“I think you’ve been doing a great job with the resources you have available,” he offered.
She gave him a small smile. “I must look like a complete mess to you. It took you all of five minutes to figure out she had a fever; meanwhile, I spent all day with her, clueless. I felt her tossing and turning next to me all night last night, so I knew she didn’t sleep well. And when Shea is tired, the meltdowns begin. So I kept her home from school and tried to keep her distracted all day, but it was like walking around on eggshells.”
“Sounds smart to me,” Kieran offered.
Fiona just sighed. “Maybe, but no matter what I did all day, she wasn’t happy—which isn’t all that unusual, I guess. But when she also refused to eat, even though I made every possible thing I could think of that she likes, I started getting really worried. I guess it makes sense now if she wasn’t feeling well.” She sniffed, wiping her brimming eyes with the tips of her fingers. “I should have caught that, I should have.”
“It was just a lucky guess, Fi. And I might not even have thought about it if you hadn’t told me she was sick. I was here one time, but you’re here every day, all day. It might feel to you like you don’t know what you’re doing, but anyone who sees you with Shea would say differently.” He squeezed her shoulders gently, closing the gap between them on the couch again, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Do you have anyone who can help you? Like a therapist for Shea, if she needs that?”
She shook her head. “Not really. The public school she goes to works hard with her when they can, but they just don’t have the resources she needs. There’s a school just outside of Woodlawn for special needs that has wonderful programs, but it’s a private school. I can’t afford the tuition, and it’s pretty exclusive, so I haven’t even been able to land an interview.”
Kieran frowned. “So she’s never had any help?”
“Our mother took her to an occupational therapist for a while, plus several other types of therapists when she was younger. My mom worked three waitressing jobs to pay for it, and when she died, there was nothing left,” Fiona explained.
His heart ached as he thought of all she’d been through. “What about your dad?”
“We’ve never known him, not really. He left when I was a baby, only came back for a few days here and there. Shea came about from one of those visits, but after she was born, he stopped visiting entirely. My mother remarried eventually, but he wasn’t a nice man.” Fiona leaned into the couch, resting her head on his arm, which was stretched along the back cushions. She looked exhausted, and Kieran felt guilty for questioning her. “When my mother died, I worked so hard to keep Shea with me. I was barely twenty-one, and after arduous evaluations and court dates, they finally gave me full custody, but Child Services kept checking in on me. The constant threat that they’d take her…it was almost too much. They didn’t trust I could take care of her on my own, and I worked so hard to prove them wrong.” Fiona sighed heavily. “But maybe they were right.”
“You’ve been through so much, and yet here you are—in your own apartment, the sole guardian of a sweet eight-year-old, and a business owner. I think you’ve more than proved them wrong.” She might have been impressed with his college degree, but what had he ever done with it? Fiona had made things happen for herself, without the resources he was so lucky to have behind him. Everything about her drive and determination fascinated him. “You’re absolutely amazing, flower girl.”
She blushed and bit her bottom lip again, and he found himself leaning into her. If he was any closer, he wouldn’t be able to refrain from tasting her. And damn, how he wanted to taste her.
“You really think so, don’t you?” she asked, almost incredulous, as if she couldn’t understand why.
He squeezed her knee lightly, holding on a little longer than he needed to. “There isn’t the tiniest sliver of doubt in my mind, Fi.”
“I like when you call me Fi. People used to call me that a long time ago. It reminds me of when things were easier and happier.”
He slid his finger softly down her cheek, tracing her jawline. “I like when you’re happy.”
Without warning, Fiona clutched the front of his shirt in her small hands and climbed onto his lap, her face hovering close to his. She invaded his every sense as her light blue eyes became all he could see; her light floral scent tickled his nose, and her shallow breathing was all he heard. And then he was tasting her.