Page 33 of The Wrong One

“Did you brush your teeth?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she answered. “Are you going to read me a book?”

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” I asked.

“I read every night,” she said.

“I’ll read you a book,” I replied. “A short one.”

“You can just read me a couple chapters,” she said as if she was granting me some big wish.

“You’re reading a chapter book?”

She nodded as she brushed her teeth. I saw the book sitting on her nightstand and picked it up. It was a book about a princess, which didn’t surprise me. She was all about princesses and unicorns. I liked being able to spoil her with the things she liked, and judging by the room, so did Ramsey. Her bed was one of those canopy beds with gauzy pink curtains.

She walked to her bed and climbed in. I stretched out beside her and opened the book to where she had a page bookmarked. She leaned in close while I started to read. As I read, I thought about how most people saw me and made a lot of assumptions about who I was. If they could see me sitting in a frilly pink room reading a book about a princess, they wouldn’t believe it.

Lily was my pride and joy—even if she wasn’t mine. I was there the day she was born and the day her mother abandoned her and Ramsey. I remembered crashing on the couch some nights when she was sick as a baby because Ramsey needed help. I helped pick out her clothes when she was little and was there on her first day of school. I would die for her.

One day, I hoped I would have my own little girl to take care of, but if it never happened, I had Lily. She might be my only chance to raise a child. I wasn’t going to squander a moment of it. “Okay,” I said. “That’s three chapters.”

“Thank you.”

I climbed off her bed and put her book away before tucking her in nice and tight. “Uncle Cam, I can’t move.” She giggled.

“Snug as a bug,” I said.

“I’m not a baby,” she replied. “I don’t need to be rolled up like a burrito.”

“But you make such a cute burrito.” I laughed.

She groaned and wiggled until she freed her arms. “Finally.”

“Goodnight,” I said.

I left her room and went back downstairs. Ramsey was sitting on the couch with his laptop open. “She crash?” he asked.

“She’s pretty tired,” I answered. “She’s reading chapter books?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “I just ordered her a bunch from Amazon. If I can keep her reading, I’m going to do it. I want her to read a hundred books.”

I moved to sit down in my chair again. I heard the vibrating sound and looked around for my phone, assuming it was mine. Ramsey reached for his phone and looked at the screen. He scowled, his lip curling up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“That son of a bitch,” he growled.

“Who?”

“That asshole,” he said. “Patrick.”

“Izzy’s Patrick?” I asked with confusion.

“Yes.” He nodded. “He wants to know where Izzy is.”

“Why?” I asked. “What the hell does he care?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head and dropped the phone back to the couch.

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