Chapter 23: A Child in Our House
1001 Words
Bonny’s POV
The emergency placement papers took an hour.
Kristy slept through most of it with her head in my lap while I signed forms I barely understood and Adrian asked questions severe enough to make government staff suddenly efficient.
By the time we left, it was nearly midnight.
Adrian carried Kristy to the car.
She barely stirred, one arm around his neck, Buttons dangling from her hand.
I stopped walking for a second.
He looked absurdly natural holding a child.
Large hands.
Careful grip.
Protective posture.
As if he had always known how.
He noticed me staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That means something.”
“You look… different.”
He opened the rear door and settled Kristy into the seat gently.
“Sleep deprived?”
“Human,” I said before thinking.
His gaze met mine.
Then he shut the door.
“Concerning assessment.”
---
The drive home was quiet.
I sat in the back beside Kristy, one hand resting near her small shoe whenever the car turned.
Adrian checked the mirror more than necessary.
When we reached the penthouse, Mara opened the door in slippers and confusion.
Then she saw the child.
Then the rabbit.
Then my face.
Then Adrian’s.
She blinked twice.
“I see,” she said.
“You do not,” Adrian replied.
“True,” Mara said. “But I adapt quickly.”
Within ten minutes she had found spare blankets, warm milk, and somehow produced child-sized pajamas from nowhere.
I stared.
“Why do you own these?”
She looked offended.
“I manage emergencies.”
“This was unforeseeable.”
“To you.”
I was beginning to suspect Mara had once run governments.
---
We settled Kristy into the guest room beside mine.
She woke long enough to panic when she realized she wasn’t in the car.
“Bonny?”
“I’m here,” I said immediately.
She grabbed my hand.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m not going.”
Her eyes found Adrian standing in the doorway.
“Scary man too?”
He answered before I could.
“Yes.”
She nodded sleepily.
“Okay.”
Then fell back asleep.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop laughing.
Adrian looked mildly insulted.
“She likes you,” I whispered.
“She called me scary.”
“She trusts accuracy.”
---
At one in the morning, we stood in the hallway outside her room.
Exhausted.
Disoriented.
Unexpectedly united.
“This is temporary,” I said quietly.
“Yes.”
“But complicated.”
“Yes.”
“And we know nothing about caring for children.”
“I know several things.”
I turned.
“Such as?”
“They require food, consistency, boundaries, and sleep.”
“That sounded like a merger strategy.”
“Many systems overlap.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“She’s upset.”
“Yes.”
“She may wake crying.”
“Yes.”
“She may need me.”
A beat.
“She may need us.”
The word settled between us.
Us.
Dangerous little word.
I looked away first.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Good.”
I took three steps toward my room.
Then stopped.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then:
“For what?”
“For not treating tonight like inconvenience.”
His expression changed slightly.
Something gentler under the usual control.
“She isn’t an inconvenience.”
“No,” I said softly. “I meant me.”
The silence after that was sharp.
Then he crossed the distance between us.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Until he stood close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes.
“You need to stop saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“As if care for you requires justification.”
My throat tightened.
“It usually has.”
“Not here.”
Two words.
Clean.
Certain.
I had no defense ready I couldn't defend that at the moment.
Again.
He touched my cheek once with the back of his fingers.
Then stepped away.
“Sleep, Bonny.”
How was I supposed to do that now?
---
I woke at five-thirty to tiny footsteps.
Then a small body climbed directly into my bed.
I jerked awake.
Kristy stared at me solemnly.
“Your house is too tall.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Too many windows.”
Fair.
She burrowed under the blanket.
“Can I stay here?”
“Yes.”
She considered me.
“Do you love scary man?”
I nearly choked on oxygen.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The truth kind.”
Children were ruthless.
“I… care about him.”
She frowned and shook her little head.
“That’s grown-up lying.”
Before I could recover, there was a knock.
The door opened.
Naturally.
Adrian entered carrying two mugs and absolute audacity.
He stopped when he saw Kristy in my bed.
Then looked at me.
Then at Kristy again.
“Report.”
“She says your house is too tall,” I said.
Reasonable enough.
He handed me one mug.
Warm chocolate.
Not coffee.
For Kristy.
The man had adjusted beverage strategy before sunrise.
I was alarmingly impressed.
Kristy sat up.
“Do you love Bonny?”
I made a choking sound this time. That I wasn't ready to hear the answer for that question, I was actually scared to hear what his response would be.
Adrian remained still.
Then slowly looked at me.
The room went very quiet.
Even Kristy sensed it.
He answered without breaking eye contact.
“Yes.”
My heart forgot its function entirely.
Kristy nodded, satisfied.
“I knew it.”
Then she took the chocolate and drank happily while my entire internal structure collapsed.
I stared at Adrian.
He gave the smallest shrug.
“As requested,” he said.
“The truth kind.”
- Writer
