Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice 5)

Goddamn this fucking woman to hell for this shit.

15

“It seems to me, that love could be labeled poison,

And we’d drink it anyway.”

~Atticus

ETHAN

“This is my room?” Gigi gasped, jumping up and down even as she held my hand.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes!” she screamed. Letting me go and running toward the large, teal-blue, clam-shaped bed in the center of the room, where my desk once sat. It was covered in every stuffed animal of the sea, and she dove into it like she was actually going to swim. Laughing, she jumped up and down on the bed, holding the fin of one of the stuffed dolphins.

“Gigi be—”

“Thank you, Daddy!” She jumped and rushing to her, I caught her in my arms, holding her to my chest.

“Gigi, you could have gotten hurt.”

“Nope.” She giggled, grinning up at me. “Daddies have to catch you.”

I stared at her little face, the sparkle of complete innocence in both her brown and green eyes. I felt a tightness in my chest, but I just held her tighter. “Is that so? Who made that rule?”

She shrugged. “That’s just the rule.”

“Got it,” I replied, sitting down on the bed with her. “Are there any other rules daddies should know?”

“How to make chocolate waffles.” She broke out of my arms and jumped again but luckily slower and gentler to reach more of the stuffed animals.

“Well, I know how to make those.” Well, I remembered how they were made. “Waffles are your favorite, right?”

“Favori

te morning food. Then—”

“Meatballs!” I finished for her, and she grinned, nodding. “Mommy said you like the color blue the most?”

“No.” She frowned, shaking her head, which made her curls swing around her face.

I frowned, too. “Not blue?”

“I like the ocean color,” she told me.

“Isn’t that blue?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s sparkly blue. Sometimes it's pink and orange.” She hugged the walrus, now rocking back and forth.

So, she liked the reflection of light on—never mind that wasn’t the point, I thought before I got distracted.

“Did you have fun today with Nana?”

“Nana showed me pictures!” she explained, then pointed to her nose. “Daddy has my nose.”

Snickering, I flicked her nose. “No, you have my nose.”