Page 62 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

“Do you want to take a walk, boy? Might help your tummy.” I retrieve the walking harness that Daddy got for Sable. My kitty takes one look at it, hisses, and darts under the couch.

“I think that’s a no,” I tell Livvy, hanging the harness on the coat rack. I’ve tried putting it on Sable to wear around the house a few times. It’s gotten me the same reaction. Bren says he has separation anxiety and doesn’t like me leaving the house but hewon’t come with me. I just don’t think he’s a kitty who goes on walks.

Livvy waves her mittened fists at me noiselessly. I offer her a paci but she spits it out and watches me gravely.

“It’s like that today, is it, baby-boo?” I ask, shrugging into my coat. “Should we have a quiet day or would you like me to sing to you? I have to warn you that my voice isn’t nearly as good as Daddy’s.”

Big eyes from the silent baby.

I start humming the first song that comes to mind as I carry her stroller down the front steps and steer it onto the sidewalk. It’s “The Bare Necessities.” I don’t know why my mind’s picked that to be our theme song for today but I know all the words and sing softly as I wheel the stroller down East Second Street.

When I get to the corner and pause for the light, breaking into the chorus, I hear a little giggle from the stroller.

Grinning, I up the volume and ignore the strange looks I get from the pedestrians I pass. A gray-haired gentleman waiting for the light at the corner of Tompkins Square Park sings along with me for a moment. I smile and wave at him when I steer the stroller into the park and around the basketball court. I’ve noticed girls playing more and more recently and I want Livvy to see girls playing sports from an early age, so I stop for a minute and let her watch. I don’t think she can see details at that distance but her eyes do follow the play down the court, so maybe she can see movement or color or something.

Before we leave the park, I check to make sure Livvy’s fingers and toes are toasty and offer her a paci again, which she spits out.

“Is it the silent treatment today, Livvy?” I ask her. “Have I done so very wrong?”

She grins at me but still not a coo or a burble.

We head out again, into a wind that bites at my cheeks and carries the smell of snow over the city’s exhaust and concrete odors.

“Wouldn’t a white Christmas be cool for your first Christmas?” I ask the baby rhetorically, then break into “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” which wins me a tiny coo. Happy that I’ve snared the baby with Bing, I segue into “The Little Drummer Boy” as I turn the corner and see Bren’s sign in the distance. She had it repaired and repainted after it was smashed by the baddies who stole her design book and tried to shut her down. It proudly proclaims “Missing Ink” in neon to everyone who passes by.

There’s a small group of people waiting at the shop’s front door. It’s mixed adults and children, including two babies, which makes me smile. Livvy will have company. Master Mac’s daycare filled up shockingly quickly considering he didn’t advertise. Brenna’s tattooist enrolled her littlest and told her friends. Before Master Mac could blink, all eight places were filled and he had a double-digit waiting list.

When I join the group waiting at the door, Livvy lets out an ear-piercing wail.

I rush to soothe her. A woman pushes through the crowd and stands over the stroller. For a moment, I think she’s going to help me.

Then I look up into her cornflower blue eyes.

I stand up quickly and pull the stroller back two steps. Livvy screams.

“Miranda.”

Her eyes are fixed on the wailing baby. “She needs me.”

I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t. She’s fine.”

Miranda clutches her leather-gloved hands to her chest, rubbing. “She needs her mother to nurse her. Don’t keep me from my baby.”

Her words ripple through the crowd and a lot of eyes turn toward us. They’re not friendly eyes.

I have five panic buttons within reach, because Daddy is who he is. And I’ll be getting a text any second asking if I’m okay because of the heart rate monitor. If I summon him, he’d be here in ten minutes. Or less, knowing Daddy. Brenna’s just on the other side of the shop door and Master Mac’s upstairs. Help’s in easy reach.

But I don’t need their help. I take out Livvy’s paci and give it to her. Thank goodness she accepts it this time and sucks on it tearfully. I straighten my spine, keeping my hand on the stroller handle, positioning my body between Miranda and the baby.

“Logan told you to stay away, Miranda,” I say. “He has full custody and he doesn’t want you near Livvy.”

She blinks those big blue eyes and tears roll down her cheeks. “Emily, you’re a woman. You know he’s being a monster. I’m her mother. Please, let me hold her. Let me nurse her. I’m in so much pain without her.”

I swallow hard, because it does feel a little cruel to block Miranda completely from Livvy’s life. But that’s the rule and I obey Daddy’s rules.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. No. Daddy told you no. I’m telling you no. You’re not allowed near Livvy or me. You should leave.”

It’s only after the words are out of my mouth that I realize I’ve called Logan “Daddy” in public. In front of a group of people entrusting their children to Daddy’s friend. But I don’t try to take it back. Logan is my Daddy. I won’t let Miranda kink-shame me.

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