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"Fine," I grouse, grabbing the pastries. I've seen Benedetto give her sweets here and there, so I'm not too worried about spoiling her appetite. I'll make sure to brush her teeth after, though, because I don’t want her to get cavities. "You can tryone. You don't get an entire cake, though. These are for me."
I break off a piece of Zebra cake and give it to Pickles. She gobbles it down, then whines and presses her nose on my knee.
"Oh my God." I try to ignore her cute face, but I can't. "You'll be the death of me. I can't believe Benedetto hasn’t put you in a muzzle."
I'm pretty sure those are illegal, but Pickles definitely needs one. She's way too good at begging and none of us say no to her. Maybe I should force her into a cone of shame. Then at least she wouldn't be so cute when tugging on my heartstrings.
(Although she’d probably find a way to make that adorable, too.)
"One more bite." I claw back a growl as I stare into her eyes. "I'm serious this time. I'm trying to color and you're distracting me."
I feed her another bite of the Zebra cake, and this time, she relents. She lies down next to me and stares at my drawing.
Thank God. It's hard to immerse yourself in Little headspace when you have a cute dog begging for food by your side. Coloring is a mentally taxing task, and if something's distracting me, I can't possibly do it right.
But this time, somethingelsesteals my attention. I've barely pressed my forest green crayon to the second page when the door opens.
"There you are." Benedetto steps into the room. "May I enter?"
That's one thing I adore about Benedetto. Even though we’re close as hell, he gives me my personal space. He knows I didn't have any at the warehouse, and he doesn't want to walk in on me when I’m trying to relax.
"Yes, Daddy." My insides turn warm and fuzzy as I flip my coloring book over. "I'm just coloring some aliens."
Poorly, I should add. I don't admit this lest Benedetto snicker at me.
Benedetto walks to my side. "You're hard at work, boy. I shouldn’t distract you." He nods at Pickles. "Although it looks like Pickles already has."
I groan as I set my crayons down. "Fine." I raise my hands in surrender. "I'll show you my terrible drawing. Brace yourself, because this isn't what Arlo intended."
I hand Daddy my coloring book. His face shifts as he stares at the first page, and I realize he's holding back a laugh.
"This is wonderful." He tousles my hair. "You're a little Picasso."
I cross my arms over my chest. "You can tell me it's terrible, Daddy." A sigh of disappointment escapes me. "I might be a bad artist, but I'm not delusional."
Benedetto sits down by my side. "Thereissomething I need to tell you, boy." He runs his thumb across my hand. "But it doesn't have anything to do with your wonderful art. I'll hang this on the fridge."
"What is it?" I furrow my brow.
"There's someone I met with before the wedding. I planned to discuss it with you, but I didn't want to spoil your enjoyment. I held back until now."
I rest my hand on Daddy’s. "You can tell me. I'll put my big boy listening ears on, so I'll hear."
Benedetto sets my coloring book on the floor and squeezes my hand. "Do you know a boy named Nolan?"
I furrow my brow. "I don't." My voice is hesitant. "But you know I remember little about my life. Why do you ask?"
Benedetto sets his phone on my knee and opens his camera app. "This is Nolan. Someone took him from a park close to the Diavolos’ warehouse four years ago. I have reason to believe he was in the basement with you."
I gasp… oh my God. The boy in the picture is so familiar. A chill rakes across my spine.
"Yes, Daddy." I stare at Benedetto. "This is my friend. They didn't call him Nolan in the warehouse."
"What did they call him?"
"Sparrow."
"How do you recognize him?"
