Page 90 of Chains of Recompense
“Of course,” my mom says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You just let us know if you need anything.”
They hand over Riley’s overnight bag, remind her to behave, to listen, to be good.
She nods enthusiastically and gives them both a kiss before nudging me with her heels like I’m a horse.
“Come on,” she says. “I want to see your castle.”
Laughing, I encourage her to wave until my parents’ car is out of sight, then I turn and carry her inside. “What would you like to see first?” I ask, setting her down once we reach the foyer.
“My room,” she says, bubbling over with excitement. “Do I get to sleep in the tower?”
“Not this time, bug. It’s not safe just yet, but you get to stay in the room right next to mine.”
That seems to be enough to appease her as I show her up the grand staircase.
She looks around, taking it all in with wide eyes and endless questions, her hand never leaving mine as we wander through halls that already feel less empty with her laughter echoing through them.
She chatters nonstop, about preschool, her teacher, a boy who pulled her pigtails, and how she got in trouble for pushing a little girl who was picking on her friend Astrid.
“That’s my girl,” I say proudly. She’s not even five yet, and already, Riley has that fiercely loyal Murray streak.
She beams.
We end up sprawled on the rug in the sitting room, building a lopsided tower out of decorative pillows while she narrates an elaborate story involving princesses, dragons, and a surprisingly aggressive goose.
I’m so wrapped up in her that I don’t hear Raf at first, not until Riley gasps dramatically and scrambles to her feet, eyes wide as she considers him.
He stands in the doorway, suit jacket discarded, the sleeves of his mint-green dress shirt rolled up, watching us with an expression I can’t quite name.
Something in my chest lurches, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Hey. You’re home early,” I observe.
“It was a good day,” he says. “So I figured I’d play hooky to come greet our new house guest.” He crouches down to Riley’s level. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Riley.”
She studies him with solemn curiosity, then nods. “You’re Sissy’s husband.”
His mouth twitches. “That’s right.”
She considers this, then reaches out and takes his hand without hesitation.
“You have big hands,” she informs him. “Are you strong?”
Raf blinks, then chuckles. “I suppose I am.”
“Good,” she says decisively. “You can help us build the castle.”
And just like that, he’s at the mercy of the spirited young girl.
He sits on the floor with us, following her instructions with exaggerated seriousness, letting her boss him around as if he doesn’t command entire armies with a glance.
He listens when she speaks, laughs when she jokes. And I watch it all like I’m witnessing something impossible.
He’s so natural with her, so… gentle.
The sight of it hits me like a freight train.
I’d never really considered whether Raf would make a good father before. I’d never had cause to. But now, it’s so glaringly obvious that it feels like the building blocks making up my construct of him are all coming tumbling down.
My chest tightens, emotion flooding me so fast, I have to look away.
