Page 70 of The Prince of New York

“If making butter makes you happy, then I guess we shake jars until butter appears. But are you sure this is how this actually works?”

“It is. And wait until it starts solidifying but hasn’t turned to butter quite yet. I’m going to end up losing a jar to you, mark my words.”

“Are you really sure we need butter?” I asked, unable to keep the doubt out of my voice.

“I’m sure. Just trust me.”

“If someone tells me that butter wasn’t needed for the recipe, we’re taking this to the mud course,” I warned.

Vincent snickered. “Go ahead and try me at the mud course if you dare, Ian.”

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Cooking lessons three times a week with your children,” he offered.

“Should you beat me, I’ll send you and your family on a two week vacation, fully paid. I am not letting some chef beat me.”

“You are going to regret this, but I’ll be kind and give you the cooking lessons anyway.”

TWENTY

I wondered if she had suffered through a dream or a memory.

At a little aftertwo in the morning, a whimpering May crawled into bed with me. Fortunately for both of us, her weight hitting the foot of the bed woke me up, and I’d roused enough to comprehend I had a child crawling my way before reacting. A glance at the clock beside my bed confirmed the hour, and moving shadows in my room indicated RPS agents had handled guiding her my way. Aware she might react poorly, I freed an arm from my blanket and lifted it just in case she wanted to cuddle.

We were still uncertain what we could and couldn’t do, but much like her sister, May craved being held.

She flopped against my chest, buried her face against me, and cried.

I eased my arm around her, fought the urge to sigh, and kissed the top of her head. “Bad dream?”

With a bob of her head, she burrowed closer.

I wondered if she had suffered through a dream or a memory. In either case, I appreciated that she had come seeking me out, and that the RPS agents had been able to figure out what she needed. My past haunted me, and I remembered the many nights I’d been in her shoes, wishing I had someone I could hide with. Instead of crawling into my father’s bed for comfort, I’d hidden myself under the blankets and used my pillow to muffle the sound of my tears.

If the RPS agents heard, they would tell, and if they told, the cycle would continue, and I would pay for the transgression of being a child experiencing emotions.

I had no idea if May needed what I had, but it was the only thing I understood to do, so I gave her the hug I’d always been denied and said, “You can stay for as long as you need, and if you can’t go back to bed, we’ll sneak into the kitchen and have a snack.”

She stilled against me. “We can have a snack?”

Then, because we’d been feeding her soup and only soup, her stomach grumbled its discontent.

“That sounds like it’s snack time.” I lifted my arm, waited for her to move, and reached over to my nightstand to turn on the lamp. A pair of the new Hawaiian RPS agents, both women in formal suits, lurked in my doorway, and I ignored them, rolling out of bed and offering May the opportunity to be carried if she wished.

She did, and once I had her settled on my hip, I strolled towards the main room. “You may as well turn on all the lights. It’s snack time.”

Both women smiled and scurried off to do my bidding. One handled the lights, the other went into the hallway, lifting her hand to her ear, likely to inform the RPS I was on the move with a distressed child in my arms. I paused long enough to read the woman’s name tag, which informed me she was Barb. “Thank you, Barb. Empath?”

She nodded. “Danielle is also awake, but she is bouncing on her bed. Celeste is my partner, and Marjorie is with her, ready to catch her in case of an accident. We’ll work on late night bed bouncing later, but you’ll need to keep an agent in the room with her until she is over this phase.”

As far as phases went, bed bouncing would give me my first gray hairs, but I’d look the other way.

I wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week had I bounced on my bed as a child.

May stiffened against me. “We’re not supposed to bounce.”

I adjusted my hold on May, leaned, and kissed her forehead. “Your sister is okay to bounce on the bed with supervision for now. If you want to bounce on the bed, ask one of the nice agents if I’m not there. We don’t want either of you to get hurt, but you can bounce on the bed now and then. Once you’re a little older, we’ll have to relocate you to a trampoline, as it won’t be safe to bounce on the bed, but if you want to jump around, we can find a way for you to jump around. Are trampolines possible, Barb?”

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