Page 42 of Please Open Me
So I added a small thing of unsalted fries to the order. Gave her one to hold on the drive home. She didn’t eat it, just clutched it in her tiny fist like a golden scepter, waving it around like she was the Queen of Everything. Her two-tooth grin split her face open with joy.
I also grabbed meals for everyone at home—including Sophia, but excluding Lucian.
Because, again: fuck him.
I didn’t want Mason cooking tonight, and Lucian could starve.
Rosie didn’t make a sound on the drive. Just sat in her seat, solemn and smiling, waving that limp fry like it was a sparkler. Every now and then she’d squeal or babble to herself, like she was updating me on important baby gossip.
When we pulled into the driveway, her whole face lit up like she knew exactly where we were—and that her favorite people were inside.
Well. Besides me. Because I, obviously, was her favorite.
She had taste.
The twins immediately started yelling to be let out. I unbuckled them, and they scrambled to grab their Happy Meals—completelyforgettingtheir backpacks.
Figures.
I made a mental note to grab them later, then unbuckled Rosie. I hoisted her onto my hip and she clapped her hands like she’d just won something.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re home,” I murmured, brushing her soft copper curls back.
They were getting long. No matter how many clips or tiny elastics Mason used, they always sprang free. I’d suggested a trim once. Mason looked at me like I asked her to commit treason.
So I dropped it.
I balanced the food in one hand and Rosie in the other. Her fry was now floppy and wet, but she still held it high, like a baby torchbearer.
Cameron opened the door before I could even knock—like he’d been standing on the other side, waiting.
The twins bolted past him into the kitchen, already arguing about whose toy was better. I lingered, watching Cameron too closely.
“You’re acting weird,” I said, toeing off my shoes and stepping inside.
“I ain’t even said nothin’,” he protested.
“Yeah. That’s, what’s weird.”
His lips parted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. His pupils were a little too dilated, and for a moment I wondered if he was high.
But no, Cameron wouldn’t. Alcohol? Sure. Drugs?Never.
Rosie squirmed on my hip, stretching toward him. Her little hands opened and closed with purpose.
He reached for her.
I turned away.
“Mine,” I said, kissing her forehead.
Those weird hours at the shop were fine. After years of letting S.H.A.D.E. control my schedule, ten-to-seven was paradise. I didn’t even mind when Lucian wanted to stay late.
But Rosie’s bedtime was 7:30. And because of that, I missed a lot.
Cameron raised an eyebrow and held out his hands.
I shook my head. “You can’t take her. I never see her, and she’s getting big.”
