Chapter 19 Tate
TATE
“Pan-da!” Molly grins as I place the plate in front of her.
“That’s right. Pandas.”
I’ve used some seaweed to make the black parts on little balls of white rice and served them to Molly with a side of cut up vegetable sticks for her lunch.
I’ve watched her for Sullivan more than a few times over the past week.
Usually after my shift ends, and at their place.
It’s quickly becoming a routine that I ride home with him, then make dinner while he finishes up with work calls.
Joan is still sick, and Arabella is still away.
The doctors say whatever Joan has is viral and will go by itself, but she didn’t want to be around Molly until she was completely better.
Sullivan’s face when Joan called had me offering to help out more in the evenings as soon as he hung up.
He looked so stressed. His phone had rung again with something work related before he could even answer me.
He’d looked at Molly with guilt in his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose and answering the call. “Thank you, Tate,” he’d whispered.
But today we aren’t at his place, we’re at his office. And he only needed me for an hour over lunch while he had a video meeting. Molly’s grandfather is coming to collect her for the afternoon.
The two of us sit together at the table, happily munching on matching panda themed lunches while Sullivan sits at the desk in his office on the other side of the hallway with a scowl on his face as he hosts a meeting through his computer screen.
He looks up as if sensing my eyes on him and I give him a little finger wave, tipping my head toward Molly who’s happily eating a cucumber stick that I arranged to look like bamboo for the panda on her plate.
Sullivan told me he sometimes struggles to get her to sit still long enough to eat lunch.
But if I can get her interest by making it look fun, then she’ll sit and devour the whole lot.
Sullivan’s lips lift into the smile he reserves especially for Molly as his eyes move to her.
It’s gone before he looks back at me, but there’s still a touch of warmth in his eyes.
One which I’m sure is gratitude. I’ve noticed it a few times since I came back to work for him.
But he doesn’t need to be grateful. Looking after Molly is a joy.
I love her company and curious little questions.
The way she takes delight in such small things, like a ladybug that had found its way onto a plant in their living room last week.
And how she always admires my bracelet and says, “Tate, momma, pretty,” after I told her it helps me remember my mom.
Whatever’s happening in the meeting Sullivan’s taking, he doesn’t look happy about it. He shakes his head with a firm bark of, “Not good enough”, that I hear through both glass walls, before shaking his head at whatever is said in response.
“Well done, Molly,” I say, seeing her empty plate. I take the lid off the pot I packed the pandas in. “Would you like another one?”
She nods with big, eager eyes, as I put another on her plate.
“I’ll have to remember that you like pandas, huh?” I say with a smile.
“Pan-das,” Molly repeats.
An easy happiness fills my chest at the sight of her happy face and head of dark curls as she polishes it off, then declares, “All gone.”
“Good job, Sweetheart,” a deep voice praises.
I was too busy watching Molly to hear Sullivan come in.
“She ate it all, Daddy,” I tell him.
Molly beams at him with pride.
“You ate all of it? You mean, Daddy doesn’t get a panda?”
Sullivan walks into the room, his hands pushed into his dark blue pant pockets.
No matter what suit he has on, he always manages to make me think it’s my favorite.
The one that suits him the most. Shows his broad shoulders the best. Highlights his blue eyes.
Picks up the shine in his dark hair that he wears cut short above his collar.
It’s not him I’m drawn to. I just see so many suits worn each morning on my shifts at Caffeine Couture, that I’m beginning to recognize the best fitted ones.
The Tom Fords, the Brionis. And then there are the ones that are specially designed for the wearer, with specialist tailors flown in to fit them.
Like Sullivan’s.
They’re really quite beautiful.
“There’s still one panda with your name on it, if you want it?” I hold the pot out and offer the lone rice ball to him.
“No, I’m good.”
“Daddy, eat it,” Molly pipes up.
I try not to laugh at Sullivan’s perplexed frown as he gazes at the panda like it might get up and actually start walking.
“Not one for ‘Serious Sullivan’, hey?” I say as I stand and start packing up the lunch things.
“Serious Sullivan?” He arches a brow and I try not to smirk. It’s definitely gotten much easier working for him since I came back. He’s kept to his promise of treating me with respect. I’d go as far to say he’s even friendly on occasion.
