Page 91 of Beauty and the Daddy

The heart crawls up my throat. I plant my hands on the floor to steady myself, staring at this kid who just blew my biggest secret wide open.

"I'm not—" I stop, because lying to a kid on her face feels like kicking a puppy. I try again. "I ate something weird."

She rolls her eyes. "No, silly! You're going to be a mommy."

"Sofia, I—" What do I even say? "What makes you think that?"

She shrugs. "You're sick in the morning. You don't eat breakfast. You cry at cartoons now. And you hold your tummy like this." She demonstrates, placing her small hand protectively on her belly. "Emma's mom did all that, too. She told me so at school."

I laugh and almost cry at the same time.

"Come here," I whisper, and she does, stepping into my arms. I hold her close, this child who somehow already has a piece of my heart. "You're very smart, you know that?"

"Thank you." She nods against my shoulder. "Can I have a sister? Or maybe a brother. I don't mind."

I can't breathe for a second. Love is such a stupid, reckless thing. It shows up with pigtails, announces a plan, and now you're all-in.

I then pull her into my lap on the tile, and she tucks her head under my chin.

"Listen," I say, very serious. "We do not tell Daddy anything until I say so. I want to tell him when I think the time is right."

She leans back and squints. "Secret?"

"Big one."

She thinks. "Pinky promise?"

We link fingers. Her pinky finger is warm, tiny, and full of blackmail potential. "Pinky promise," I say. "Also, we don't tell Daddy I was sick. He'll only… worry."

She considers this seriously, then nods. "I promise. But you have to promise too."

"Promise what?"

"That you'll stay." Her voice gets smaller. "With me and Daddy. Forever."

My throat closes up. This beautiful child, who's already lost one mother, is asking me not to leave her.

"I promise," I whisper, and I mean it with every cell in my body. Whatever else happens, I won't abandon Sofia, or the baby growing inside me. "I'm not going anywhere."

She hugs me fierce and tight, then pulls away. "Can I have a cookie now?"

I laugh, wiping tears I didn't realize had fallen. "Sure. Let's go raid the cookie jar. You carry on. I'll be there in ten."

She nods and runs off.

I stand up, rinsing my mouth quickly and splashing cold water on my face. I look like hell, but maybe a cookie will help bring some color back to my cheeks.

I'm halfway to the kitchen when a shadow detaches itself from the wall. Declan steps into my path, like the devil himself.

"Afternoon," he says, far too pleasant for my liking.

"Declan."

Declan's gaze holds on me. He sees too much; that's his thing. He'd make a great therapist if you didn't mind being psychologically mugged.

"You look pale," he says lightly, like he's being nice.

"Long night." I shrug.