Page 49 of The Night

“What? Oh! Right,” I said, reaching for the kettle to fill the cups. “On it.”

It was so unbearably tempting to ask Hazel for more information, to get answers from her to questions that seemed so hard to ask Liam.

But that would be shitty.

And besides, I wanted to hear it from Liam’s perspective.

He’d taken on someone else’s kid. What was that like? I’d already seen how parenting weighed on him sometimes, but knowing he was doing it alone? Damn.

“Hazel, how old are you exactly?” I asked.

“I’m going to be eight in August, and I’m going to have a party.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why? How old are you?”

“Forty in January,” I answered absently, doing a bit of mental math.

Liam had become Hazel’s guardian…five years ago.

My stomach twisted.

Why had it never fucking occurred to me thatIshould contact Liam? I’d been so fuckinghurtwhen Liam left—so upset that he’d made me want him,needhim, and then walked away—it had legitimately never entered my mind thatLiammight needme.But what if he had?What if, five years ago, Liam had needed hishusband?

“Gideon!” the tiny despot said.

“Huh? What?”

She sighed. “Isaiiid, our tea party is ready now!”

“Right, right.” I shook my head to clear it. “Hop up on the stool then, and let’s chow.”

She stared up at me in horror. “Hopup? Andchow? Gideon, don’t you know how tea parties work?”

I tucked my top lip between my teeth. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve actually never been to one before,” I admitted.

“Oh.” She clasped a hand to her chest. “That’s so sad.”

“Mmm.”

“Okay, I’ll show you everything to do! First, we must take our fine china”—she pointed to the heavy ceramic mugs—“to the tea table. And Fiadora will join us at the appointed time.”

“Fiadora,” I repeated, looking around for the cat. “Right. Um. Which way to the tea table?”

“Come along,” she said imperiously. She grabbed the plate of cinnamon toast, a plastic container of leftover cookies, and a bag of cat treats, had me grab the “fine china,” then led me to the coffee table in the living room. She sat cross-legged on one side of the table and pointed to the other. “That isyourseat for the party.”

I eyed the floor dubiously. There was a very lovely overstuffed couch right next to it.

“Gideon, trust me,” she said. “This is how you tea party.”

I nodded and sank down with minimal grace, then contorted myself to fit in the tiny space I was allotted.

Hazel set out the food and arranged the mugs appropriately, then she set two or three cat treats on one of the empty sides of the table. Sure enough, Fia came over to investigate a second later.

“Oh,Gertrude,” Hazel said in her fake British accent. “Doesn’t Fiadora’s new dress look stunning?”

Look, I’d never spent any time around kids before. I think that was pretty clear. So it shouldn’t be a shock that I had no idea Hazel was talking to me until she repeated, more loudly, “Gertrude!Isaid—”

“Wait. I’mGertrude?”

“Of course you are. Princess Gertrude. For heaven’s sake, don’t you know your own name?”