Page 153 of Chains of Recompense
He lifts her with practiced ease and carries her upstairs, her arms already slack around his neck.
I follow a few steps behind, stopping in the doorway to her room.
Raf lowers her onto the bed gently, like she’s something precious and breakable.
He tucks the blankets around her, smooths her hair back from her face.
A routine which has quickly become my favorite part of the day.
“Night, peanut,” he murmurs. “I love you.”
She stirs just enough to smile. “Love you too, Daddy.”
The word still makes my throat tighten.
About a month ago, we had the very hard conversation with Riley about who her real parents are, and it went shockingly well.
Riley was very excited because, as she put it, we are her two favorite people in the whole wide world, and now, not only does she get to live with us, but she has a claim to real, live grandparents as well—a fact my mother was less happy to discover.
But she’s coming around about the name Grandma.
I lean against the doorframe, watching Raf, memorizing this version of him.
Not the Don.
Not the fighter.
Just a father, kneeling beside his daughter, making sure the nightlight is on and no monsters are hiding under her bed.
When he turns and sees me watching, something soft crosses his face.
“She out?” I whisper.
“Gone,” he says.
We close the door quietly and walk back down the hall together, hands brushing, then linking without either of us thinking about it.
The house is calmer now, family gradually filtering out with promises to visit soon.
My parents linger just long enough to kiss me goodbye and tell Raf again how proud they are of us.
When the last guest leaves, the silence that follows settles over me like a comforting blanket.
Raf turns to me, eyes warm and intent, and before I can say anything, he kisses me.
It’s slow, unhurried.
The kind of kiss that makes my knees weak for no dramatic reason.
I laugh softly against his mouth. “You’re going to make me forget how tired I am.”
“That’s the idea,” he murmurs.
He scoops me up without warning, and I squeak, clutching at his shoulders as butterflies take flight in my belly.
“Raf!”
“You didn’t say no,” he points out, already heading for the stairs.
