Page 15 of Hot Momosa

Dahlia

I’m not going to earn the mother of the year award any time soon.

Judging by the female police officer’s sour expression, she agreed.

Gunnar sat on the floor eating cookies and drinking bunny milk, strawberry-flavored sugar added to what would otherwise be a healthy drink. The bribe had worked. He’d stopped screaming for the nanny and I’d managed a few moments of peace to speak to two of New Orleans’ finest.

“You didn’t personally witness the reporters in the backyard?” The female officer’s frown deepened.

“No. As I was saying, my nanny saw them looking through the back window. The incident scared her to the point she resigned shortly after I came home.” I’d told them the same slightly twisted version of the truth twice before.

“I see.” The woman tapped the piece of paper with Christina’s contact information. “We’ll follow up with your nanny and take a look around outside. Otherwise, there isn’t anything we can do.”

I’d figured as much, but nodded and smiled just the same. “Thank you.”

“Ms. Calhoun, is there somewhere else you can stay until after the election?” The male officer seemed to have taken the good cop role—that or his crooked grin was a failed attempt at flirting. “For yours and your son’s safety.”

“I’ll give it some thought.” I stood, hoping to speed things along. My migraine lurked close waiting to attack. I needed to take care of Gunnar’s nighttime routine and crash before it struck.

They exchanged quick glances, pushed to their feet, and walked to the front door. The male turned and handed me a card. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Officer Stevens.” I pretended not to notice he’d written his personal number on the back and slid it into my pocket. “But I’m sure the reporters will ease off now that they know I’ve filed a police report.”

“Mamma!” Gunnar let out a screech that set my teeth on edge. “Bunny milk all gone!”

“If you’ll excuse me.” I forced a smile.

The female pursed her lips. “Have a good night, Miss Calhoun.”

“You, too.” I waited for them to walk outside, double locked the door, and hurried back into the kitchen.

Gunnar sat in a pink puddle. He held his chocolate-coated hands out to me and made a sound of complete exasperation. Oddly enough, I’d heard his father make the same noise earlier that day.

I couldn’t help but smile. Leo might have broken my heart, but he’d given me a precious gift. A wet, gooey, cookie-covered gift that I loved more than life itself. “How about a bath?”

Gunnar nodded. “I yucky.”

“Uh huh.” I took his hand, scooped up the mail from the kitchen counter, and headed for the bathroom.

Five minutes later, my little man was shampooed, scrubbed clean, and playing with his plastic boats. Rather than taking him out of the tub, I took advantage of his love of all things water.

Keeping an eye on the toddler, I sorted through the stack of mail. That’s when I saw it…a square white envelope with no postmark and an all too familiar handwriting scrawled across the front.

Another one?

I caught myself gripping my throat and lowered my hand. There was no way in hell I could open the letter with Gunnar in the room. The child was more in tune with my emotions than I was half the time. “Okay, buddy. Time to get out of the bath.”

His little body tensed as if preparing to throw a fit, but when he looked at me, he sighed. “Mamma sad?”

“Nope. Just tired. I’m ready for sleep.”

He scrunched his nose. “In my bed?”

“I don’t think we’ll both fit in your crib.” I set the letter aside and grabbed a towel.

He flashed me a grin that was one-hundred percent Marchionni. “I sleep in your bed.”

“Nope. You know the rules. Mommy’s room is okay for naps, but not overnights.” I might have plied him with sugar while the police had taken my statement, but there were certain rules I couldn’t break. Allowing Gunnar to sleep in my bed was one of them. It’d taken me months to break the habit. Unfortunately, I’d yet to get him to stop sucking his thumb, sleeping in a crib, or wearing diapers.

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