Page 52 of With a Cherry On Top

“We can’t talk about this stuff.”

She shrugs. “Ican. If you can’t, just listen.”

“I can’t listen either.”

She rolls her eyes. “All right then.” Tugging at my hand, she says, “No more talking.”

I tense, but she pulls gently, coaxing my arm to relax until she holds it in front of her on the table.

Her head tilts forward, her lips parting ever so slightly. A flicker of mischief lights up her eyes, and she takes my finger into her mouth.

Heat shoots through me, pooling low in my stomach as her plump lips wrap around my digit, a warm, wet slide that weakens my knees.

My world narrows to this single point of contact, to her mouth tightening around my knuckle before she slides back up with a languid pull, and a guttural sound rumbles in my throat, something between a groan and a plea.

She hums, her tongue flicking ever so slightly as she releases me. Still watching me, she lifts her hand to her mouth and, with a deliberate motion, removes my wedding band from between her lips. My breath catches as she holds it up for a moment, her gaze locked onto mine.

Did she suck it off my finger?

“Feels lighter, doesn’t it?” She slips it into the front pocket of my jeans, fingers tracing down my thigh. “Maybe you should leave it in the past.”

“Mommy says hi!”

The moment shatters like glass as Sadie bursts down the stairs, her little socked feet pattering against the hardwood floor as she practically throws herself into the living room.

Charlotte leans back, and I try to shake off the heat clinging to my skin, then turn to my daughter as she climbs onto the chair.

“No pepperoni?” I ask when she grabs a slice of cheese pizza from the open box.

She shrugs, taking a big bite. “Maybe later.”

Charlotte’s lips curl up, and it feels like my ring’s digging a hole in my pocket. There’s a part of me that’s still pretending this can stop. That ithas tostop. But, fuck me, it’s getting quieter by the second.

“Daddy!Daddy!”

The frantic cry jolts me awake, yanking me from the depths of sleep into a disorienting blur of darkness and Sadie’s trembling voice.

My heart pounds as my eyes snap open, zeroing in on her tear-streaked face beside me. Her hair is a tangle of curls, her chest rising and falling too fast, her wide eyes brimming with fear.

I push up on my elbow and croak, “What is it, baby?”

She hiccups as she wipes her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her pajama shirt. “There was a monster,” she sobs, her voice wobbly. “And it took Mom, and—and it was gonna take you next, and?—”

“Shh. Come here.”

I shift, making space for her in the bed, and the second I do, she scrambles up, burrowing into my side like she’s afraid something might snatch me away.

I pull the blanket over her, cocooning her in warmth. “It was just a dream, love,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. Her curls tickle my nose, smelling faintly of the strawberry-scented shampoo she insisted on picking out last week. “A nightmare. It’s not real.”

Her sobs shake her small frame, but as I rub soothing circles on her back, her fear starts to dull, and her fingers let go of my shirt. She sniffles, shifting just enough to peek up at me. Her lashes are clumped together with tears, her lips quivering as she hesitates. “Can we call Mom?”

I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. The numbers glow 3:58 a.m.

“No, baby,” I say gently. “She’s sleeping right now, and so should we. But she’ll call tomorrow night, just like she did today.”

Sadie doesn’t answer, the rise and fall of her body growing steadier. I almost drift off, thinking she’s asleep, when she says, “Mom doesn’t love me anymore.”

The exhaustion that had been dragging me under vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sharp, sinking weight in my chest.

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