Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nolan
T he concrete is still wet when my phone rings. Usually, I'd let it go to voicemail, we're on a tight schedule, and even though I'm the boss, I like to work alongside my crew. Leading by example and all that shit. But when I see Annabelle's name on the screen, something in my gut tightens.
"Take over," I tell Marco, wiping my hands on my jeans and stepping away from the pour.
He nods, used to my occasional need to handle business calls. But this isn't business. This is Annabelle, who I've been carefully keeping at arm's length. Since I broke my own rules and tasted what I shouldn't have.
"Hey, Annabelle, everything okay?" I try to keep my voice neutral, professional.
"Nolan, there's someone here." Her voice is low, urgent. "Lisa is here. She's asking to see Ashlynn."
Lisa. My ex-wife. The woman who walked out on our daughter and never looked back. The woman who signed away her parental rights for a quick divorce and a fresh start three thousand miles away.
"I'll be right there," I say, already moving toward my truck. "Don't let her in. Don't let her near Ashlynn."
Marco catches my eye as I pass, questioning. I make a quick gesture, family emergency ,and he nods, understanding without words. That's why he's my foreman. That's why I trust him to handle things when shit like this happens.
"I'm on my way," I assure Annabelle. "Fifteen minutes, tops." Though I'll try to make it in ten. "Stay on the phone with me if you need to."
"I think we're okay for now. But please hurry."
"I will." I pause, gratitude washing over me. "And Annabelle? Thank you."
I end the call and throw my truck into gear, peeling out of the construction site with a spray of gravel. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.
What the fuck is Lisa doing here? After years of silence, after refusing to even send a birthday card to her own daughter, she just shows up unannounced? And what does she want? Money? To disrupt the life Ashlynn and I have built? To fuck with my head just when things were finally,
No. Not finally settled. Things with Annabelle are anything but settled.
That kiss. Christ, that kiss had been months in the making. Too many months of watching her with Ashlynn, of coming home to her smile, of feeling something crack open inside me each time she laughed. A year of fighting it, of reminding myself she's Ashlynn's nanny, not some woman I picked up at a bar.
And then I'd gone and ruined it all with one impulsive moment.
I slam my hand against the steering wheel, frustration boiling over. Focus, Nolan. Deal with Lisa first. The mess with Annabelle can wait.
The drive home is a blur of traffic lights and shortcuts. When I pull into the driveway, I spot Lisa immediately, perched on my porch swing like she belongs there, like she didn't forfeit any right to my life and home the day she walked out.
I'm out of the truck and up the walkway in seconds. Lisa stands, arms crossed, looking exactly as I remember but somehow less. Less vibrant. Less important.
The door opens before I reach it, and there's Annabelle, concern etched into her features. Something in me softens at the sight of her.
"Where's Ashlynn?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"In the backyard. We're doing crafts." She steps aside, making room for me to enter.
"Good." I nod, grateful for her quick thinking. "Keep her there, please."
Our eyes meet briefly, and for a moment, I let myself remember how it felt to kiss her, warm, right, inevitable. Then I turn to Lisa, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, not bothering to hide my anger.
Lisa's gaze shifts from me to Annabelle, who's backing away, giving us space.
"I'll go check on Ashlynn," Annabelle says softly, and I appreciate her discretion, even as part of me wishes she would stay.
Once she's gone, Lisa's expression hardens. "So this is why you won't answer my calls? You've got yourself a little girlfriend playing house with my daughter?"
Her words ignite a fury in me that I've kept banked for three years. "What does it matter, Lisa?" I snap, my voice rising. "The two of us haven't been together in years, and I'm free to live my goddamn life, since you threw me and your daughter away."
"I didn't 'throw her away,'" Lisa hisses, stepping closer. "I was twenty-two, Nolan. I wasn't ready to be a mother."
"And I was twenty-three. You think I was ready to be a single father?" I run a hand through my hair, exasperated. "But I stepped up. I did what needed to be done."
She scoffs, looking past me into the house. "With help, apparently. Your nanny seems quite... invested."
"Don't." I step between her and the doorway. "Don't talk about her. She's been more of a mother to Ashlynn than you ever were."
"For now." Lisa's smile is cold, her face pale by the burn I just dropped on her. "But we both know nannies come and go. I'm her real mother."
"No." I shake my head, disbelief mixing with anger. "You signed away your rights. Legally, you're nothing to her."
"About that." She reaches into her purse, pulling out a folded document. "I've been talking to a lawyer. There are provisions for reinstating parental rights, especially when the child's welfare is at stake."
"At stake?" I snatch the paper from her, scanning it quickly. "What the fuck are you talking about? Ashlynn is healthy, happy, and well-adjusted."
"Being raised by a single father who works sixty hours a week and a nanny he's clearly sleeping with? That's your definition of 'well-adjusted'?" Her tone is condescending, dripping with fake concern.
"I'm not sleeping with Annabelle," I growl, though the admission costs me something. "And even if I was, it would be none of your business."
"It becomes my business when it affects my daughter."
"She's not your daughter." I step closer, lowering my voice. "You abandoned her. You don't get to waltz back in here and pretend to care about her welfare."