“Yeah.” I shrug, deciding to tease him. Whatever happened in his meeting has gotten him looking all tense, and I hate that. “‘Silly Sully’ would eat the panda.”
He looks at me like I just suggested a ‘come to work nude day’ for the entire office.
“Silly Sully?” he repeats so slowly that my stomach twists. His eyes penetrate mine and I halt my tidying up.
I went too far.
“Eat pan-da!” Molly demands.
Sullivan’s face softens and he crouches down level with her. “Daddy’s not hungry, Sweetheart. But they look yummy.”
“Pan-da.” Molly does a great job of mimicking his scowl I often see as she stands her ground.
“Tate. A panda please, if you’d be so kind.” He holds his hand out to the side, pretending to sound defeated.
Molly giggles in delight as I place the small rice animal in his palm and he stuffs it into his mouth like a monkey without table manners, then makes a big show of chewing it and making lots of ‘mm’ and ‘yum’ noises as he devours it in a few seconds.
I can’t help but smile that I get to witness this side of him.
The one no one else except his daughter and family see.
There’s something special about seeing a big, serious guy, who can go from looking like he’s about to tear someone’s head off in business, to ruffling his daughter’s hair while he acts like a doofus to make her laugh, a moment later. Something really special.
“Grandad can’t come and get you for a little while, okay?” Sullivan tells Molly. “He has to look after Halliday.”
“O-kay,” she answers with the easy acceptance of an almost three-year-old as she heads off to pick up a toy to play with.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, noting the way Sullivan rubs at his temples with one hand.
“Halliday’s bleeding. Not much, but enough that they want to get checked out and make sure the baby is okay. He said he’ll call when he knows more.”
“Gosh, I hope everything’s all right.” I follow his gaze to where Molly’s happily playing, sensing the tension rolling off him in waves. “I can stay longer if you need me to? While you work?”
“It’s fine, Tate,” he replies, his attention staying on Molly. “You do enough. You have your shift to get back to.”
“Not today. Ashley gave me the afternoon off. I was going to enjoy the sun and read in the park. I could… take Molly with me?”
Sullivan stiffens the moment the words leave my mouth.
“… Or we can stay here. There’s plenty to play with.
She might like to color.” I backtrack furiously, ignoring the pang of disappointment that he still doesn’t trust me.
But I’m being stupid. This isn’t about me.
This is about Molly. Sullivan’s a very protective father. And I shouldn’t take it personally.
“No.” He sighs. “She’s spent the morning here with me while I answered emails. She needs to get out.”
“We go park?” Molly pipes up hopefully.
Sullivan smirks. “For a kid who looks like they aren’t listening, you sure don’t miss anything, do you?”
Molly looks at him, the picture of innocence until he blows out a breath. “Okay, park, Sweetheart. But Daddy might have to make some calls while we all go, okay?”
“Is that okay with you?” He turns his piercing blue eyes on me, and I stare into them.
“That you come along and work, and I’ll watch her? Sure.”
“Great.” His shoulders soften like he’s relieved. “I’ll get my laptop.”
A few minutes later we’re heading into reception to catch the elevator. Molly’s holding my hand and humming a cute little tune as we walk.
“Cara?” Sullivan pauses, one hand holding Molly’s, the other carrying his laptop bag. “I’m heading out for a while.”
Her ice-blonde head snaps up from behind the desk, eyes narrowing into daggers as they flick over my Caffeine Couture uniform and the sight of Molly’s hand in mine.
“Are you escorting Miss Miller back next door?” she asks.
“No. I’m escorting them both to the park,” Sullivan replies.
“What should I do if I need you?” she questions, batting her lashes at him.
“Call my cell,” he says, a hint of agitation creeping into his tone.
“How long will you be?” she calls as we stop in front of the elevators and Sullivan punches the call button.
“As long as the girls want me to be,” he barks back, clearly annoyed now.
The girls. Not my daughter. The girls. Like I’m part of the gang.
I don’t know why that makes my stomach flutter like it’s full of bubbles, but it does. I smile at Molly, and she beams, then looks over at Sullivan and beams at him too.
We step into the elevator and Cara’s pinched face is the last thing I see as the doors slide closed.