Butterfly by Nelle L’Amour
CHAPTER 27
Roman
“Who’s this?” I growl. It’s definitely not the UPS delivery guy at the door.
A pint-size girl with two long dark braids wraps her tiny arms around Sofi. A thirty-something coffee-skinned woman dressed in business attire, who looks to be her mother, is standing beside her and holding a small pink tote with lots of things inside it. A large teddy bear hangs out from the top of it.
The little girl clings to Sofi, and I notice she’s got some stupid fashion doll in one hand. My muse looks up at me as if a kid landing on my steps is an everyday occurrence.
“Roman, this is Mari. Short for Mariposa. I met her at the wedding last night and offered to watch her while her mom’s at work.”
“Muchas gracias,”says the woman with a smile. “I cannot thank you enough. Mari is so happy to be here with you.”
Jesus.The last thing I need in my life is some kid wreaking havoc in my studio. And with my life. My blood is simmering. Why the hell didn’t Sofi tell me about her? And why didn’t I ever tell her: No kids allowed!?
Letting go of Sofi, the little girl gazes up at me with her big brown eyes, zeroing in on my eye patch. “Mister, are you a pirate?”
While her mother gasps with mortification, my blood goes from simmering to boiling. “No, I’m not a pirate.”
“Then, how come you wear a patch like the Pirates of the Caribbean?”
Her embarrassed mother chimes in. “Mí chiquita, sometimes people have to wear a patch because they have an eye infection or injury.”
“Do you have an eye boo-boo?”
“Yes,” I bite out, getting antsy.
“What happened?”
I stiffen. I try hard to suppress the memory of that fatal day. Twice in twenty-four hours is too much to take. Sofi glances at me, holding her breath in anticipation. I’m not ready to tell her and maybe I never will be. I swallow back the pain.
“I can’t remember.” I don’t want to remember, but that day will never go away.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“What about your other owie?” She points at my shiner. “Does that hurt?”
“Yeah, it does.” And I’m going to give you a matching one if you don’t shut up.
Sensing my growing irritation and unease, Sofi introduces me. “Honey, this is my boss, Roman.”
“Do you make lots of money like my mama’s boss?”
“Mari!” chides her mother before Sofi steps in.
“Roman is a fashion designer. He makes pretty clothes.”
Her eyes light up. “Cool!”
“He made that dress I was wearing last night.”
“Ooh! That was the prettiest dress ever.”
Nice. She’s just earned a brownie point, but that doesn’t mean I like her. Or want her here.
Excitedly, she shows me her bigheaded doll whose skin, hair, and eye color match hers. “This is my Bratz doll. Her name is Yasmin. Can you make her a pretty dress like the one you made for Sofi?”
Sofi answers for me. “Roman can make anything.”
Thank fuck, the kid’s mother spares me from replying and tells us a few things about her daughter’s interests and food preferences. I half-listen while Sofi absorbs every detail.
“Señorita Sofi, I packed a few things for my niña.” The woman hands her the overstuffed pink bag. “You have my number if you need to reach me. I will be back at six to pick her up.”
Six!Is she fucking kidding? I do a mental calculation. Christ. That’s seven long hours I’m going to have to put up with this kid.
Kill me now.