Page 74 of Born for Lace

"I wonder if you used to smile as a baby,” I say, my tongue getting the better of me. “Or if you— Maybe you just didn't like the way it felt… Or something.”

"I doubt I smiled as a baby."

A knot forms in my belly. Lagos is irrevocably sad. I want more than anything to hold baby Lagos and make him smile. “Buteverythingis wonderful when you're a baby,” I try.

"Not for everyone."

My throat thickens, forcing me to look at my little assassin. I sigh. "It will be for Spero.”

"Thanks to you."

“And you,” I add, but that makes his frown deepen. "I'm not lactating,” I admit as Spero starts to scream with hunger, fussing for the bottle. “What if we can't get him food, Lagos? I have to make this work. If he went hungry and was in pain. I couldn't bear it.”

"I won’t let that happen.”

I stare straight at him. “You're in this with me then? Protecting him? What has changed?" Whether it’s the hormones, my failed attempt at breastfeeding, or baby Lagos with no smile, I feel heat prickling the backs of my eyes now.

"You took a beating for the Shadow baby.” Lagos rises to his feet, rolling his shoulders like a beast after a long sleep. He approaches me. “That changed everything, little flower.”

A tear pinches the corner of my eye as I lay Spero on my lap and retrieve the bottle instead—defeated. He sucks on the bottle, eager. I failed.

Feeling Lagos’ warm, magnetic presence standing over me, I look up at him just as a single tear slides down my cheek. "Can you tell me one thing you like then?” I wipe at the insolent tear. “Just one?"

His dark eyes track my tear. "You."

I inhale hard, my lungs drawing in the word, wanting to hold it inside my chest and keep it forever.

He likes me.

The door pushes open, Lagos steps to block me, and I pull my sleeve up to hide my breast. Sniffling and wiping carelessly at my wet eyes, I look across to find Tomar is standing in the doorway.

He shifts his gaze between Lagos and me. “Why are you crying, Dahlia?”

“Knock,” is all Lagos says.

“Given I knew you were in here, I didn’t think that was necessary.” Tomar folds his arms over his chest. “My mistake?—"

“Yes, it was.” The possessiveness in Lagos’ tone stirs the air, brewing a storm that scares me.

This has to stop.

I breathe out in a rush. “It’s okay. I was trying to feed Spero. We didn’t know it was you.” I attempt to soften this entire situation, adjusting my clothing. Careful not to move too quickly and trouble my broken rib, I climb slowly to my feet.

There is something unspoken between them, making my chest squeeze and ache.

It’s my fault.

“I have food for you.” Tomar walks across the room, and Lagos disappears from it, fists tight by his sides. “Here you go.” The door closes, and I force myself to look at Tomar, not the door.

I’m handed a small bowl with what looks like potatoes and a few strips of meat. “It’s snake,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Snake?”

“Just pretend it’s fish.”

I cringe. “It’s fish.” A roll of nausea moves up my throat, so I swallow it down. Looking at the door, I find myself longing for Lagos. He might have lied to me and said it was fish, but Tomar is honest. I should want honesty, shouldn’t I?

Protection from unpleasant truths that won’t actually hurt me seem pathetically nice.

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