“Why?”
“You know why. The gun, Leith.” She saunters away, and my eyes squeeze shut.
“Bloodyfeck!” I mouth the words, pumping my fists around in a contained silence. I didna use half the brain cells I own earlier. I grip the gun in my hand, contemplating how I attempted to handle theshitethe MacKenzie way and not the Leith way. That was mymotherfeckin’problem. Not calculating my opponent’s move.
Opening a drawer in the island, I place the gun among the kitchen appliance junk, the auld hand-can opener, cheddar grate,shitelike that.
Mia stands in the pantry with the cereal container hugged to her chest, not a single crumb on her chubby caramel cheeks. Doe-eyes stare up at me. “Daddy, trouble?”
“Aye. Ye and me both, lassie.”
She nods, accepting this fate. “Help me, Daddy.”
Apparently, she wasn’t able to get into this new contraption of a thing her mam bought.
“Why not.” I open it, pour a bit of the colorful cereal into her cupped palms, then open my mouth like a dump truck. After eating some, I ask, “Mia, doye think this would taste good in a pint?”
“Oh, grown-up juice?” She stares at me like I’m the smartest lad on planet Earth.
“Aye. Grown-up juice.”
“Yeah. Very good, Daddy. Me have some too.”
“Nae.” I scoop her up into one arm and walk her back to bed. In my best Englishman voice, I say, “Nowaking Mum, Mia.No. No.”
“Aye, aye!” She giggles, objecting.
I toss her into the bed, and she bounces a few times before settling against the headboard. “Again?”
“Na—no!” Fine-tuning my dialect is a lot easier at work. Well, it was before theshitehit the fan. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Say yer prayers so that God won’t laugh ye outta heaven.”
“Mommy says, ‘God no laugh. God love.’”
“Say ‘em.”
She turns her tiny hand into a paw, beckoning me. “Be the leprechaun, Daddy!”
“Nae, and if yer nan hearsye saying it again, I’ll spank ye—with a belt.”
“Okay. Pirate Daddy!” She grips a stuffed animal in each hand, banging them together, making for a serious headache. “Pirate—”
Mouth pinched, one eye squinted, I cut off the pest. “Ye’re a wee scunner.”
“I am. I am a disgusted!” Mia dissolves into a fit of laughter.
Hand on one leg, I make exaggerated feeble movements. “Me, CaptainSkinnyMalinky Longlegs,” I say to a boisterous round of giggles while my knees find purchase on the carpet. After a few more minutes, we’ve prayed, and I head back to my room.
Inside, Chevelle isn’t crowding the middle of the bed, but her gorgeous round backside is. I slide beneath the sheets, pull my arm around her, but she feigns sleep. Her body melts better into mine when truly happy. Still, I pull my hen over to me anyway. I murmur into her ear, “Hen, I’d ratherfeckye happy, but I’llfeckye angry too.”
Chapter 19
Chevelle
Secretly,I pick fights with my husband. I analyze every variable to understand how my marriage is any different from my parents’ marriage. Dad made Momma so happy. I swear he had eyes just for her. The only time he touched her led to a warm embrace. His words were encouraging or uplifting. Following my thoughts of them earlier tonight, my brain is now picking us apart. When Leith climbs into bed and senses my anger, he won’t understand how it’s not directed at him.
While he’s in the dark about my cold emotions, I relish the firmness of his touch.
His breath skirts across my cheek. His lips are so close to my earlobe that my sex clenches when he speaks. “Hen, I’d ratherfeckye happy, but I’llfeckye angry too.”