The man who was definitely not Mal, disguised or otherwise, put his hands up like I’d arrest him. “I haven’t seen my daughter in months. I swear I just wanted to see her. I wasn’t going to talk to her.”
“I, uh— I don’t know anything about that, sir. Sorry I scared you.” I retreated, clutching my thudding chest. “I thought you were someone else.”
The guy took the reprieve and jogged off. I watched him go, struggling to calm down and not to see Mal in the curious onlookers passing by.
“Belle,” Preston called. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I whispered.
He couldn’t have heard me, but thumping footfalls followed my answer. A hand laced through mine.
“Was it a parent?” he asked. “They hang around sometimes, but the kids are safe. Don’t worry.” Preston grunted as my grip turned strangling. “Belle?”
One tug and I fell onto him, sinking into a hug. I clung to Preston. My head tucked under his chin and my banging heart beat on his. Slow circles impressed on my back. He comforted me though he didn’t know why.
“Why do you have to marry Delilah?”
He stilled. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not, Preston. Tell me why.”
“I mean it’s legally complicated. I want to tell you, but I couldn’t do it here and you can’t repeat it to anyone. Does that sound like a mess you want to get into for a guy you want only for his body?”
“What if I want more than that?” I hugged him tighter. “Tell me what I’m up against, Preston.”
“Nothing for what if.” His voice was rough. Hard. “No maybes. No possiblys. Do you want more, Belle?”
“I—”
“Oooooh.”
My eyes snapped open.
“Preston has a giiiirrrrlfriend.”
Preston recovered fast. “Say it to my face, Nikki.”
She ran over, bold as ever, and Preston flashed out. “Tag, you’re it.”
Nikki beat it with her friends fleeing in every direction, leaving us alone.
“Yes,” I said clearly. “I want more.”
“Tonight. We’ll talk tonight.” Preston took hold of my hand, tugging me along. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour of the place.”
“Is that code for take me to a secret spot to make out?”
“There you go again. You are bad, siren girl. So, so bad.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
AFTER THE TOUR, WE ran around with the kids for another hour and tired them out. They broke to clean up and then we met up in the dining room for tacos. I heeded Delilah’s glare and sat between Zion and Mila. Better to find out just what I was up against before I took her on.
That was the plan anyway.
Delilah pulled up a chair at our table and shot daggers at me the whole way through. The good news was she didn’t attempt another food fight.
Near the end of the day, I ducked out while the children and volunteers were absorbed in a movie. Mrs. Desai stood near the back speaking with Mrs. Figg in low tones.
“Mrs. Desai?”
“Yes, Belle?”
“I know we’re heading out soon. I’m going to talk to Paris about giving a donation. If it takes a while, don’t leave without me.”
Her face lit up. “Of course we won’t, Belle. We can wait for as long as you need.”
I turned to go.
“Thank you.”
Tossing a smile over my shoulder, I said, “No one likes a penny-pinching, uncharitable asshole, right?”
“I said apathetic,” she returned, smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, but you wanted to say asshole.”
Her laugh trailed me out of the room.
I tracked down Paris at the front desk and she took me into the office. It was a clutter of papers, files, and picture frames piled on top of two desks and half of a couch. She motioned for me to sit on the free half.
“We accept checks or direct deposit. Whichever is easier for you.”
“I can do direct deposit.” I fished out my phone. “I’m just going to call my mom.”
“Sure.” Paris handed me a sheet of paper detailing the donation process. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
I called Mom and got her on the third ring.
“Hello, dear.” A bright, chipper voice came through the speaker. “Did you call to give us the good news?”
“Good news? No, I called because we’re volunteering at the Citrine Home for Children right now. I’m going to make a donation and you requested a heads-up when I spend more than ten grand at once.”
“Home for children? Send us the information, darling. We’ll make a donation as well.”
“I knew you would. The dame I know and love is still in there somewhere.”
“I don’t know why you call me the dame,” she said mostly to herself.