Page 161 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“I know that, Storm. I don’t think you’ll hurt her. It’s just that I know my daughter, and?—”
I suck in a breath and look out the window, interrupting her.
Three weeks is no time, Storm.
I know this. I know that I’m likely being unfair, but I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt every time Shae cuts me out of the picture—even if it’s just with thoughtless words.
“I-I’m sorry.Ourdaughter. I’m sorry, Storm,” she says, placing her hand on my chest and leaning in close. I relax my jaw and count to three before looking back at Shae. Her genuine remorse is plain on her face.
“Already forgiven and forgotten, Sweetness,” I say, placing a kiss on the end of her nose. Shae examines me for a long moment before closing her eyes and kissing me again.
Tenderly.
“You’re right,” she murmurs against my lips. “You should take her somewhere.”
I twist my lips to the side, thinking, and suddenly very nervous.
“Do you have any suggestions?” I say, failing to come up with an activity that would be appealing to a young girl and relatively secluded.
“Something to make her feel special? She loves princesses andSofia the First. She’s also into all types of art, but not dead white guy art. Think more Banksy and less Caravaggio.”
“She’s an art theorist at seven?” I ask, not really surprised but…surprised.
Shae gives me a wry nod.
“Yep. I guess she got that side from you. I can’t draw a stick figure,” she says.
“I know,” I reply quickly, and Shae pats my shoulder teasingly. “Remember when you tried to sketch out the logo design for the BronzeLight Incubator project?”
She hums, squinting her eyes. “Oh, yeah! You know, you didn’t have to roast methatbad, Sandoval.”
I kiss her again, just because she’s there and just because I can.
“I wanted to hear you talk to me, even if you were mad about something,” I reply.
I take a deep breath, and Shae leans into me. When I don’t say anything else, she looks up at me and her expression shifts to concern.
“What is it?” she whispers, and the feeling of her soft hand on my cheek centers me.
“There are some complications around Lakeland.” Her face turns concerned. “He has a daughter.”
Shae pulls back.
“What?” She searches my face. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” I reply.
Shae’s brows come together.
“How old? Are you just finding out about this? What’s her name? Talk about coincidences.”
I give her a humorless, closed-lip grin.
“I’ve known about her forever, although I only met her once when she was a little kid,” I say. “Her name is Laura, and she just turned sixteen.”
Shae’s face still remains concerned, but it shifts to add something else: suspicion.
“What aren’t you telling me, Storm?”
