I open my eyes, squinting against the morning light pooling in from my living room windows. For a second, I pause and wonder where I am. I look to the old coffee table and I notice the two glasses sitting next to an empty whiskey bottle.

Anna. I smile, remembering everything as I lick my lips. She’s still lingering on them like the sweet aftertaste of fresh fruit and ice cream.

A pair of sleepy, blue and brown eyes stare at me from the far edge of the couch.

I twitch up to sit.

“Hello,” she says.

I blink and set my feet on the floor. “Charlotte…” I look to the closed bedroom door and back at the scope hanging around her neck. “Are you okay? Where’s your mom?”

She steps closer and I flinch. She lays the scope against my chest and shifts the earpieces up onto her head. I relax and breathe, finding amusement in her little, curious face. I get a better look at her in the light. She has my chin. My dimples. My god…

“It’s fast,” she says, listening hard.

“Yeah,” I say, catching my breath.

“Are you in love?”

“Am I what?”

My bedroom door swings open and Anna steps out with panic on her face. She exhales with relief when she sees Charlotte standing there, safe and sound.

“Char, what are you doing?” she asks.

I hold up a hand. “It’s okay. She’s just being curious.”

“She’s not bothering you?”

“No. I was already up.” I look at Charlotte again. “You guys sleep okay? Or at all?”

“She did,” Anna answers. “Eventually.”

“And you?”

“A wink here and there,” she says with a shrug.

“Are you guys hungry?”

Charlotte nods, flashing a big smile.

Anna steps forward. “Actually, we should probably get going…”

I shake my head to hide the sudden tug of emotion deep in my gut. I don’t want them to leave yet. I don’t want my daughter back on the streets where mob pricks want her dead.

“Not on an empty stomach,” I say. “How about it, Charlotte? Do you like breakfast burritos?”

“What’s buritoast?” she asks.

I gawk at Anna. “How are you raising this child?”

Anna shrugs.

“Do you like eggs?” I ask Charlotte.

“Yes,” she answers.

“Do you like bacon?”

“Yes.”

“How about cheese?”

“Yes!”

“Then, you like breakfast burritos. Come on.”

I hold out a hand and she takes it. Her little fingers just barely wrapping around two of mine. She looks up at me with a wide smile and I can’t help giving her one right back.

It nearly knocks me off my feet.

* * *

“What’s great about the burrito is that you can put whatever you want in it,” I say in front of my stove. “It’s completely customizable from the inside out.”

I look over my shoulder at the counter behind me. Charlotte nods, though I’m not sure she understands a word I’m saying. Not that I care. She’s so fucking adorable, she could smile and nod at me until the end of time and I won’t think less of her.

She takes another big bite of her little burrito, enjoying every bit of it. I beam with pride.

Anna sits on the stool beside her with her own half-eaten burrito. She’s also smiling but probably not for the same reasons I am. There’s a lot of lip-pressing behind her smile as if she’s desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

I turn back to my skillet. “For breakfast, you can add sausage or potatoes — oh, some green or red peppers and minced onions make for a good kick. Salsa is a given. You like salsa, Charlotte?”

“I don’t know,” she answers.

“Well, the next time we hang out, we’ll try some. I think you’ll like it. Sound good?”

I glance back again but she’s too busy chewing on another big bite to answer. Such a well-mannered kid. Anna taught her well. I sure as hell wasn’t this polite when I was her size.

I drop my own burrito on the last plate and turn off the stove. “Now, many people prefer to just wrap the thing in a tortilla and go but I always stick it over the heat. Just a few minutes of patience on both sides radically alters the experience.” I pick up my burrito and take a huge bite. “Mmm,” I hum, chewing. “Now, that is breakfast.”

Charlotte giggles and Anna finally lets a little bit of that laugh slip out.

I look down and cringe, realizing the bottom of my burrito split open and spilled a chunk of its contents out onto my shirt.

I chuckle and set it down again. “And that… is how we stay humble. Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be right back.”

