As Bert and I broke apart, my friend’s easy-going grin triggered a matching one on my face. “What?” I asked.
“Sooo, Fern’s a firecracker, ain’t she?”
I chuckled but reminded myself I still needed to tread carefully. I gestured to the sofa, inviting Bert to sit down and using the moment to get a grip on my anxiety. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d taken the precaution to conceal Fern’s shifter scent. I’d gone to a witch in Berlin’s Mitte district, who’d given me medicine to block my daughter’s scent to others with unnatural abilities. But I knew I mustn’t reveal any nervousness before my friend about my daughter, or he’d get suspicious.
“She certainly keeps me on my toes,” I started.
Bert’s keen blue eyes took me in, and he didn’t ask, but the silence filled with the unasked question about where Fern’s father was. Knowing it was important for me to broach the subject first before my friend could ask whether she was Dylan’s, I leaped into the topic.
“I met Fern’s dad, a human, in my first year studying here… but… we didn’t stay together, so… I had Fern by myself.”
A shadow fell over his face. “Oh, Cherry. I can’t believe you went through all that alone. If I’d only known, I’d have been over here in a flash.”
“Thanks, Bert…” I reached out, patting his arm. “And I know you would.” I sighed, guilt churning in my stomach for lying to my friend. Especially after the heartfelt reunion we’d just shared. But my deception was for Fern’s sake, I reminded myself. Ironically, I hadn’t had to manage my breathing like this since I’d given birth to her. I was making sure I kept it calm, aware that any tell-tale symptoms, like a quickening heart rate or my pheromones altering, wouldn’t reach Bert’s overly keen shifter senses.