Page 52 of Velvet Chains

For a second, it felt normal. Too normal.

I untangled myself from her and she flopped down on her stomach. Staying quiet, I padded my way to the bedroom and grabbed my phone, grimacing at my calendar. I was supposed to be meeting with Julian today because he wanted to introduce Rosie to the woman he was dating, and to make it as normal as possible, Julian had insisted that Alek and I were also there. So that was…weird.

I rubbed my eyes and debated texting Julian to cancel, but that would have turned into a whole thing. I could picture the texts now, coming at me rapid fire.

You said this was important for Rosie.

You said you wanted us to be civilized.

You said this wasn’t about us.

And it wasn’t—not really. Not even about him or his painfully curated “look how normal and healthy I am” new girlfriend. No…this was about Rosie. She needed to know that she had grownups who could get along and play nice and sit across the table without ripping each other’s throats out.

Grownups who were very Adult and Civilized and definitely weren’t fucking gangsters

I’d at least attained some level of humanity–thanks in large part to multiple cups of coffee–by the time Rosie came in sleepy and barefoot, rubbing her eyes. I leaned down to kiss her forehead, stroking her hair back from her temple.

“You hungry, baby?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around my leg. “Pancakes.”

“You can get super fancy pancakes at lunch with Dad,” I said. “You need help getting dressed?”

She yawned against my leg. “I’m gonna wear my sparkle dress.”

“Of course you are,” I muttered. “Because nothing says brunch like sequins and whipped cream.”

She perked up immediately. “Can I get chocolate chips on my pancakes? And strawberries? And bananas? And whipped cream? And—”

“Whatever you want,” I interrupted. “It’s brunch. We’re legally required to overdo it.”

“Cool!” She took off in a blur of curls and chaos, racing back to her room to get pancake-ready.

I hoped the sparkle dress didn’t come with a tiara this time. But I wasn’t betting on it

I needed to get dressed, too–and I wasn’t feeling the whole sparkly dress vibe. I went to the bathroom and locked the door behind me, then moved to the mirror and stared at my reflection. My eyes were darker than my hair. They felt tooserious, too intense. Guilt and exhaustion lined my face, and I tried to wash it off with a splash of cold water.

I needed to get my shit together. I needed to be functional.

I needed not to unravel.

In any way that mattered, we weren’t married anymore—not officially—and he might not have been her biological father, but Julian would protect her if anything happened to me. Rosie had a complicated family, but she still had one, and even though I’d cut Kieran out of it, she’d never be alone. My mom’s sisters would love her; Julian’s family, polite and patrician old money, they would throw lavish parties for her and let no one know she wasn’t actually one of them.

But that wouldn’t happen, because I’d still be around.

I’d learn how to shut Kieran out. I’d learn how to keep us safe.

I wasn’t going to let him destroy all the work I had put into cultivating a perfect, normal life for Rosie. Because I was stronger than that. Wasn’t I? Why couldn’t I fucking do that? Because he was good with his mouth? With his fingers? Because I…cared about him?

No.

“Mami,” Rosie called from the other room. “Can I wear pajamas?”

“Only if I, too, can wear pajamas.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Nevermind!”

I kicked my way out of my sleep shorts and pulled on a pair of black leggings, then tied my hair into a functional bun and tugged on a wool sweater. When I unlocked the door and left the bathroom, I found Rosie in a white dress with pink hearts and glitter sneakers.