Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1648

For safety’s sake, Mars had Milka—his honorary goddaughter and trusty sidekick.

“Milka, when’s your next day off? I’ll take you to Havenbrook to meet my goddaughter from Newtown.”

Milka sighed, thinking about work. “I only get one day off, and it’s never enough.”

Catching her disappointment, Mars’s mind was already racing: Could he, as an officer, sneak his goddaughter onto a plane without a birth certificate? And how would he manage to smuggle her out of Conner’s arms in Newtown all the way to Havenbrook?

“Mars? What are you daydreaming about?”

“Huh?” Mars blinked, jolted back to reality. “Oh, just pondering how to break the law without actually getting caught.”

Milka just stared at him, speechless.

Summer by the lake was perfect—breezy, warm, the kind of day that made you want to do nothing but stroll and chat.

Mars and Milka walked side by side, laughing as he recounted the time his godson bawled so loudly he ended up at the police station. A whole gang of grown men got roasted by the officers before Andre finally came to bail them out.

He grinned, telling her how he used to bug Conner every day about having a daughter, and then when she finally arrived, Andre nearly turned green with envy. “Last time I was in Newtown, Asher started nagging me to have a daughter, too.”

Lately, Mars had been helping his godson with homework. “It’s a struggle. I’ve never met a kid with so many questions—every day’s a new round of ‘why, why, why.’”

Milka burst out laughing, eyes shining. “You’re making me miss little Henry. Haven’t seen that chubby-cheeked troublemaker in ages.”

Mars grinned. “What time do you get off tomorrow?”

“Six.”

Right at six the next day, Henry showed up at the office building, eyes wide and a little sleepy. “Godfather, why did you call me here?”

Mars grinned. “Hey, kiddo, have I ever treated you unfairly?”

Henry wrinkled his nose, clueless. “Godfather, what’s ‘unfairly’?”

Henry looked pained. “Godfather, does ‘godmom’ mean ‘lazy mom’? Does she have feet on her head? Last time I wanted that meat, but Dad only bought some for himself, not for me...” His little voice trembled, as if the injustice of the world rested on his small shoulders.

Mars rubbed his forehead. “Not ‘lamb,’ not ‘meat’—it’s Milka. Mil-ka. Godmom.”

Henry fumbled over the words, and Mars almost laughed at how hopeless it was. Henry twisted his little hands. “So, ‘godmom’ means she’s tough?”

Mars finally got a taste of what his friends went through every day. A three-year-old was turning his words into mush. “No, no, she’s the nice lady who played with you at the park, remember?”

Henry stared blankly and shook his head.

Mars tried again. “Look, just call any woman you see ‘godmom,’ okay? Don’t call her ‘auntie’ or anything else, just ‘godmom.’ Understand?”

This, Henry understood. So, as soon as he spotted a cleaning lady on the sidewalk, he pointed and yelled, “Godmom!”

Mars quickly clapped a hand over Henry’s mouth. “Not every woman, you rascal! She’s not even here yet!”