Lisa's expression shifts, softens into something that might pass for regret if I didn't know better. "I made a mistake, Nolan. I was young and scared and overwhelmed."
"And now?" I fold my arms, unmoved by her sudden display of emotion. "What's changed?"
"I've changed." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I once found endearing. Now it just seems calculated. "I'm stable now. I have a good job, a nice place. I'm ready to be a mother."
"Three years too late."
"It's never too late to make things right." She reaches out, touches my arm. I jerk away as if her touch burns me. "We could start with visits. Just an hour or two, supervised if that makes you feel better."
"No." The word is final, brooking no argument. "Ashlynn doesn't know you, Lisa. You're a stranger to her."
"That's not my fault. You've kept her from me,"
"You asked me to." My control slips, rage breaking through. "You said, and I quote, 'I don't want to see her. It's too hard.' Those were your exact words when you left."
She flinches, but recovers quickly. "People change."
"Yeah, they do. I've changed too. I've become someone who protects his daughter from people who might hurt her. Including her birth mother."
Lisa's eyes narrow, any pretense of reconciliation vanishing. "This isn't over, Nolan. I have rights."
"No, you don't. You signed them away." I hand the paper back to her. "Whatever your lawyer told you, it's bullshit. In this state, voluntary termination of parental rights is permanent except in cases of fraud or duress. Neither of which apply here."
"We'll see about that." She snatches the document back. "I have photos, you know. Of you and your nanny. Quite cozy for an employer-employee relationship."
Cold dread washes over me. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm pointing out that a judge might find it interesting that the woman caring for my daughter is also sharing your bed." Her smile is venomous. "Doesn't look great for your case, does it?"
"There is no case." I step back, putting distance between us before I say something I'll regret. "And Annabelle is not 'sharing my bed.' She's a professional who loves Ashlynn and takes excellent care of her."
"Love," Lisa repeats, making the word sound dirty. "Is that what you're calling it?"
"Get out." My patience snaps. "Get off my property before I call the police."
"This isn't over," she says again, but she's already backing toward the steps. "I'll be in touch."
"Don't bother."
I watch her leave, waiting until her car disappears down the street before I allow myself to breathe. My hands are shaking, with anger, with fear, with a thousand emotions I can't name.
Running a hand down my face, I try to collect myself before going to find Annabelle and Ashlynn. I need to be calm for them. I need to be strong.
The backyard is a sanctuary of normalcy. Ashlynn sits cross-legged on a blanket, her hands covered in paint and glitter, while Annabelle kneels beside her, helping her press buttons onto what appears to be a handprint butterfly.
"Daddy." Ashlynn spots me and jumps up, running to me with sticky hands outstretched. "Look what we made."
I scoop her up, not caring about the paint and glitter now covering my work clothes. "Wow, that's beautiful, princess."
"It's a butterfly," she explains seriously. "We made lots of them. One for you too."
"I can't wait to see it." I hug her close, breathing in the scent of paint and the strawberry shampoo Annabelle uses on her hair. My daughter. Safe. Happy. Oblivious to the storm that just passed through our lives.
Over Ashlynn's head, my eyes find Annabelle's. She's watching us, her expression a mix of concern and something else, something warm that makes my chest tighten.
"Is everything okay?" she asks quietly.
"For now." I set Ashlynn down. "Go finish your butterfly, sweetheart. I need to talk to Annabelle for a minute."
"Okay, but hurry. We're gonna have a picnic."
Once she's safely back on the blanket, engrossed in her project, I move closer to Annabelle.
"Thank you," I say, my voice low. "For keeping her away from Lisa. For calling me right away."
"Of course." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture so different from when Lisa did it that it makes my heart ache. "What did she want?"
"To cause trouble." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "She's talking about trying to get her parental rights reinstated."
Annabelle's eyes widen. "Can she do that?"
"No." I shake my head firmly. "Not legally. But she can make things difficult for a while."
"I'm sorry." Her hand touches my arm briefly, a gesture of comfort, nothing more, but it sends warmth through me nonetheless. "What can I do to help?"
The question, so simple, so sincere, breaks something in me. Before I can overthink it, I pull her into a hug, my arms wrapping around her shoulders.
"You're already helping," I murmur against her hair. "More than you know."
For a moment, she stiffens in surprise. Then she relaxes, her hands coming to rest lightly on my back. We stand there, connected, until Ashlynn's voice breaks the spell.
"Daddy. Annabelle. Come see."
We separate slowly, reluctantly. Annabelle's cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright when they meet mine.
"We should..." She gestures toward Ashlynn.
"Yeah." I nod, not trusting myself to say more.
But as we walk back to where my daughter waits, butterfly creations spread around her like colorful offerings, I feel something shift between us. Something that's been building since that kiss, no, since long before that.
This thing with Lisa isn't over. I know that. But standing here in the sunlight, watching Annabelle kneel beside my daughter, her hands gentle as she helps Ashlynn add one more button to her masterpiece, I'm struck by a certainty I've been fighting for too long:
Some things are worth the risk.