Chapter 44 #2
Ryan joins us, already arranging next steps, but I let the moment be what it is: my kid is safe, the path is clear, and a weight shifts off a place in my chest I’d forgotten how to unclench.
Vanessa sweeps out first with her lawyer, without stopping to speak to Brianna.
So much for starting off the relationship with her daughter on the right foot.
Mya and Maggie follow a minute later. Mya puts a hand on Bri’s shoulder as they pass, and says, “I’ll be right outside.” Brianna lingers with me while Ryan packs up the last of the files.
“Ready, Piglet?”
She nods. We step into the hall and stop.
Vanessa’s voice carries around the corner. “... enjoy playing house while it lasts. You really think he’ll keep you? You’re a pretty stand-in with a borrowed last name. A glorified nanny who warms his bed.”
Maggie’s warning tone follows. “Ms. Albright, don’t.”
“This is neither the time nor place,” Mya replies.
Vanessa laughs. “You don’t get to set rules around my child. You slithered into a ring and think that makes you a wife and stepmom? Please. You were nobody before him, and you’ll be nobody after.”
“Enough,” I hear Mya say. “Not here.”
“You don’t tell me where,” Vanessa snaps. “You don’t tell me anything, golddigger.”
Heat climbs my spine. I hand Brianna my binder without looking away from the corridor. “Stay with Ryan,” I murmur.
I find Mya standing straight, chin up, hands loose at her sides and Vanessa crowding her space.
“Back up, Vanessa,” I seethe.
She doesn’t. She tips her head, eyes raking over Mya. “Tell me. Do you cut the crusts off my daughter’s sandwich because it looks good on camera? Or because you’re practicing for when you have one of your own and he’s already traded you in?”
Mya’s jaw tightens, but her voice stays calm. “Brianna is not a prop. She’s a child who needs consistency. I’m here to give her that because she deserves it.”
Vanessa sneers. “Consistency? You’ve been here five minutes. I carried her. I bled for her. You don’t get to step into my life and—”
“No one can step into being a mother,” Mya grits out. “You show up for her or you don’t. That’s your choice. But you don’t get to weaponize her to punish anyone.”
Vanessa’s face hardens. She jabs a finger toward Mya’s chest. “You don’t speak to me about motherhood. You slept your way into a house you didn’t build.”
My hand shoots out, catching Vanessa’s wrist mid-jab. “That’s enough.”
Mya doesn’t flinch. “I work with Bri on her math. I take notes at her counselor’s request. I show up at pick-up, rain or shine.
None of that replaces you. All of it supports her.
” She holds Vanessa’s gaze. “If you want a relationship with your daughter, start by not attacking the people keeping her steady.”
My ex-wife leans in, a whisper meant to bruise. “You’re temporary. When he gets bored, you’ll go back to whatever cubicle he plucked you from. Keep your hands off my daughter in the meantime.”
I step between them, close enough that Vanessa has to tilt her chin to hold my gaze.
“Watch how you speak to my wife,” I seethe, anger rolling off me. “Right now, and going forward.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t let her say another word.
“Here are the rules: you do not corner or harass my wife—here, at school, online, anywhere. You do not speak about her in front of Bri. You do not weaponize visitation. One more stunt like this, and I document it, and we ask Judge Martinez for restrictions you won’t like. Control your damn self, Vanessa.”
Her lawyer materializes from the corner. “Ms. Albright,” he says carefully, touching her elbow. “This is not advisable.”
Vanessa jerks once, eyes bright with spite. “Enjoy the ring while it shines,” she spits at Mya. “When he’s done, you’ll be a footnote.”
Mya’s expression doesn’t falter. I’m so damn proud of her for standing her ground and not cowering. The way she defends herself, and Bri, pries my chest open wider.
I love that she’s strong for herself.
I love that she’s gentle with my daughter.
I love that she cares about me and my life.
I love her.
Vanessa’s attorney steers her away down the corridor. She throws one last glare over her shoulder and disappears around the bend.
The air loosens.
I turn to Mya. “You okay, baby?”
She exhales slowly. “I’m fine.”
