Page 161 of Flawed

"I want to take your mom out."

"I can stay home by myself. I'm almost fifteen," she claims.

I almost blurt out overnight but catch myself. Instead, I reveal, "I'm in a dangerous line of work. I've seen a lot of bad things happen. Can you humor me and stay there for the night?"

She wrinkles her nose, interrogating, "Is this so you can sleep with Mom?"

Hell yeah.

And wake up with her.

And then sleep with her some more.

I firmly answer, "Zara, can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure." She dips a roll into the soy sauce and pops it into her mouth.

While she's chewing, I confess, "You asked me if I wanted to win your mom over. Well, I'll be honest with you. I do. And I don't blame her if she never trusts me again. But we have a lot of issues to work through, and I can't concentrate on fixing those if I'm worried about you being home alone."

She swallows and asks, "Does winning my mom back mean you'd be together?"

I hold back from telling her the truth. "I can't answer that. All I'm looking for is to earn your mom's trust at this point."

She points out, "But you said you're in love with her. Is that true?"

"Yes. It is."

Her lips curl. "So if you win her over, would we both be able to move in with you?"

I chuckle inside. I should have known she'd put two and two together. Still, I don't want her pressuring her mom. If Chanel forgives and loves me, it must be her choice. So I reply, "In a perfect world, I'd love nothing more than that. But the world isn't perfect. So I'll reiterate that I'm looking to earn your mother's trust."

She smirks. "Plus, you want her to fall madly in love with you again."

I point to her food and order, "Eat your sushi," and shove a roll into my mouth.

She obeys, and we eat in silence for a while. Then she states, "Okay. I'll stay with my grandparents. Let me text to see if it's okay with them." She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sends them a message.

Her phone buzzes, and she reads the reply. She grins. "All set. You can put the moves on my mom."

"I'm not addressing that comment," I state.

She smirks again.

I reiterate, "And you're going to return to being nice to your mom, correct?"

She rolls her eyes and huffs. "Yes, Dad."

Dad.

Every time she says it, it feels surreal.

"Good girl," I praise.

Her eyes sparkle. She bites her lip and stares at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I question.

She hesitates then asks, "Can I see your birthmark?"

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