5. Lillian
A few hours later,I’m sitting in front of one of the DCS offices in Phoenix with Grace snoozing in the backseat. She always falls asleep during the trip up here. The clock on the dash says it’s five til, so I don’t turn off the car, opting to let her sleep a little longer.
A little to keep her to myself for a few more minutes, too. I hate these days. Dread every time I see Grace’s mom show up clean and wonder if this’ll be the last supervised visit before the judge gives her unsupervised visits. And then overnight stays. And then full-custody back.
Tears start to well up at the thought, and I choke back the lump in my throat. A knock on my window startles me enough that a tear manages to fall. I brush it away quickly with the back of my hand before peering to my left.
Yasmine smiles back, waving, until she sees my red-rimmed eyes. Then, a look of understanding sadness smiles back at me. With a great amount of effort, I smile back at her, turn off the car, and step out.
Yasmine has been the assigned caseworker for Grace’s supervised visits from the start. They bring in a third party for these visits, and I liked her immediately. She’s been friendly, gracious, and understanding. But also impartial. Damn her.
I don’t bother shutting the door softly when I get out because it’s time to wake Grace up anyway. “Hey, Yasmine. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Same old.” I nod, and she doesn’t ask how I am, bless her. Instead, she waits for me to open the back door and shake Grace awake.
“Gracie. Hey, baby girl. Time to wake up,” I whisper softly. That’s all it takes. Her eyes open immediately, darting around and trying to figure out where we are.
“Yazzy!” she yells, going from comatose to completely alert in point two seconds. But she loves Yasmine, too. Says she’s her best friend. Outside of Nicky, that is.
“Hey, miss thing! I missed you.” Yasmine grins from behind me. “You ready to have some fun?”
“Yeah!” Grace yells. They’ve got a ton of toys inside. Blocks, puzzles, legos, barbies. Those weird game blocks that are usually at dentists’ or doctors’ offices. The ones with multi-colored wire things that you pull beads from one end to the other. Anything for kids to play with, so the mandatory meeting they have with almost strangers is a little more enjoyable.
Of course, Grace knows who it is she’s meeting. I’ve explained the situation as best as I could to a four-year old. Told her that I would always be her mom, but she didn’t come out of my tummy. It didn’t matter to her though. I’m still ‘mom,’ and her birth mom is just a friend she sees every few weeks. If she shows.
The three of us walk toward the front doors. I’m not allowed to sit in on the visits with them, but I do walk inside and hang out until I know for sure that her mom has shown up.
Once we’re inside, Gracie knows the drill because she turns to me as I bend down and gives me a big hug. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you in a bit. Have fun, okay?” My throat is tight again, but she doesn’t notice. Just squeezes me back for a second, and then lets go, breaking my heart.
“Okay. Bye, Mommy!” she shouts, already running down the hallway to the toy room, Yasmine on her heels.
I take my seat in the waiting room. My appointment for the health check is in forty-five minutes, and it’s just a few blocks away. Gotta love Kim for making it so conveniently close to here. So if her mom shows up, I’ll head out right away. But if she doesn’t show up in the first half an hour, we’re free to leave.
The next twenty-eight minutes are excruciatingly slow. Halfway through, I catch myself biting my nails, cursing at myself and then opting to sit on my hands instead. Two minutes later, nobody has walked through the front, so I hop up and walk to the backroom.
There are windows at each of the rooms, so I just peek my head out, catch Yasmine’s eye, and point to my watch in question. She huffs a small laugh but nods when she looks at the clock on the wall. Grace looks up at Yasmine’s voice and catches sight of me through the windows.
I push open the door but don’t walk in. We’re kind of on a time crunch now that Grace is walking with me to the appointment.
“Ready to go, sweetie?” I ask, and she pouts but nods, dropping the toy in her hand. “Say goodbye to Yasmine,” I tell her.
They hug quickly, and then I’m out the door with Grace on my hip. Normally, she’d walk, but I told her we had to hurry because we were late for Mommy’s appointment. She complained for a minute until I offered—bribed—her with ice cream after.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting on an exam table with Grace on my lap as we wait for the doctor. The longer we wait, though, the heavier I feel her get until her head falls completely weightless on my shoulder. Sound asleep again.
Wonderful. She’s going to be awake almost the whole ride back now. Of course, the doctor walks in two minutes later, ready to go.
She stops when she sees my sleeping baby and whispers her hello.
“Sorry, she just fell asleep.” I shrug unapologetically. If they ran on time, she would have been awake.
The doctor is unperturbed, though. “That’s okay, I can work around her.” Her smile is kind and professional. “You’re just here for a basic wellness screening and STD check?” she asks.
I nod.
“Great, if you could shift her to one arm, I’ll start with your blood pressure,” she instructs.
I do as she says, barely having to move Grace at all. We go through all the regular steps. Blood pressure, lung and heart check, health questions. Then she draws blood from my arm for the—I guess—extensive STD panel.
The doctor leaves after confirming the results will be sent in a few days.
The sun is setting when I leave the office, blanketing the office buildings in a golden hue. Grace woke up as the doctor shut the door behind her on the way out, so she’s walking hand in hand with me to an ice cream shop down the street that used to be my go-to spot when I lived in Phoenix four years ago.
The nap gave her a big burst of energy because she is jabbering away, and I do my best to listen to her and keep an eye on our surroundings. One guy walks a little too close, and I give him the stink eye. At the look, he frowns but steps a foot in the opposite direction.
“Mommy! Look!” Grace yells at me to look at where she’s pointing. The ice cream shop has a big cone sign lit in neon colors, which she has spotted up ahead.
Two seconds. That is how long I’m distracted, ignoring the group of businessmen walking past us.
“Lil?” a deep, surprised voice calls out. It stops me in my tracks with Grace still clinging to my hand, trying to pull me toward the line of people out the shop’s doors.
That voice…
A trickle of a memory breaks through. Flashes of lazy kisses while snuggling on the couch, teasing over breakfast, and strong fingers gripping my hips all hit me in a five-second span of time. The voices filling the busy Saturday sidewalk filter out as I turn in slow motion to see the man who broke my heart four years ago staring at me like he’s seen a ghost.
Lincoln.
Shit.
Panic starts to build as I think through my options. Do I ignore him? Give him a small wave and obligatory smile like an emotionally mature thirty-year-old woman and then go on my way? Do I stop and catch up?
His group of friends, or maybe coworkers, have stopped as well and are glancing between the two of us in obvious interest. I wonder what they see on my face. Panic? Longing? Pain?
I school my features into what I hope is a bland smile as he breaks off from the group and walks toward me. My eyes scan him from head to toe, and damn him, he looks good. Still absolutely gorgeous with his hazel eyes, dark mop of hair, and thick, trimmed beard.
There are a few gray hairs around his temple now, though, and as he gets closer, I notice the beginnings of crow”s feet around his eyes. But rather than detract from his look, it makes him even more attractive.
How do men do that? Get better looking with age.
He’s bigger, too. Even in his perfectly tailored navy suit, I can tell he’s packed on at least ten pounds of muscle in the past four years.
I’m still agonizing over which approach I’m going to take with him, the friendly and polite brush-off or the still jilted lover, when he stops in front of me. Turns out I don’t need to worry. Not as Grace tugs on my pant leg and whines, “Mommyyy.”
Lincoln’s hazel eyes shoot right down to the beautiful little girl clutching me, begging for the sweet treat I promised, and he stills.
Well…shit.