Page 132 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

“I have?”

“Mmm-hmm. I’ll tell you why later. Relax with your friends.”

Despite today’s horrors, she smiles at me and returns to the subbie pile.

Livvy fusses when I take her upstairs and lay her down in her cot, probably stimulated by the attention. Even a week ago, I’d have panicked at hearing her little cries. But I’ve seen Emily deal with this. I give Livvy a pacifier, settle my hand on her tummy in case she’s having trouble digesting her bottle, and sing to her.

Before I’ve finished Lennon’s “Imagine,” she’s still and silent, sucking gently on the pacifier. I brush a kiss across her forehead and turn off everything but the adorable turtle night light as I leave my daughter to sleep.

thirty-seven

EMILY

I love subbie sleepovers,even if the reason for this one is awful. I love them even more when Daddy lets me fall asleep in the subbie pile but then carries me upstairs to our big bed. As good as sleepovers are, sleeping with Daddy is always better. He seems to understand that I’m too sad for Os and just cuddles me all night.

When I wake up in the morning, Daddy’s still asleep beside me, even though it’s well past the time he usually gets up. I think yesterday was a lot for him, too.

I ease my way out of bed and use the bathroom quickly because it will be in demand today with so many people in the house, even if Warrin, Bravo, and Sean took their subbies home last night and Jiro and Laurel went back to their hotel. A hotel that should become Miranda-free today. And, yes, I intend to call to make sure. Just because I don’t plan to add to the woman’s misery by pushing for her prosecution, doesn’t mean I’m not going to ensure she leaves the country. The Mir-beast needs to go.

I check on Livvy, who is awake and kicking happily in her sleeping sack but not crying. The floor around her crib is littered with Little Larrys, including one that she somehow managed to pull or kick off the bar of sensory toys over the crib.

“Has someone been caber tossing this morning, Livvy-bit? What a strong girl!”

I gather up the stuffed dinosaurs and baby. A quick change of diaper and onesie and she’s ready for breakfast. According to her schedule, she’s with Master Mac today but I don’t know if Daddy will want to keep to the schedule with everything that’s going on.

“We’ll just be flexible today, won’t we, baby?” I tell her as I take her downstairs. I hear footsteps and water running upstairs, so Mac or Bren or both are up. The great room is dark and quiet and someone’s drawn the heavy curtain we rarely use between the living room area and the kitchen/dining room area. I duck through the curtain and find Mr. De Leon sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.

Daddy definitely did not give Mr. De Leon access to the house but it probably shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here.

“Good morning, Mr. De Leon.”

“Good morning, Emily. I made some scrambled eggs and coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, sir, I don’t mind.” Daddy may but I don’t. People who feed themselves without making a mess in my kitchen are my favorite kind of guest. I can’t see so much as a dirty fork as I move around the island and take out packs of frozen breakfast links to defrost.

“I hear water running. Is your daddy up?”

I shake my head. “Yesterday was a tough day. He’s having a lie-in.”

Mr. De Leon turns his coffee cup around in his hands. “Yes, it was.”

I saw him with Fleur at our Halloween-Eve-Eve party. They were cuddling during the ghost stories. Does he have feelings for her? Or is it just that he’s been spending a lot of time with Cappa, and Cappa and Fleur are close?

Those aren’t questions I’m going to ask today. They’re not important in the face of what’s happened.

“Have you seen Fleur?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “She’s not conscious yet so they’re only allowing her designated medical contact in. But Jack assisted with her surgery last night and I was able to talk to him when I got back into the country.”

Was he out of the country? I thought Cappa was staying at his house?

“She had another surgery?” I ask hesitantly as I prepare Livvy’s bottle.

Mr. De Leon nods. “The bone around her left eye was broken. The surgeon in New Jersey set it but the surgeon at Presbyterian was concerned about something called recession, so they did another surgery last night.”

“Daddy didn’t let me hear about her injuries yesterday. Are they very bad?”

Mr. De Leon tips his head from side to side but doesn’t look up from his coffee cup. “I’ve seen worse.”

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