Page 34 of The Rejected Wife

“I’m not a quitter; you know that, right? My boys in the Marines called me Major Rock, not because I had a hard head, though that, too. But I’m one hell of an obstinate mofo—” I wince. “Sorry, ignore the swearing.”

She blinks. “No.”

Yep, that’s the first word she learned. Right after Papa. It was like, one day she woke up and decided to start speaking.

“I'll take that as a yes.” I scoop up more of the food and offer it to her.

Serene firms her lips, shakes her head, and stares at me with her melting brown eyes. Her chestnut curls form a halo around her angelic face. There’s an adamant look in her eyes which I’m coming to recognize. Yeah, she’s a chip off the ol’ block, all right. She’s as headstrong as me.

It’s been six months since she came to me, and my life has changed beyond belief. Now, it revolves, not around me, but around the whims and fancies of another person. A tiny little child who has a mind of her own. First lesson of taking care of a kid? Don’t expect them to follow the routine you want to set for them. Second lesson? Forget that you ever had a life. Because now, they rule yours. And the third? Well, there’s no third because, by the time you learn the first two, you’re so starved for sleep, you can barely keep your eyes open during the day. I open my mouth and yawn widely.

My jaw cracks. My eyes water. Man, what I wouldn’t do for just an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Then I blink, for the little rascal in front of me opens her mouth. Wide. For a second, I don’t compute; then I realize, she’s imitating my yawn. Whatever works.

Before she can lock her lips together again, I spoon the food inside. She wipes the spoon clean, then holds the food in her mouth. I blow out a breath. “You’re supposed to chew it, sweetheart.”

She merely watches me with that unblinking gaze. The one I’m still not used to. The one which so often reminds me of Priscilla. I shake my head. I must be more sleep-deprived than I realized. Thoughts of her have been lurking at the back of my mind far too often, and for far too long. It's an effort to keep them at bay. But truth be told, taking care of Serene while trying to maintain my role as CEO has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. More challenging than any mission. While not being life and death, it feels like I still live life on tenterhooks. Wondering what surprise Serene is going to spring next on me. Life with a child…is definitely not boring, I’ll give you that.

“Chew, Poppet.” I mime the action, moving my jaws. But there’s no reaction from her. She’s clever, this one. She knows when I’m trying to get her to do something against her will.

“You’re done, huh?”

She chews. Once. I count that as a victory.

“Okay, then.” I eat the lone piece of cucumber clinging to the spoon. My stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten lunch or breakfast. Missed meals are a part of my new reality. Most meals consist of eating whatever Serene refuses. I’ve learned it’s best to eat when I get a chance. So, I scoop up the rest of the cheese from the plate and shove it into my mouth, then the vegetables. And the shredded chicken. She’s eaten some of each. That’s going to have to be enough for now. I place the spoon down and wipe her face with the wet wipe.

Then I scoop her up from the highchair. My phone buzzes, and I shift the munchkin to one arm to answer it. “Hello.”

“You sound breathless, Bro. Serene been giving you a hard time again?” Connor’s cheerful visage fills the screen.

“No need to sound so pleased…Bro,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Just calling it as I see it, and I’m entitled to make fun of your plight. Remember all the times you kicked my arse when we got into fights as boys? This is my revenge.”

“I could still kick your arse,” I promise him.

“Sounds to me like it’s my niece who’s kickingyourarse— Hey Serene, how are you doing?” He flashes her a big grin.

And my daughter smiles a big toothy grin at him. “Conn-o-r. Uncle Connnnooor,” she warbles.

“Hi honey. Hope you’re not behaving, and giving your ol’ man a lot of trouble.”

She giggles and nods.

Would you look at that? In front of Connor, she’s so well-behaved. All the tantrums and non-cooperative antics are, apparently, saved for me.

“That’s my girl,” Connor croons.

“Thanks for nothing,” I mutter, half amused, half pissed off. Children know how to present a different front to different people, huh?

“I’ve got to put her down for a nap before I jump on my conference call.”

“Yeah, I know, the busy life of a single dad. Also”—he pauses halfway through his sentence and looks at me closely—“you have something on your”—he gestures to his forehead.

I touch the place on my forehead, bring my fingers down, and stare at the brownish smudge. Then I smell my fingers—“Crap”—and rub it off on a wet wipe.

“Don’t swear in front of the little ears,” he admonishes me.

“No, I mean that was shit. From Serene’s nappy. I changed her earlier, and?—”

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