21. Christopher #3
“I dumped some donor bags into your refrigerator. Tomorrow, the Lux should send the clone blood they promised you in exchange for inspecting the silos. So rest. Recover.”
“You’re the boss.”
She releases me and taps the transport crystal. “No, just a friend. Call me if you need help.” She disappears in an instant.
I make my way back to the living area. Zinnia’s bedroom door is shut, but I can hear Maria reading a storybook. I knock to let them know I’m coming in.
Maria cracks the door. “Zinnia is reading. I’m staying in her room.”
“That isn’t safe.”
“Better than sleeping with you,” she hisses, then turns on her heel.
I sigh. “Maria, wait. I know I lost my temper—”
She spins back around, joins me in the hallway, and closes the door. Her face is pinched with anger. “This is the second time in twenty-four hours you’ve lost your temper. We discussed it already. It can’t continue.”
Shit. She’s really furious.
“You told Zinnia she doesn’t belong here. How could you say that to a child?”
“I—”
“My husbands never yelled at her. Ever. They never said something so mean, never made her feel so hurt.” Maria’s eyes flood with unshed tears. “She thinks you hate her.”
I reach for her instinctively as her tears start, but she dodges me and wipes the tears with the back of her hand, then strides toward the kitchen.
Thank God I talked to Tig before this conversation. What other damage would I have done if I hadn’t? I follow her. “I don’t hate Zinnia. It’s the opposite. I…”
But the words freeze in my mouth. How do I justify my reaction based on the tangled knot of my own fears when all Maria’s ever known is fear for Zinnia’s survival?
“Yeah, right.” She grips the refrigerator handle and swings the door back so angrily the seal makes a loud pop. “You really know how to show your love. That little girl is in a world of hurt because of the words you hurled at her.”
Maria grabs two bags of donor blood, slams the refrigerator shut, and stomps to Zinnia’s bedroom without heating them, closing the door in my face.
Ah, fuck me.
I lean my forehead against the closed door. It’s been less than a week and already it’s obvious how unsuited I am for this. I’ve always known I’m not father material. But Maria and Zinnia are staying here, so I have to try.
Even as I think it, dawn rises. I can feel the connection between Maria and me change as she falls asleep suddenly. My awareness of our bond lightens. It’s more like a fragile thread rather than a secure wire.
But being older, I’m still awake and have barely enough time to apologize to Zinnia and try to make this right between us.
First, I grab the circus plate from the autocleaner and rush to prepare a light snack for her. Then I open her bedroom door as quietly as I can and lift her from the pillow. The warmth and the unique scent of a sleeping child envelops me. My heart opens a touch more for the kiddo.
Lying on the bed, Maria is a frozen beauty. Guilt grips me—she’s so angry she doesn’t want to sleep with me.
Zinnia wakes when I sit her on the chair at the dining table. As sleep falls away, anger surges into her gaze and her little hands clench. “I hate you.”
Okay, sparring with a child isn’t in my wheelhouse. All I can do is apologize and hope that’ll be enough. “I’m sorry I said words that hurt you. I didn’t mean it. You do belong here. I was afraid and hurt, but that doesn’t excuse what I said. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Why should she? Maria was right. I promised to do better, and less than twenty-four hours later I lost my temper again. So I can see why the kiddo is skeptical.
“That’s okay.” I kneel next to her. “I promise I’ll try to be a better Daddy Christopher from now on.”
The glare she gives me is worthy of an adult. She’s so much like her mother. No wonder I care for her.
“Mommy should give you a timeout.”
Too true. “She already is. Eat your snack, and then it’s bedtime.” I warm a blood bag for me and pour it into a glass. “What would you say to letting Mommy sleep in your room undisturbed?”
I can’t let the child sleep with Maria—if she startles awake and hurts her daughter, she’ll never forgive herself. She’s still a newbie vampire, and her instincts might overcome her willpower. I can’t take that risk.
Suspicion softens Zinnia’s glare. She picks up an apple slice and bites into it. “Do I get to sleep in your room?”
I know if I tell her to sleep alone on the couch tonight, she’ll think I’m punishing her. She’s more likely to ignore me and move back into her bed with Maria when I conk out for the day.
“Yes, you can sleep in my room.” I sip at my drink.
She looks down as she picks up another apple slice. “Where’d the plate come from?”
“We scavenged it tonight. Mommy thought you’d like the circus theme.”
She nods and keeps chewing.
By the time she finishes, I’m fighting to stay awake. The sun is almost over the eastern horizon, and it’s pulling me to slumber.
“Come on.” I hold out my hand, and she takes mine. “Promise me you’ll let Mommy sleep in. Don’t disturb her.”
Zinnia glances up. “Okay. But no more hurtful words.”
“No more. I promise.”
“Okay, Daddy Christopher.”
She crawls onto my bed and is asleep before I am.