“No. But I’ll be out for a few hours.”
“Oh.” I wanted to ask where he was going, but I kept the question on my tongue since it was none of my business. If I asked, that was probably exactly what he would say. It would be the only time he’d left the house for a reason other than work, so it must be a social reason, but he didn’t seem like a fan of socialization. I’d probably never know.
He got out of bed, standing there like a Greek god with that tight ass. He was muscled and chiseled, a gun without bullets. A black shirt was pulled over his head and then a long-sleeved flannel.
I watched him from bed, too comfortable to move, enjoying the view far too much.
Once he was fully clothed, he walked out without looking back.
And just like that, I felt it.
I felt the cold.
“I want a sundae—”
“She’ll take a single scoop.” Benton looked down at her, his eyes narrowed in authority.
Claire turned to me and rolled her eyes.
I suppressed the chuckle as best I could.
“And that’s not how you order,” Benton said, pretending not to see what she just did. “Try again.”
The young woman stood behind the counter and stared at Benton just the way I did, as if she couldn’t believe a man like that existed.
Claire sighed. “May I please have a sundae—”
“One scoop of gelato in a cone.”
Claire rolled her eyes—again.
This time, I brushed my hand over my lips because it was all I could do not to laugh.
The woman smiled. “You got it. What flavor?”
“Strawberry,” Claire said.
Benton gave her a glare.
“Please,” Claire said quickly.
We finished our order then took our ice cream to a table near the window. We all had the same thing, a single scoop on cones. Benton sat beside his daughter and spun the cone in his hand, dragging his tongue across the surface of the scoop. He would catch the cream on his tongue then swallow.
Damn.
His eyes caught mine when he felt my stare.
I quickly looked out the window.
“What kind did you get?” Claire asked with her soft little voice.
“Sweet cream.”
Claire looked up at her father, strawberry ice cream all over her face. “Daddy?”
“Chocolate.” He grabbed a napkin and wiped up her face. “And you’re making a mess, sweetheart.”
She shrugged and kept eating.
It was hard to believe this was my life now, in a beautiful apartment in Paris, living with a man and his daughter. Everything before the cult felt like a blur now. That life didn’t seem real anymore. If I put on my ballet slippers, I probably wouldn’t even know how to dance anymore. It was no longer my identity.
Whenever I looked out the window, I just enjoyed the view. I didn’t search the streets for the skulls, for the cruel smile that haunted my dreams. As long as Benton was there, I was untouchable. He made me untouchable in other ways, too—from the cold, from the loneliness, the despair.
We walked back to the apartment as the sun started to set. It was a rare sunny day, and that made it even colder than usual. My breath escaped as vapor as I dug my hands into the pockets of my jacket.
Benton seemed immune to it.
When we made it back home, Claire got to work on her homework, and I sat with her and helped.
“Are you excited for Christmas?”
She nodded. “Christmas is my favorite holiday.”
“Yeah, mine too.” I looked at the tree near the fireplace, covered in lights and ornaments, a beacon of hope in these dark times. It filled the room with more warmth than the hearth.
“I wonder if my mom will come back for a visit.” Her eyes were down on her worksheet, pushing the pencil into the paper as she did her basic arithmetic.
Helpless, I just watched her, a brand-new crack forming in my heart.
Four
Benton
The doorbell rang.
Claire was at the dining table working on her homework with Constance, and her concentration was immediately shattered when she heard the sound. “Who’s that?”
I disappeared down the hallway and opened the door to see my brother on the other side. “Thought we were meeting there.”
“And miss seeing my niece?” He stepped around me and entered the house without invitation.
The two of us returned to the main room, and my brother’s eyes filled with warmth when he saw Claire sitting there. “Where’s my favorite niece?” He was cold and callous like I was, but he turned soft for Claire. Something else we had in common.
Claire left her chair and ran into his arms. “I’m your only niece, Uncle Bleu!”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He hugged her into his chest and squeezed her tight. “You’re so smart.”
She hung on to his neck. “I know.”
The chuckle that escaped my throat was instantaneous.
Bleu laughed too. “She really is your daughter, isn’t she?”
“Damn right.”
“Ooh.” Claire pulled back and looked at me. “Daddy cussed…”