Page 101 of The Refiner

She loops her arms around my neck. “I don’t appreciate you making me fall in love with you, Dr. Potter.”

Without giving me a warning, she jumps, wrapping her legs around my waist. “But I’ll let you make it up to me with forever—and good dick during nap time.”

I chuckle. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” she praises, “because you no longer have a choice in the matter.”

Astor

Four years later…

“Me! I can do it!”

There’s a bow in Tatum’s hair the size of an airport.

I’ve gotten used to bows lying around the house, tucked in between the sofa cushions and in the sheets. They are no match to the amount of tweed bracelets I find on the counters, in the fridge, and in my underwear drawer. All I know is women (and little girls) shed accessories like they shed hair. And I don’t hate it one bit.

Holding the plastic crown out of her reach, I narrow my eyes at the cute, demanding little girl. “The crown and the bow won’t both fit on your head. You need to pick one.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

I should know that by now.

You don’t come between a woman and her prerogatives.

Her little hand goes to her hip, her eyes narrowing back at me. If Piper could see this kid, she’d laugh until she cried. Tatum Potter is an exact replica of Keagan. If I didn’t know she was mine, I would swear Keys had her created in a lab. “Mama says where d’ere is a will, d’ere’s a way.”

Mama is a pain in my ass.

“Yes.” I sigh. “Mama could probably make this work, but not Daddy.”

She jumps for the crown. “I can do it!”

Fine. Fuck it.

I hand her the crown and watch as the four-year-old shoves the toy crown in front of the UFO-sized hair bow. “D’ere, see? I told you.”

She did tell me.

However, she also looks like if the wind picks up, she’ll topple over, but I’m done arguing with her. If she wants the bow and the crown for this occasion, then she can have it. I’ve already spent an insane amount of time fussing over it.

“You look like a beautiful boho princess,” I tell her with a smile. I learned very early on that it wasn’t enough to be an ordinary princess; she and Mama had to be Boho Princesses. Because, clearly, those princesses are elite, even in the royal families.

“D’ank you. Now can we go in and see Mama?” Again, totally Keagan. She should be ashamed of the influence she has on this child.

“Of course.” I hold out my hand for her to take, but instead, she slips the gift bag off my wrist. “I hold dis.”

“What am I going to hold then?”

Tatum points to the cake box in my other hand, the bag from the candy store hanging off my other wrist. I’ve grown accustomed to carrying everything in one hand, so I can always have one hand holding a smaller hand that inevitably wiggles away at some point.

“Will you stay by my side?” I give her a look that says,I’m no fool, little girl. I will not have a repeat of the mall incident.“You’re not going to have an impromptu game of hide and seek, are you?” I nearly had a heart attack when she disappeared from my side and hid in the racks of clothes. I told Keys I didn’t care what themed-day the preschool was having, I refused to take this kid back to the mall by myself.

Those long dark eyelashes flutter up and down. “I’ll be good. Cross my heart.” If she wasn’t lying, the crossing her heart motion would be precious, but I know this game all too well. The McKellan women make you gullible with those lashes.

“You’d better. I’m counting on you to make this special for Mommy.” And I don’t mean by giving her a heart attack because I lost our daughter in an office building with twenty-five floors.

“I said, I promise.” She acts like I’m being the most ridiculous person in the city.

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