his child. To hold her because he was sure she was scared—things kept changing for her, right? She was only six months old. She had to be scared.
That killed him inside.
Because he could have made that better.
Months ago.
Of course, he heard the officer’s warnings that there was still a possibility the baby girl wasn’t his as he stood from the chair and headed for the woman holding his child. He understood when they said a DNA test would have to be done, but the grandmother was clear that Dawn Marks had been adamant about the identity of the father.
Him.
She had eyes so blue. So blue he drowned in them. Because they were his.
His eyes.
Her stare matched his, and it was the first and most prominent thing in his mind as he reached to take her from the woman without even asking if he could. Frankly, he didn’t think he should have to ask—she was his. She belonged with him.
The social worker did hand Arely over. She kept hold of the pink and white checkered diaper bag that, thankfully, seemed quite full of ... things.
Holy shit.
What did babies even need? She probably wasn’t being breastfed, so what did he feed her?
All those worries drifted away when he had the baby girl in his arms, and his much larger form swallowed her whole. The room became less crowded and loud, and the beats of his own heart started to overtake that anxious rushing in his ears.
She stared up at him.
Pretty blue.
“Hey,” Lev whispered, all too aware of the people watching him but not caring at all what they saw. “Hey, baby girl. I’m your daddy—yeah, I am.”
“Well, we’ll have to—”
“It’ll only take a couple of days for the DNA test to come back,” the officer was quick to interject before the social worker could finish whatever she was going to say. “But we’re fairly certain and ... they do say girls take after their dads, don’t they?”
Lev didn’t know.
He didn’t know anything about babies.
But he knew this child was his.
“Arely Dawn,” he murmured, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her rosy, chubby cheek. It made her smile. He made her smile, and then she laughed, too. “Who’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world? It’s you, yes it is ... hey, my girl.”
Her little fingers wrapped tightly around his thumb, and she smiled even wider. He swore to fucking God his heart came right out of his chest and landed in her tiny, chubby hands. The pale yellow flowers on her long-sleeve shirt matched the color of the soft pants someone had dressed her in. And the flower on the headband keeping the dark curls out of her eyes.
Weren’t most babies bald?
Not his, apparently.
She had a whole crown of dark curls—the same as his, if he let the mess grow out. It looked so much cuter on her.
“Her foster family will be happy to have you visit up until the point when we can prove paternity as well as you can provide proof to show you’re capable of taking care of the baby. I’m sure we can speed up the process considering the circumstances and—”
All at once, Lev tightened his hold on Arely, turned his entire body away from the woman he’d just taken his child from, and made no effort to hide the venom in his voice when he said, “You’re not taking her from me. I just got her. She’s mine. Look at her. She’s my child.”
He’d already missed six whole months. He wouldn’t miss one more fucking day. That was a promise.
The social worker blinked, her helpless, silent stare passing between him, the baby in his arms, and the officers standing in a very quiet police station.
“She’s mine,” he said again, the words thicker in his throat because they had to understand. They just had to. “She belongs with me—whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. But can’t she stay with me now?”
He dared them to tell him no. Most of all, he wanted any of them to look at the baby in his arms now happily chewing on the string of the hoodie he had pulled on before leaving the apartment to be decent, and tell him she shouldn’t be with him.
Her father.
“Please,” he said quietly, “let her come home with me.”
He didn’t have the things she needed. He knew that. Couldn’t he figure it out? So, she needed a place to sleep. Okay, done. Somehow.
What did it matter?
She could sleep in his fucking arms,