CHARLOTTE

“Why can’t I wear my shitkickers?” Shiloh cried from her position on the floor.

We were only half an hour from curtain call, and I still hadn’t done my makeup for my solo piece as the sugar plum fairy. Alexander had been sweet about the whole mix up at the compound when he came to rehearse that day, so he was helping out with the music and getting the stage ready with all the props. And I could really do with the help. Deck left me with the prospects for half the day, but they had to take off a few hours ago, leaving just Dundee with us for protection and help. The other two had to go back to the compound to help the guys with the rogue soldier problem, promising that all of them would be back in plenty of time for the performance.

And now Shiloh was having a tantrum of sorts over her beloved black boots.

In all the time I had known Shiloh Johnston, she had worn the chunky, black boots everywhere. They were a constant on her little body along with her tutus and camo tights. And of course, I couldn’t forget her recent accessory, the gun holster.

Thank you, Darth.

Getting her to take them off and trade them for a pair of ballet slippers was a no-go. So I’d given up after a while. She loved to dance in them, and I was happy that she was happy.

Tonight, however, she needed to be in uniform with the other little girls. They were dancing Swan Lake, the Dance of the Four Little Swans. Well, a watered-down version of it, at least. And this time, I had a plan. It took me four hours, but I went out and found a pink pair of shitkickers. Shiny, pink patent leather with a white sole.

I had been ecstatically happy when I found them, I’d literally wept in the store.

Then the four little girls, my little badarse included, had also insisted on a costume colour change. They didn’t want to be white swans. They wanted to be pink swans, so that meant a two-hour drive to the closest ballet costume shop to rent four pink swan outfits. I swore after the recital was over, I was going to ban further dance recitals forever.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took several deep breathes.

“Yes, you can wear your shitkickers, baby girl. But tonight, I want you to wear special ones.” I took the boots from the bag and placed them on the floor next to Shiloh. Pink was Shiloh’s favourite colour, and shitkickers were her favourite footwear, so combining the two had win written all over it. Or at least, I hoped it did. Hunkering down next to her, I waited for her reaction.

“Oh, my effing God!” her tiny, cute pixie voice shrieked at the sight of the special pink shoes. Her smile was radiant. Looking at me, Shiloh launched her little tutu-clad body at me, not giving me time to brace myself, so I grabbed hold of her as we both fell backwards.

“Oh, Char-char, dese are the prettiest shitkickers ever. Fank you, fank you, fank you,” Shiloh cried as she peppered my face with sloppy kisses.

Oh, thank the Lord.

“I love you, Char-char,” Shiloh whispered against my cheek.

“I love you, too, Miss Shiloh. Now let’s get up off the floor. I need to put on my makeup and become a sugar plum fairy,” I said giving her a sloppy kiss in return. I loved hearing her tell me that. I wanted to tell her it was a requirement that she said it at least ten times a day, and knowing Shiloh, she would, along with a running commentary of the count. So, I kept that to myself and just savoured when she said it once or twice a day.

“Need some help getting up?” Deck’s amused voice sounded from somewhere behind us.

“Daddy, Daddy, look at what Mummy gots for me,” Shiloh cried out as she scrambled to her feet.

I was frozen in place. My eyes found Deck’s, and I could see he was affected exactly the same way I was. I was barely breathing. She’d called me Mummy. Holy crap. Only a few minutes ago, she was calling me her usual Char-char, and then, out of the blue, she called me Mummy.

Deck was the first to recover, and bending down, he looked at Shiloh’s new shoes.

“Hey, Squirt, they are cool as shit. Why don’t you go find Darth and show him? Maybe he will help you put them on. It’s nearly time for you to dance for us, and then Mummy is going to dance for us.”

Mummy. Never had I heard a better sounding word in my life.

“I go and talks to Darf, Daddy. See ya later, army man.” She giggled as she took off with her new prize. “Fank you, Mummy, dese are cool as shit,” she parroted before she disappeared around the corner off in search of her bodyguard.

“Holy shit, Sweetness. Did you hear that?” Deck asked me, totally in awe of the moment. He reached down and helped me up from my position stuck on the floor. His large hands wrapped around my bare arms—well, bare except for the little lace wrap that would act as my fairy wings for the dance.

Did I hear it? I could hear nothing else at that moment. The word Mummy was on repeat in my mind.

“I’m Shiloh’s mummy,” I whispered. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Thank God, I hadn’t put on any makeup because I would look like a racoon about then.

As Deck’s arms wrapped around me, his leather jacket was cool against my body.

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” he agreed as he kissed the top of my head. He held me close as we enjoyed the beautifulness of the moment.

“Now, go get dolled up for your dance, Mummy. Our daughter is waiting.”