Page 44 of Beauty and the Cop
"Where are you, baby girl?" I come to a dead stop in the doorway when I see our seven-year-old lurking in the shadows beside the living room window. Every so often, she peeks out, her blonde head swiveling like she's looking for something, and then she squeaks and dives back into the shadows.
I glance out through the window, trying to figure out what she's doing, when my eyes land on Felix, the little boy who lives across the street.
"Fuck my life," I whisper, my whole life flashing before my eyes.
I've been here before.
I've seen this before.
Hell, I'vedonethis before.
There's no way my sweet, innocent baby girl is stalking the neighbor boy.
Boys cannot be trusted. I know because I was one.
"Nina!"
She jumps to attention like I'm a drill sergeant, spinning to face me. "Hi, Daddy." She blinks wide, innocent green eyes at me. Eyes that are a littletooinnocent. She was definitely spying on Felix. "I wasn't doing nothing."
If ever I needed proof that she was, in fact, doing something, that right there is it. Nina always tells on herself. She can't help it. She's just like her mom.
"Uh-huh." I cross the living room, scowling through the window at Felix. He just waves at me, shooting me a toothy grin. I don't like him. We need to move. I yank the curtains closed. "No looking out the window, baby girl."
"What? Why?"
"Because…" I grasp for a reasonable explanation that doesn't involve birds, bees, and giving her father a heart attack. "Because too much sunlight is bad for your health."
"But Mama said—"
"Mama is an angel who can do no wrong, but trust me on this one, baby girl," I mutter, rubbing her head. "We need to keep these closed from now on. Go get ready for school." I pause. "Bring sunglasses."
She looks at me like I've lost it. Maybe I have. Maybe.
Why did we have a perfect little girl?
Eventually, she huffs and then runs off to her room, mumbling under her breath about the sun. I peel the curtains back, peeking out again.
Felix is still out there, kicking a rock down the sidewalk.
Fuck my life.
"Elsie!" I shout, stomping down the hall toward Lincoln's room.
"What's wrong?" she asks, peeking around the corner, our two-year-old on her hip, running a toy car up her arm like it's a racetrack. She isn't even fazed. She never is. My wife is the best mom. She's also as beautiful as ever. And, unfortunately, she gave all that sweetness and all that beauty to our daughter.
I'm in a hell of my own making.
"We have to move." I stalk toward her, my eyes narrowed. "And it's your fault."
Her lips curve into a sweet smile, her dimples popping out. "Oh, yeah? What'd your daughter do this time?"
"She's stalking Felix through the window."
My wife throws her head back, a loud peal of laughter burbling from her lips. And even though I'm stressed the fuck out, that sound softens me just like always.
Goddamn. I could die happy just listening to her laugh. After eight years, that hasn't changed. Actually, not much has changed. We've added onto the house and had babies, but I'm even more madly in love with her than ever. She's still the best part of my life, just like always. And every damn day, I thank God that she's mine, just like always.
"I'm serious," I grumble, pulling her into my arms. My lips brush her forehead before Lincoln bashes me in the chest with his car like he's telling me to back the fuck up off his mama. "We have to move."
