast asleep, I’ll return to the couch.
But for now?
I’ll wait.
For as long as she needs.
