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I ended the call and started moving. “Alice, where are you?”
My palms began to sweat.
Oh God, I lost his daughter.
I was officially not to be trusted with children. ItoldBeck we needed a grown-up to supervise.
Panic rose in my throat as I dashed around the kitchen. The pizza remained in place, the box open on the marble island.
She was just here. Where could she have gone?
The pantry?No.
Bathroom?No.
The closet under the stairs? Alsono.
The only thing saving my sanity was that my door would have beeped had she gone outside. I sent a mental thanks to Sebastian for the impeccable work he did designing his security app.
Something crashed upstairs.
Fuck.
I took the stairs two at a time, stopping abruptly at the adorable landing between floors. It was a gorgeous little alcove I used when I had a chance to read, and it occasionally served as my friend Faith’s ersatz painting room.
And there’s my floral vase from Oaxaca broken into a million little pieces on the ground.
Tears pooled in Alice's eyes. “I'm so sorry. I wanted to grab that.” She pointed to a wooden princess doll I’d gotten from Magical Moments twenty years ago. My grandmother had taken me to this adorable little town called Christmas Cove, and the visit was filled with love, cookies, and celebrations that included the whole town. My grandmother died the following year, and those memories became imprinted on me as the last holiday before her passing.
At least it wasn't the doll.
The vase was expensive, but the doll was priceless.
“It's okay,” I promised her. “Areyouokay?” I scanned her body for any obvious injury.
Her tears threatened to spill over.
Ohhh, no. I don’t think I could handle tears.
“I have an idea. Come get the dustbin with me and help me clean this up. Then we will go back downstairs—where we will stay—until your dad picks you up. Capiche?”
“What's capiche?”
I blinked.Riiiight, she's seven, not twenty-seven.
“Sound good?” I clarified.
She nodded earnestly. “Yes, let me help clean up.”
So we set to our task. I obviously kept her away from the shards and had even insisted she get shoes before helping. Gold star to me.
After we finished, my stomach growled. “You ready for pizza, Alice? Because I'm starving.”
“Let's go!” She raced down the stairs with the energy of a… well, a seven-year-old.
“Oh, boy…” I muttered.
CHAPTER4