She slowly shakes her head. “No, Dad. I’m not backing down on this. And you should be backing me up, not Martin. I don’t care if he’s your partner or your protege. I’m your daughter. You should have called me the second you saw him bring Willow in.”
“I—”
“Mommy!”
All heads turn to the sound of that sweet little voice calling from across the lobby. Willow’s sitting in a desk chair, undoubtedly Martin’s, and she lights up the moment she sees us.
When she sees me, she gasps and jumps to her feet. “Demmy!”
Her little feet fly across the tiled floor. I’m quick to meet her halfway. I scoop her up into a giant bear hug that makes her squeal and giggle with glee. When she hugs me tight, I’m struck with the sudden, intense realization that I’m not letting this kid go.
Ever.
Except to let her