I dip my head down and walk toward the laundry room in the back of my bathroom — though, laundry closet is probably a better term. There’s a basket sitting on top full of small, unfolded towels. I search my memory, wondering if they’re washed or not. I grab one and smell it. It’s clean.

“Hey, Milo.”

Anna stands in the doorway, still fighting the smile from taking over her face.

“Hey,” I say, wiping the mess off my shirt. “So, I totally meant to do this.”

“Oh, really?”

“Anything to make the kid laugh. Am I right?”

She steps in, her hands stiff at her sides. “Thank you for making her breakfast,” she says. “That was really sweet.”

“It was no problem,” I say. “My pleasure, honestly. She’s… she seems like a really cool kid.”

“She is — but I’m biased, so…”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Me, too. I guess.”

Anna fiddles with her index finger. “Milo, can I ask you another question?”

I toss the towel away. “Sure.”

She moves just a little bit closer and I pause, my eyes falling to her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. They press together again but she’s not holding back a laugh this time.

“You in there?” I ask.

“Kiss me again,” she says.

I smirk. “That’s not a question, Detective.”

She moves closer, so close I can almost feel her body heat. “Will you kiss me again?” she asks.

My tongue taps the roof of my mouth but I hold it back. “Why?” I ask.

“Because…” She looks down as I feel her fingers barely graze the front of my shirt. “Because I felt something last night and I need to know if it was just alcohol-laced adrenaline or not.”

My face burns. “Yeah. Sorry. Men can’t really control that…”

Her eyes grow wide. “No! No, not… I didn’t feel that. I actually didn’t know that you…”

I wince. “Oh.”

“Thanks, though,” she says. “That’s a compliment, I think.”

“It was!” I nod. “It was a very big… compliment.”

She smiles and my knees lurch. Her fingers put the slightest pressure on my abs, making the skin ignite beneath my shirt. “So, if the moment isn’t completely dead now… will you?”

“Not dead,” I say. “Moment still very much alive. Though, I gotta say, I kind of prefer it when women take charge and just go for it—”

“I haven’t done this in over five years.”

“Never mind.”

I cup her face and she tilts her head up as my lips lock with hers. At first, she feels stiff, fixed in place by nervous fear, but as my lips caress hers, she starts to move and blend her kiss with mine. I keep my tongue in check, holding it back until I know she’s ready.

Anna lays her hands flat on my sides. I feel her fingers tremble and I slowly wrap one arm behind her just in case it spreads to her knees.

She pulls away, breaking the kiss as she gasps for air. I quickly realize that I’m just as out-of-breath and I fill my lungs.

“Did you feel it?” I ask.

She nods. “Oh, yeah.”

“Good.”

I crush my mouth on hers again. Her hands clench my sides as I spin us around and lift her up to put her on the washer. My tongue takes over, gently swiping along her lips until she opens them for me. I spread her knees apart to get as close to her warm body as possible and she locks her ankles behind my back.

I push my hands up her body, feeling the trembles beneath her skin as they rock up and down her spine. Her hands slowly drop to rest just above my ass, staying there for what feels like an eternity before she works up the courage to go a little lower. Blood pounds through me as she grabs at me and I can’t help but dig my fingertips into her as well.

I move my hands beneath her shirt and she lurches back.

“Cold hands,” she says. “Cold hands.”

“Sorry.” I try and rub them together behind her back, refusing to unlock our lips. I give up and lay my palms down on her back, running them repeatedly up and down to spark some warmth.

Her face contorts as she holds back a laugh. “Uh…”

“Sorry—” I touch a bit of her skin beneath her top. “Good now?”

“Good enough.”

We kiss again, putting the awkward moment behind us as my hands slide up to her breasts. She feels and tastes as good as I thought she would but I want more. I want all of her. I’ve wanted her since the moment I saw that tight ponytail.

