Tristy might think it was stupid to talk to someone who didn’t understand a word I said, but he responded to me more than anyone else who lived in this apartment, so I kept talking to him. Besides, he was too cute not to talk to him. He watched my mouth when I spoke as if every word was divine; he was mesmerized. Kinda made me feel important.
I slipped on my Forbidden Nightclub uniform—which was actually just a snug black T-shirt and blue jeans—and checked the kiddo’s diaper one more time before I carried him back into the front room.
“Here you are,” I told Tris. “He’s clean and fed and ready to go.” I tried to hand Fighter to her directly, but she shot me a dirty look. So I sighed and settled him back into his swing. I bet he hated that damn swing.
I would not lose my temper. I would n
