Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(32)

“I know, but I love him. I don’t feel right if he’s not next to me.”

“Then I guess he can stay. Love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Goodnight.” Leaving her door open the way she liked it, I went into Felicity’s room. Her nightlight glowed in the dark, and she was under the covers. “Tired?” I asked, sitting on the bed.

She yawned. “Yes.”

“Did you have a fun snow day?”

“Yes. I love Frannie. She’s so nice.”

“She is.” I thought of her hurt expression from earlier and my chest felt tight. What would happen if she decided she didn’t want to nanny for me anymore? Then the girls would lose her, and it would be my fault completely. God, I’d really fucked this up.

“She’s my favorite babysitter ever. She said she used to have nightmares too when she was my age.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And then someone told her how certain rocks can help you relax and sleep better. She even gave me one, see?” She brought her hand out from under the covers and opened her fist. On her palm lay a small, smooth stone.

I switched on the lamp on her nightstand and looked closer. It was a crystal of some sort, with streaks of purple and green and lavender running through it. The perfect gift for Felicity. “That was nice of her.”

She closed her fist and tucked her arm beneath the blankets again. “Can she sleep over again sometime?”

“Uh … we’ll see.” I switched off the lamp, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Night, Mavis.”

She giggled. “Night, Daddy.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Millie’s bedroom door was closed, and I knocked gently.

“Come in,” she said.

When I opened the door, I saw her reading in bed by the light of the lamp on her nightstand. I went in and sat by her feet. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She didn’t lift her eyes from her book.

“Everything okay?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” I took her paperback from her hands and closed it. “That’s not very convincing.”

“Dad, you lost my place,” she said, annoyed.

“I’ll find it again. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” She played with some loose threads on her quilt.

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugged. “I have a stomachache.”

Concerned, I set her book on her nightstand. “Your stomach hasn’t bothered you for months. Did something happen?”

“No.”

I didn’t believe her. Clearly there was an issue, but she wasn’t going to tell me what it was. For a moment I panicked that it was something related to puberty, and I got lightheaded and sweaty. What the hell was I going to do when all those changes set in? God, why couldn’t they stay young forever?

“Millie, do you …” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “Want the heating pad? Some Advil?”

“No. I’m fine, Dad.” She rolled away from me onto her side. “’Night.”

“’Night.” I leaned over, kissed her head, and switched off her lamp. Her hair smelled sweet, too, but not like baby shampoo. More fruity. Like women’s shampoo. Then I stood there a moment looking at her, wondering where the years had gone. It seemed like only yesterday that— “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you. Thinking that you’re growing up too fast.”

“Quit it. It’s weird.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I’m going now. You’re sure you don’t want the heating pad?”

“I’m sure. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” I reached her doorway and turned around. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

I felt a little better as I went downstairs, but not much. Millie’s stomachaches, like Felicity’s nightmares and Winifred’s monsters, had begun after their mother left and usually flared any time Carla said she was coming to visit, even though she rarely followed through.

In the kitchen, I went over to where Millie’s phone was plugged in, picked it up, and entered her passcode. She and I had an agreement—I allowed her to have a phone, and she allowed me access to it at any time to make sure she wasn’t on social media or texting with serial killers. Every now and then, I glanced at her messages, but mostly there were just long threads full of emojis between her and a few friends, and occasionally texts from her mother.

When I saw that Carla had been in touch today, Millie’s stomachache made sense.

Hello darling, I just wanted to tell you how excited I am to come see you! Remember not to say anything to your sisters so the visit can be a surprise! I’m only telling you because you sent me the note saying how much you miss me. It was so sweet of you to write me, but hearing that you are sad because of me made me feel sad too. I had a migraine for days afterward. I really wish I could be there for the mother daughter fashion show you mentioned, but that date isn’t good for me. But I will see you Friday and we’ll have such a good time!

I set the phone down, my blood boiling. I’d specifically asked Carla not to tell the kids about her visit, and she’d gone behind my back immediately and messaged Millie. And how fucking dare she make Millie feel guilty for telling her mother she misses her! Seething, I paced the kitchen. I wanted to punch something. Throw something. Destroy something. Opening the back door, I took a few gulps of icy air to calm myself down, but it barely had an effect. Then I came in the house and downed a shot of whiskey.