Brianna joins us and looks from Mya to me, reading the room. I open an arm, and she steps in without hesitation, sketchbook thumping my side.
Over her head, Mya meets my eyes. “Let’s go home.”
Mya
I finally let out an exhale when we walk into the house.
Brianna heads upstairs early with her sketchbook, and I promise I’ll come say goodnight.
After changing into comfier clothes, I find Worth in the kitchen, palms braced on the island.
“How’s your heartbeat?” I ask, sitting on the bench.
He huffs. “Returning to human.”
We stay silent for a minute, letting the quiet calm the storm of today.
“Thank you for showing up,” he adds.
Heat presses under my sternum like an ache. “Of course. I’ll always be there for you and Brianna.”
His gaze flicks to my fingers on the counter, then to my wedding ring. Without thinking too hard about it, I turn my palm up. He sets his hand over mine, and I feel the tight coil inside me unwind a notch.
Bri pads down the stairs. “Goodnight,” she mumbles, tipping her face to me first so we can bump heads. Worth presses his lips to her temple. She squeezes our hands together like she’s fusing us and then disappears up the stairs again.
We don’t move for a while after that. Eventually Worth says, “Tea?” and I nod. We drink it leaning hip to hip against the counter, and when the mugs are empty, I slide my hand into his. He threads our fingers together like he’s been waiting to do it all day.
“Come upstairs with me,” he says. Not a command—an invitation.
I hesitate just long enough to feel the line I drew, to choose it, or step over it with my eyes open. And then, “Okay.”
In the bedroom, we don’t flip on the overhead light, the lamps casting the room in a honeyed glow. I take off my slippers and Worth shrugs off his jacket. We meet at the foot of the bed as if our feet decided before our heads did.
“Can I?” he asks, palm hovering at my waist.
“Yes.”
Worth draws me in, and the first kiss is the kind that lets everything from the day drain away. His mouth is careful; mine mirrors his.
We deepen the kiss, and I begin to unbutton Worth’s shirt, then his trousers. When his clothes pool around him, I let my hands roam his body, my palms running over all of his edges. His Adam’s apple, the muscles on his arms, the ripples on his stomach.
He hisses at my touch, eyes falling shut like he wants to savor all of it. When he meets my gaze again, there’s so much I could say, but instead I breathe, “This feels real,” into the small space between us.
“It is,” he says, just as soft.
“Touch me, please?”
Worth doesn’t respond with words. He nudges my arms up and slips off my shirt, then pushes down my leggings. He takes a step back to admire my almost naked form.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he murmurs, toying with a loose curl at my temple. For a moment, we just look at each other.
Worth is sculpted like a damn statue. I can’t take my eyes off him.
And I don’t. I soak him in, memorizing every line like it might be the last time I get to see him like this. Because now that our arrangement has technically run its course, it means whatever this is between us is supposed to be over, too.
“Hey. Come back to me,” Worth murmurs, pulling me out of my head.
I smile, eyes dropping to my feet. “Sorry.”
He tips my chin up, and kisses me softly. “Don’t be. Just be with me.”
I know he means right now, in this moment, but we both know it carries more weight than that.
Worth wants me to stay.
But I don’t know if I can.
Whatever is stopping me from believing this is real is louder than common sense, louder than how good he is to me and to Bri. It’s fear—plain and simple. And I don’t want to tell him that, because if I do, he’ll move mountains to pull it out of me, and I know he’d succeed.
I just don’t know if I’m ready for everything.
I don’t know if he’s ready for me.
He’s lived a certain way for years—women, freedom, no explanations—and being thrown into this domestic bubble can mess with anyone’s head.
I don’t want to be the woman he settles for, only to then realize later he doesn’t want to be tied down.
I don’t want to hand him my whole heart and watch him remember he liked his life better when he didn’t have to answer to anyone.
Worth notices I’ve drifted off again. “Talk to me, baby.”
I can’t.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk. Just feel.”
For once, I don’t fight it. I allow the wanting to be uncomplicated. Tomorrow will bring logistics and every way life can test a choice.
Tonight, I let myself get lost in Worth.