"He works for Adrik and lives on the property," I tell her. "He's nice."
I don't know that for a fact, but if Adrik trusts him, I trust him. Or… I want to trust him, anyway. Transitive property or whatever.
"I told Travis it would just be me, Mama, and Daddy here," Isabella says with a frown.
My breath, my hands, my heart—it all catches at how casually she says "Daddy."
But Isabella keeps going like it’s nothing. "So I should introduce him to Sasha," she says, patting the dog's head. "Where is he?"
Adrik points down the hall. "The kitchen, I believe."
If he caught what Isabella said, he shows no sign of it.
"Okay." Isabella casually turns and zips towards the kitchen with an easy smile on her face.
Meanwhile, I'm still holding my breath. I can’t bring myself to look over at Adrik, but I also can’t stop wondering what he must be thinking.
Isabella called him Daddy. She’s never called anyone that.
When she was around three, she asked me if she had a daddy. I fumbled through an explanation, trying to make it clear that her not having a dad was no failing of hers.
“There is a man who helped me make you, but he doesn’t take care of you like a real daddy would,” I explained haltingly. “Because he isn’t very nice. So we don’t want him around here, anyway. Things are better with just the two of us.”
She accepted that just fine back then.
Apparently, not anymore.
I release a slow breath and turn to Adrik. He’s still lounging back on the sofa in the same position, his gaze turned to the hallway Isabella just went down. His expression is as maddeningly unreadable as ever.
Then, all at once, he grimaces and stands up. “Well, I have work to do. I trust you aren’t going to pack your stuff and flee into the woods. But if you do, mind the wolves.”
I glare at him, but he doesn’t notice. He’s already padding casually down the hallway and through a doorway. He closes it behind him.