Stepbrother Thief(111)

“Because you were waiting for me?”

Gill pauses thoughtfully and crinkles his brows.

“No, not really. Mostly because she tried to file a complaint with the city about the length of my lawn.” A laugh bursts from my throat, echoing into the night air, chasing away the demons, the worries, the fears. For a moment there, I feel like everything really will be okay.

“Asshole,” I mumble, but I'm only half serious.

After the necessary ugliness of our conversation, dinner got better, good even. I actually felt like I was on a date and even now, with thoughts of Karl and diamonds and guns sitting heavy in the back of my mind, I'm actually … happy. Maybe I shouldn't be, but I can't help it.

Gill unlocks the front door and gestures for me to go ahead of him, casually scanning the street before he closes it behind us.

“Hey,” I say, giving Aveline a little wave that she returns without even looking up from her computer screen. My heels click across the floor as I make my way to the kitchen, finding Solène and Cliff up to their elbows in flour and sugar. My mind clears just a little bit more and I suddenly see things as they could be, as they will be if Gill and I can get past this one last obstacle. It's a bit of a doozy, but I have hope.

“Bonsoir, Maman,” Solène glances over her shoulder and grins at us. “Père.”

“Bonsoir,” I say with a smile, dropping Gill's hand and moving over to kiss either of my daughter's cheeks. Her smile is just as infectious, just as friendly and gracious, as it was when she thought I was her sister. So far, it doesn't feel like anything between us has changed. Maybe, in my own way, I was being a mother all along? I suppose it doesn't matter. I meant what I told Cliff: being a parent is a privilege and I'm still going to do my best to earn it. “What are you two up to?”

“Making lemon bars,” Solène states proudly, pressing the shortbread dough into the bottom of the pan. “Extra tart for Papa and his discerning taste buds.” Cliff laughs and shakes his head, sliding Gill and me a glance that says so many things without words. There's hope there, frustration, fear, disappointment, love—just this crazy mixture of feeling that's going to take a while to sort out. But that's okay. I'm in no rush.

“How was dinner?” he asks, giving me a kiss to either cheek. Gill and Cliff pause for a moment staring at one another before Cliff pats him roughly on one shoulder, turning back to Solène and her dessert prep.

“Good,” I say, glancing at Gill, at those blue eyes that always have and seemingly always will take my breath away. “We worked out a lot of things.” I keep my description vague. These problems that Gill and I are having, these demons from our past, none of them are Cliff's or Solène's issues to deal with. Cliff deserves a peaceful retirement and my daughter deserves a happy childhood.

I take a deep breath and set my purse down on the table, shrugging out of my coat and handing it to Gilleon. He takes it gingerly, our eyes catching, my breath hitching in my chest.

A groan from Solène draws my attention back to her workstation and a pair of raised black brows.

“You two are simply impossible,” she snorts, emphasizing the last word in French. “Like two lovebirds long separated, finally freed from their cages.”

“And what movie did you two watch tonight?” I ask as Cliff grins and opens up a new bag of sugar.

“Breakfast at Tiffany's,” he says, watching Gill watch Solène. I follow my stepfather's gaze and see Gilleon caught at the edge of the kitchen, his coat still on his shoulders, mine draped over his arm. He's watching our daughter intently, sadness and longing mixing with just the smallest sprinkle of hope.

“Of course,” I say with a small smile, moving next to Gill and taking my jacket back. “Because that's the logical choice for a nine year old's movie night.” I wink at Cliff and he grins right back at me. Gill's still staring at the two of them, at this odd example of domestic bliss taking place in his kitchen. Better get used to it because Cliff's obsessed with passing his foodie knowledge down to Solène. “Hey,” I say, snapping him out of it, drawing his attention back to me. I feel a hot flush as those sensuous lips curve into a smile. “Give me your coat.” I nod my head in Solène's direction as she washes her hands in the sink, balancing on a small stool that puts her close to Cliff's height. “Go mix some sugar and lemon juice. Doesn't sound like much, but it's actually kind of fun.”

Gill watches me this time, his gaze taking in every inch of my face, before he finally slips off his coat and suit jacket, removing his gun holsters and laying them on the table.