Page 81 of Savage Daddies
“Better double-check the staircase too,” whispers Wrangler.
“Didn’t Zoe say it’s the second floor to cross the drawbridge, anyway?”
“Drawbridge?”scoffs Wrangler. “We’re not in fuckingGame of Thrones.”
“Feels like it,” I say, climbing back up the stairs. “He’s like an aged Joffrey.”
We clear up more boot prints and make it onto the correct floor, where the mahogany door leading out onto the bridge has already been opened by Bully. Hopefully he’s already stashed away enough evidence for us to get the hell out of here. The giant clock on the wall reads 10 PM—we’re really pushing our luck here.
Wrangler slips through the door, and I’m about to close it when a child’s voice makes me jump out of my skin.
“Hello?”
I whip around.
Sammy stands in the middle of the corridor, holding a toy platypus by its beak. She’s too small for this place. The corridor alone threatens to drown her.
I lower my voice. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Who are you?” Her blue eyes flicker between us both.
And fuck, it melts my heart.
Wrangler turns to me with a knowing look.
“Your real father,”isn’t something I should be saying to an innocent three-year-old.
“Can you keep a secret, darling?” I hold out my hand.
To my surprise, she takes it. I wrap her tiny hand in mine.
“We’re your mom’s friends.”
Wrangler approaches.
“Only Grandpa comes over,” she says.
“I know.”
Her plump, infant features crunch my heart. She’s Zoe’s daughter alright—they share the same hair and nose. I might’ve only seen Felix a couple times on TV, and briefly the other day in Paul’s casino—back when he was alive to own it—but it’s enough to confirm my earlier suspicion. Felix and Sammy share none of the same chromosomes. Felix’s face is shaped sort of like a rhombus, and from the wrong angle it looks two-dimensional. Sammy would be an ugly baby if, biologically, she was his.
And that’s not to toot my own horn.
Could she be mine, or is that too much of a stretch?
Another guy could be Sammy’s father. Lots of people have blue eyes. One hundred and fifty million or so in the entire world.
Maybe it’s just that I want her to be mine.
I’ve always wanted to bring a child up in the world. Trudy and I spoke about it a few times, but it was always me that brought it up. Honestly, I don’t think she was done living her own life yet.
And turns out, neither was I.
But at thirty-six years old, I’m ready. These past few years have run away from me. I’m aging prematurely. A guy in his mid-thirties shouldn’t be full gray.
Yet here we are.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Why are you awake?” Wrangler dips his head so they’re the same height. “Can’t sleep?”
