Page 97 of Whiskey and Regret

“See, you get it.”

“I know but when I see my baby girl all dressed up and looking grown…” I groaned, tilting my head back. “I lose my shit.”

“I know. Can I tell you a secret?” She laughed into her hand.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you’d veto the halter top. It was a bit much. Frankie is my little baby. I don’t want to see her in a halter yet. Maybe when she’s fifteen or sixteen.”

“I might agree to that,” I said, skimming my fingertips over Xari’s full lips.

“Sixteen and she can wear halter tops.” She popped up on the balls of her feet and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Why the fuck can’t decisions with Alexis go over this well?” I didn’t want to bring up Alexis while I had Xari in my arms but I hated the way I had to fight with her when it came to raising our daughter.

“Because Alexis is full of fillers. It’s in her brain now.” Even though I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel when I saw Frankie in that top, laughing with Xari brought me back down to earth.

“We’re still on for talking about that contract, right?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” Xari grinned.

“What contract?” Frankie walked in with an arm full of shirts and blouses. Xari and I jumped apart like we got caught fucking. My arm was only around her shoulders but Frankie had never seen us physically close that way. “Why was your arm around her, Dad?” She chuckled.

“Jesus, Frankie am I so mean you think I can’t give your nanny a hug?” Calling Xari a nanny felt wrong. She was a part of our little family now. She wasn’t just a nanny.

“Nanny?” Xari snapped, looking at me with eyes that could slice me in half. A nervous laugh was my only armor in a gunfight.

“Xari is like my big sister,” Frankie said, also taking offense to me calling Xari her nanny.

“Right. I mean, not exactly a sister but…” I tried to distance Frankie from thinking about Xari like a sister. It would make shit weird when I told her…

What the hell was I going to tell her?

Had I decided to take the next step with Xari?

“Look, let’s pick out one shirt from the five million you have so you can put my clothes back.” Xari clapped her hands. Frankie eyed me for a little while before dropping the clothes on her bed.

I decided to leave before I interjected my opinion in any more outfit choices. I went to the den and tried to look over work emails but my book kept calling. I always answered when words called.

My lips burned for a sip of whiskey but I refrained. I heard Xari’s voice telling me I didn’t need to drink when I wrote. I didn’t need to hide my passion.

So, instead of pouring myself a glass of Jameson, I started typing.

“Okay, I got her down to one of my shirts. She’s putting the rest of them back.” Xari sat beside me and kicked her bare feet up. “Ooh, is this A Heart’s Ache?” She asked, looking at the words on my laptop. It was the second half of my finished book; A Heart’s Song. I was impressed that she could tell.

“Yeah. I should be working but…”

“When passion calls, it calls. It’s like a drug. Now, imagine how amazing your high would be if you sent a query letter to a couple hundred publishers and you heard back from one.” She beamed with a smile.

“You make it tough to write when you’re filling my head with dreams.”

“It could be your reality but you’re being a scared bitch.” She poked me and I grabbed her hand without even a second passing. I bit her finger, trapping it between my teeth. “Okay!” She conceded with a laugh, snatching her finger out of my mouth.

“Now, let me get some words in, woman.” I nipped at her shoulder.

“Fine. You know I’m right though.”

“Nah. You’re being crazy. My stuff isn’t ready for a publisher,” I insisted.

“Okay, Evander.” She rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’m going to practice.”