Page 46 of Between the Lines

Fia snorts. “Yeah . . . I do.”

“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, and Fia looks at me over her shoulder.

“Nothing.” She twists her lips to the side. “It’s just, that’s one of my siblings’ favorite arguments to get me to sell the house. It’s too big for you and Daisy.” She rolls her eyes, but her gaze softens when it lands on me.

I shrug. “You’re looking at a guy who lives alone in five thousand square feet, so I can’t back them up there.”

Fia spins in the room, her eyes bright and wide. Daisy holds on to the strap of her mom’s dress, the giraffe’s left leg in her mouth. “No, seriously, this place is huge.” She stares at the wall of sliding doors. “You could open those all up and have a pool party. I’m sure you’ve had great parties here.”

Now it’s my time to snort. “You two are actually my first real guests.” I rest my arm on the back of the leather armchair beside me.

Fia scrunches her brows. “There is no way that’s true.”

I shrug, hand on the back of my neck. “I don’t really enjoy company.”

She studies me for a moment, shifting Daisy to her other side. “Maybe you just haven’t found company you enjoy yet.”

I bite my cheek.

Fia’s face flushes. “Well, your first dinner guest is a fussy toddler and her tired mom, so I’m sorry for that.”

I pull my brows taut—I hate that she thinks she’s bad company.

The timer goes off, and I wave. “One moment.” I step into the kitchen, pulling out the salmon.

Fia stands firmly planted on the living room rug, like she’s unsure what to do.

“You can set her down.” I nod at the expansive living room. “Promise there’s nothing in there she can destroy.”

Fia lets out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, now it’s super clear you’ve never been around kids.”

She sets Daisy down, and as I get the food set out, ready to serve, I keep stealing glances in their direction. She’s the one making me nervous, the way she’s watching her toddler like a hawk.

Daisy beelines for the coffee table, pulling the woven coasters out of their holder. They were twenty bucks, she can take them home for all I care, but Fia rushes over, kneeling on the rug in her short dress. It pulls up her long, creamy thighs.

“No, no, honey. That’s not a toy.” Her voice wavers, as she gently pries a coaster from Daisy’s mouth. Daisy reaches for the remote next.

I probably should’ve put things out of reach . . . but today is a first for many things. I’m just relieved I didn’t burn the fucking food.

“Please don’t worry about it, Fia,” I call out, but she stands up, flustered.

“Let me run and grab some of her toys.”

I hold up a hand. All I want to do is stop her spiral in its tracks.

Fia looks up at me, halfway to the back door with Daisy in tow, who lets out a tiny whimper, her bottom lip jutting out. Fia doesn’t look too far behind to be honest.

“I’ve got something . . .” I pull open a drawer, grab two shiny pots, and snatch a handful of wooden kitchen utensils. “My mom used to tease me, saying I preferred things from the kitchen over all the expensive toys I had as a kid.” I hold the pots and utensils up in the air. “Worth a shot.”

Fia’s isn’t sold, but she puts Daisy on the floor next to the kitchen table I’ve set, and I squat down to the toddler’s level, handing her my loot.

“Those look like expensive pots,” Fia mumbles, and I shrug. They are.

“You need to sit and eat dinner,” I rebut, and Fia eyes me pensively. “I can’t have my manager tired and hangry.”

She cracks a grin, her shoulders visibly lower as Daisy picks up the array of objects, enamored.

“Thank you,” she says, tucking a strand of long hair behind her ear.