I inch a hand up her neck, curling it around behind her head to take hold of her hair. Her breath quivers as I grab her ponytail and gently ease her head back to get at her neck. Her nails dig deeper into my back with each bite and kiss I leave on her skin. A moan trembles her throat, vibrating my lips as I hook my other hand along the top of her jeans.

“Too fast,” she gasps. Her body locks. “Too, too fast.”

I release her hair. “Okay, we can slow down.”

She pushes me away. “No, we can stop.”

The s-word. I take another step back, letting go of her jeans, too.

“Fuck…” She slides off the washer. “I can’t do this.”

I reach out but she slips away from me. “Wait, Anna—”

“I’m a cop and you’re…” Her chest heaves. “This is so inappropriate.”

I shrug. “So?”

She frowns. “So?”

“Yeah. So, what?”

“You’re a person of interest in my murder investigation,” she says. “I could lose my job over this.”

“I’m also the father of that girl out there,” I argue. “This ain’t exactly black and white.”

“Okay…” She straightens up. “Let’s get one thing perfectly straight here, Milo. You are not a father. You might be genetically related to her but in no way have you earned that title, so don’t start throwing it around like it means something.”

I step back again. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“Yes.”

“Anna, I—”

“Detective,” she says.

I scoff. “Guess that settles that, doesn’t it?”

Anna looks down and walks out of the room. “Charlotte, it’s time to go,” I hear her say.

I stand still, listening to the two of them get ready. They aren’t just going home. They can’t go home. They’re going back onto the streets where anything could happen. The Quinns want her dead and Daniel definitely won’t be happy until that happens. I can’t let them go out there. I just can’t…

I follow her into the kitchen as she helps Charlotte slip her shoes on. “What about the Quinns?” I ask. “Where are you gonna go?”

“We’ll be fine, Milo,” she says without looking. “My family has a decent reputation for taking care of the mob.”

“They’re really not happy. I don’t think you realize who you’re up against here.”

“Where’s your jacket, Charlotte?” she asks, ignoring me. Charlotte points to the bedroom. “Go get it, honey. I’ll wait right here.”

I watch Charlotte walk from here into my room. Little, tiny feet. Adorable hands. Those fucking eyes.

She’s my daughter.

“Anna.”

She glares at me. “Thanks for the help last night but I’ll take it from here.”

“Anna—”

“Milo, I’m a homicide detective in Boston, Massachusetts,” she says. “I got this.”

Charlotte returns with her pretty pink jacket in hand. I step toward her, drawing a quick inhale from Anna but she swallows the objection.

“Let me help you,” I say, kneeling in front of Charlotte.

I take the jacket from her and hold it up. She instantly turns around and slips her arms in. I push it over her shoulders. My heart pounds, counting down the seconds until her mother drags her out of here.

“It was nice hanging with you, Charlotte,” I say.

The girl smiles, showing off her dimpled cheeks.

Anna holds out her hand. “Come on, Charlotte. Say goodbye to Milo.”

“Bye, Milo,” she says to me.

I poke the edge of her cheek just beneath her eyes. My eyes.

“Goodbye, Charlotte,” I say, my throat tightening.

Anna takes her hand and leads her out the door. She gives a quick look back at me before it closes behind them. It’s hard and full of determination. On one hand, I’m happy she’s so strong. Charlotte will grow up with a decent role model. I can already picture her fighting back against the boy who won’t stop tugging on her hair or speaking up when her friends get bullied.

On the other hand, if Anna has her way, I won’t be there to see any of it.

Then again, should I even be there in the first place?

I stand up and look around my empty apartment. Anna’s right. I’m not a father. Never have been. I’m a scam artist. A thief. I run a food truck where I sell tacos out the front and run contraband out the back. I lie for a living and I’ve never once felt badly about it.

I have no real life here. No real job. No family. One wrong move and I’ll be arrested. One slip and the mob will find me.

I walk over to my desk and sit down with my box of IDs and passports. It’ll take a day to create everything I need to start over somewhere new.

Then, it’s time to go.