Page 107 of Desperate Games

But I keep my mouth shut because the fire in her eyes when she talks about aperture and exposure is worth more than my peace of mind.

This morning, when I asked how long she planned on being holed up in there—since it’s Callie’s school play this afternoon—she surprised me with a laugh.

“You think I’ve been in the darkroom?” she asked, nose scrunched, looking at me like I was an idiot.

Hint: I was.

She told me she’s been using her digital cameras and editing software for her newest projects.

And of course, that just made me love her more. Because she was right, of course, she was right. I was an idiot. Andy’s already an excellent mom, and I should’ve trusted her to know what was best for her and the babies.

So, I showed her how much I loved her.

Dropped to my knees.

Pushed up that maternity dress she swears is the only thing she fits in.

Bullshit.

She wears them because she knows how they make me feel.

How hot. How feral. How desperate.

Easy access, too.

Always helpful when I can’t keep my hands off her.

Let’s just say I had my breakfast twice.

And I didn’t stop eating until she was screaming my name like a prayer.

Yeah, life is beautiful.

It’s two weeks till Christmas, and I’m in full spoiled-husband mode.

I want to give my girls everything.

So here I am, in a high-end department store on my lunch break, buying out half their toy inventory and every goddamn maternity dress that makes me think of her bent over the counter.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I answer, still half-grinning like an idiot.

It’s my lawyer.

And in the next five minutes, everything turns to shit.

Julio Castillo.

A name I never thought twice about.

My sister’s ex.

Callie’s biological father.

The ghost who’s never given a single fuck about her in three years.

He’s back. And he’s suing me for custody.