Page 48 of Heart Over Heels

He retreated to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and rummaged through its drawers. “I have some cold cuts?” he called over. “I could make sandwiches.”

The offer, plain as it was, hit me sideways, but I kept my tone light as I padded after him.

“Are you gonna feed me, Mercy?”

My clients wouldn’t dream of slapping turkey on white bread and calling it a meal. They were too far above such simple things, and they assumed I was the same. But sometimes I craved ordinary. Sometimes I was desperate for a chance to step off the stage for a while.

Mercer didn’t answer, still bent into the fridge, but as I drew nearer, my gaze snagged on something pinned to the otherwise spotless steel door. A photograph secured by a lone magnet.

A little girl with soft brown hair and Mercer’s eyes stared out at me. She was familiar. Not just because she looked so much like the man currently sharing air with me but because I’d seen her before. At Mammon’s Mile, in the comic book store.

My breath caught as the next wave of banter died on my tongue.

Mercer shut the fridge and turned with lunchmeat in hand. His expression sharpened when he caught mine. “Is something wrong?”

I pointed at the photo. “I’ve met her.”

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Mercer

It took a moment for Darby’s statement to register. Really, it was less his words and more the way he was looking at me that got my brain engaged. My gaze tracked back to the photo pinned on the fridge. Last year’s school picture.

“You mean Molly?”

He brightened, and his tail gave a swish. “Yeah! That’s what her mom said. Is she…?” He shifted, picking for words as he considered the photograph. “She looks like you.”

“You think?”

His head bobbed, white curls bouncing. “Definitely.”

I blinked at the picture again, at the tilted smile and dark eyes that mirrored mine more than I wanted to admit. “She’s my daughter.”

Darby’s cheer faded. He glanced around the house, searching for I wasn’t sure what until he replied in a rush, “You’re a father? That’s wonderful. I love kids. And you have a…” He cringed as he asked, “Wife?”

“Ex-wife.”

Relief flashed across his face. “Oh, that’swonderful,” he repeated. This time, he meant it.

I arched a brow, scolding what could have been a celebration of my misfortune. But it wasn’t. He was glad I was single, and that made me happier than it should have.

He huffed a laugh and cast his gaze aside. “No offense, but she was kind of a bitch.”

That didn’t surprise me. What surprised me was the way my chest ached thinking of Molly—knowing Darby met her and that she was close enough for such a chance encounter.

My stomach churned, and I had to swallow before I could ask, “But you… you saw Molly? Did she look okay? Was she happy?”

“Seemed like it. She was just bored waiting on her brother to pick a toy at the store.” He hesitated then asked carefully, “Is he yours too?”

“No.” I shook my head. “He’s her stepbrother.”

“Ah.”

The conversation had loosened a knot in me, and I began to fear it might unravel. It also raised questions I didn’t dare ask and thoughts I’d rather not entertain. So I turned away and busied myself at the counter.

I pulled a loaf from the breadbox then grabbed the knife. “You like lettuce, tomato, mayo?”