Steal My Breath (Elixir 1)

Oh, God, what was I thinking wondering how smart four-year-olds are? Maybe they’re not all smart, but this one certainly is.

I smile. “Sorry, mate, but we have to do what Daddy says.” As much as I want to win him over, I’m not doing it by upsetting Luke.

He shrugs. “Maybe we could have extra ice cream later instead.”

Dear Lord.

Is this going to go on all night?

A girl’s only got so much willpower, and those puppy-dog eyes he’s using on me might just crush my strength.

I decide it might be best to ignore that for the moment. I jerk my chin at him. “Let’s get these clothes off you. And then we can talk about what games you play in the bath.”

His eyes light up at that. Stepping closer to me, he lifts his arms for me to take his shirt off. “Paris has ice cubes we play with. They’re in the freezer.”

I finish taking his clothes off. “That sounds like fun. Let’s go get them.”

The bath is slowly filling up, so I have plenty of time to grab the ice cubes. I have no clue why playing with them would be fun for a child, but then again, my parents were never about the fun.

A few moments later, I’ve located the cubes, and I realise why Sean loves this. They are coloured. I would totally have loved to play with coloured cubes that melt in the bath, too.

I pass the tray to him and let him carry it back to the bathroom. He guards it zealously as we walk, and I smile at his determination. I love how something so simple as coloured ice cubes are this important to him.

The bath has enough water in it when we return, so I turn the taps off and help him in. He immediately begins emptying the trays, and soon we have a bath full of colour. His excitement is contagious, and we spend the next ten minutes splashing around and laughing. There’s possibly a little too much water on the floor, but I was so caught up in playing that I didn’t notice it happening.

“Uh, oh,” he says as he eyes the floor. His gaze meets mine. “Daddy won’t be happy about that.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. Pressing my finger to my lips, I say, “Shhh, we’ll clean it up before he gets home.”

Oh, God, I am going to hell.

Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00.

Straight to hell for encouraging a child to withhold the truth from their parent.

His mouth curls up in a cheeky grin, and he nods. “Yeah.”

I spend the next ten minutes cleaning him and then drying and dressing him. When he stands in front of me in his bedroom all clean and happy, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

Maybe I can do this kid thing after all.

“Callie, I’m really hungry.”

I place my hand on his head and mess his hair a little. “Paris made you spaghetti. How good does that sound?” Before she left, she mentioned that he can be a little fussy with his food. She warned that I might struggle with dinner.

He scrunches his little face. “I don’t like sgetti.”

“Paris told me you love it.” A white lie never killed anyone, right?

He shakes his head with force, and his voice becomes whiny. “I don’t. I hate it.”

I stare down at him.

Would it be so bad if I had a quick vodka shot right about now?

“I’m going to get it ready and show you how yummy this spaghetti is. I think Paris cooked it differently to how she usually does.”

Two little white lies in the space of a minute.