Page 70 of Extra Dirty

Pushing her buttons is literally my favorite thing.

As the doors open to the twelfth floor, I nod at people as I walk through the office. I’m met with smiles, raised eyebrows, and a quiet buzz that fills the office when the boss enters. I can guarantee that before I arrived, the place was loud. Now every employee here is busying themselves, pretending they’re in the middle of a project. “That’s right, friends, Daddy’s back,” I mutter to myself, unable to wipe the smile from my face.

I head straight to Cat’s office, wondering if she’ll be pissed or excited when I tell her the news. Probably a little of both.

She’ll think I’m micromanaging, that I don’t trust her as editor in chief. And I might tease her relentlessly, but I know without a doubt the magazine will be in the best hands with her at the helm. As soon as Cynthia gives me the okay, I’ll let her know the job is hers.

I’m temporarily distracted from my mission when Dex wraps his arms around Sophie and pulls her into an unoccupied office. I chuckle and turn back to Cat’s office. But instead of the woman I love, her desk chair is occupied by someone much smaller. I look down the hall, but when I don’t spot Cat, I peek into the office. Maybe she’s in the corner, out of sight.

“Oh, hi, are you looking for my mom?” the little girl asks.

She has long dark hair with bangs that cut straight across her forehead, rosy cheeks, a button nose, and a rounded chin which is tipped up as she sizes me up. She looks oddly familiar.

I take another step in and rub the back of my neck, unsure of what to say. I’m never really around kids. They’re definitely something I want with Cat one day, but I just…well, I don’t actually know how to talk to them.

“Um, I don’t think so.” I don’t know who her mom is, but I’m looking for the woman who normally occupies this office. Unless… “Did Cynthia promote her already?”

The little girl tilts her head to the side, as if she’s trying to figure me out. “Are you all right, mister?”

I nod. I think I am. But…something nags at the back of my mind. Why does she look familiar?

“What are you watching?” I ask absently, still trying to figure out what’s bothering me.

She studies me for another moment, her pale blue eyes serious in their inquisition. “America’s Next Top Model.”

I laugh. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that.”

“My Uncle Dex says that Tyra Banks is legendary. Personally, I prefer Heidi Klum.”

Uncle Dex? Who the hell is this kid?

“Do you have an opinion?” she asks, dropping a hand to her necklace and pulling the pendant from side to side. It takes me a minute to snap back to reality, and when I see the frown on her face, I feel like an ass for staring at her like a complete creep.

See? I knew I was bad with kids.

“I—uh—” I stammer.

Before I can form a coherent sentence, the sun catches on the yellow diamond pendent she’s playing with, sending rays of light scattering through the room and snaring my attention.

A lump lodges itself in my throat, but I manage to rasp out, “Where’d you get that?”

She lifts the pendant and smiles at the yellow diamond. The look on her face is nothing but pure joy. “Oh this? My mom. Well, actually my dad gave it to her, and she gave it to me because I never met him and she knew I’d want something from him.”

“Hey, Chlo, I got Twizzlers, but don’t tell your mom I let you have them before you had lunch.” Cat waltzes into the office without a care in the world, holding a small red package.

I swallow hard and look from her to the little girl, my mind going a million miles per minute. For a moment, I decide I’m nuts for thinking anything so crazy. Cat just referred to someone else as this little girl’s mom, didn’t she? But then Cat sees me, and her eyes go wide. And though we only just reconnected, I know her every expression. That look was not one of surprise. It’s outright fear.

She’s terrified that I know the truth.

She’s petrified that I just met our daughter.

I have no doubt that’s exactly what happened. That’s why this little girl—Chlo?—is so familiar. She looks just like Cat in the pictures I’ve seen at her grandfather’s house. They’re identical in every way but one. Her eyes. The girl sitting in Cat’s chair is studying me with piercing blue eyes, categorizing my every thought as if she can hear them, as if she’s putting the pieces together just as I am.

Cat shakes her head. It’s a slight movement, but I see the desperation. The pleading in her eyes. She’s silently begging me not to freak out, not to scream about how she’s hidden my daughter from me for thirteen fucking years.

I turn back to the little girl—my daughter—and I use every muscle in my face to force a smile. “I agree with you. Heidi Klum is much better than Tyra. I’ll let you get to your snack, though. It was nice meeting you…”

She smiles the most beautiful smile at me. “Chloe. Chloe Bouvier Caldwell,” she says, pulling her shoulders back and looking at Cat.Her mother.

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