Chapter 9 #2
He steps in to look down at Mia’s leg. His brows pull together, his jaw works, and for a second, he just stares at the unmarked skin. “Oh.”
“What?”
He blinks out of it. “Nothing. Probably just dirt. I thought it was a bite.”
The look in his eyes is strange, and I hold his gaze a beat longer than is comfortable. “All right then,” I say slowly and drop it because I’m a little confused myself.
“You two, go wash the park off your hands.” I straighten. “Then Bella can head home with her uncle.”
“We’re not having lunch?” Bella’s face falls.
I open my mouth to offer the pasta I’ve got going, but Marc gets there first.
“No.” It snaps out, clipped. He was teasing me over bacon this morning. Now he won’t even look at me.
It startles me. There’s no anger in it, no edge aimed at anyone. He just sounds wrong, the voice gone tight. I straighten and study him. “Hey. You okay?”
“Fine.” He says it to the floor. “Bella, get your bag. I’ve got things to do.”
Bella drags her feet and shoots me a betrayed look, but she goes, and he’s out the door with her so fast he doesn’t even stop to needle me. The lock clicks behind them, and the apartment goes quiet.
I turn to Mia, who’s stalled in the hall, picking at her sleeve. “Hey. Did something happen at the park, baby?”
She’s quiet a moment too long. “No. Nothing happened.” She won’t quite look at me. “Can I take a shower? I’m all sticky.”
“Sure,” I tell her and watch her disappear down the hall, trying to ignore the cold settling in my chest.
The week finds a rhythm, as weeks do once you stop fighting them.
Mia wakes up talking about Bella and falls asleep talking about Bella.
There’s a sleepover being negotiated, a science project being plotted, a feud with a boy named Theo that flares and resolves twice a day.
I drop her at the gate each morning, collect her each afternoon, and not once in five days do I see Marc.
I should be relieved. A whole week without those gray eyes finding me across a parking lot is exactly what I’ve been begging the universe for.
Instead, the quiet itches. I catch myself checking the gate each afternoon, half hoping to find him propped against it with that infuriating smile, half terrified I will.
After ten days of him refusing to be avoided, the sudden absence of him just leaves me braced for something to go wrong.
Friday I leave the office at noon because half days are the one thing this job got right. I’m in the car with the engine barely turning over when my phone goes off, the academy’s name on the screen.
“Mrs. Vasquez?” The nurse is brisk but kind. “Mia’s having an allergic reaction. Nothing life-threatening, but you’ll want to come.”
I’m already pulling out of the lot. “I’m coming.”
The word rattles around my skull the whole drive. I’ve spent ten years bracing for every emergency I could imagine, and an allergy never made the list. My hands grip the wheel too hard the whole way there.
I make the drive in half the time the law allows and half-run through the front doors. A receptionist points me toward the one office I least want to enter: Marc’s.
Mia’s perched in the big leather chair, blotchy pink across her arms and neck but upright and alert, swinging her legs. My knees nearly go out from under me.
“Hey, baby.” I drop in front of her and cup her blotchy face. “What happened?”
“I took some flowers from Bella, and they made me itch so bad.” She holds up her speckled arms for inspection. “But the nurse gave me a shot, and now it’s mostly just itchy.”
“Most kids would be wailing.” I press the back of my hand to her warm cheek out of pure habit, checking for fever I know isn’t there. “You’re tougher than the rest of them.”
She preens, still pink from the welts, chin lifting. “The nurse said I was brave.”
“She’s all right.” Marc’s at the window, half turned away. “The nurse caught it early. She’s allergic to lilies. It’ll fade by tonight.” His voice is even, but his expression is shuttered, and I can’t read it.
“Where’d you even get those flowers?”
“They were in our classroom.” Mia scratches her wrist. “Bella brought them in and gave me some.”
I glance at Marc. He looks away, out the window, jaw tight, and the guilt sits plain on him. So that’s it. Bella handed my kid something she’s allergic to, and he’s taking it hard.
“Hey.” I soften. “It’s nobody’s fault. I didn’t know she was allergic to lilies either. We know now. That’s all that matters, as long as she’s okay.”
“Can we go home?” Mia leans into me, gone small. “I’m really tired. I wanna sleep.”
“Of course we can.” I help her up.
“Actually.” Marc turns from the window. “Mia, wait outside for your mom a minute. I need a quick word with her.”
Mia looks between us, shrugs, and pads out, pulling the door shut behind her. The second the latch clicks, he turns to me, and the easy charm’s nowhere on him.
“You really didn’t know she was allergic to that flower?”
I frown at him. “Why would I lie about that? This is the first time in ten years I’ve seen her react to anything. I’d remember.”
He nods slowly, but he doesn’t look satisfied. “There’s some documentation I need to clear up on Mia’s file.”
A small alarm starts up at the base of my skull. “What documentation?”
“There are gaps.” He chooses the words carefully. “Around her birth father.”
Everything in me goes still. This is the conversation I’ve dreaded since I first saw him on that road, the powerful man with lawyers and time, tugging the one thread that unravels everything.
“What about him? His name’s right there on the paperwork.”
“It is.” He holds my gaze levelly. “But there’s nothing else attached to him: no contact number, no ID on file, no way to reach him.”
“Because there’s no need to reach him,” I say tightly. “I’m her mother and her guardian. He has no involvement in her life, and you already know that.”
“We need his information for the file.” His tone stays mild, which only winds me tighter. “His ID, a number, something. As a precaution.”
“A precaution against what?” I’m on my feet, my body coiled. “She’s enrolled. I’m her mother, standing right in front of you. Why does a soccer school need to hunt down some guy who’s never so much as sent her a birthday card?”
“It’s policy.”
“It’s harassment.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “You know what, forget it. If a complete file matters this much, I’ll pull her out. I’ll find the money for canceling her enrollment somehow.”
He’s up out of his chair fast, close enough that I have to tip my head back to hold his glare, and God help me, the pull’s still there under the fear. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” I plant my feet.
“Because I can’t give you what I don’t have, and I’m not about to go digging up a man I’ve spent years hiding from.
I don’t know what this really is, Marcus, but whatever I did to make you want to use your authority to push me into a corner, you should just tell me, instead of trying to have my daughter taken away from me. ”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do!” he snaps.
My nails bite my palm. I won’t cry in this office. I shouldn’t feel so hurt, but this pain in my chest won’t go away.
He stands there with a strange look on his face. “Derek.” He says the name slowly, testing it on me. “His name on the file is Derek. It’s a common one.”
My pulse trips. “So?”
He’s fishing. I don’t know what for, but he’s casting into water he’s got no business near. Every instinct I own says to grab my daughter and run for the state line.
For a long moment, he watches me. I watch him watch me, and I can’t tell what he’s hunting for. Then he steps back. “Nothing. I’ll see what I can sort out on my end.”
“Thank you.” I grab the strap of my bag and don’t let my hand shake. “And I meant it. If this becomes a thing, I’ll withdraw her. There’ll be no hard feelings, no drama. I’ll just take my kid and go.”
He looks at me for a long beat and gives nothing away. “There’s no problem,” he says quietly. “Go on home. Take care of her. I’ll handle it.”
It’s the right answer. Every word of it is reassuring. He’ll handle it. I believe he means it, but the trouble is I no longer know what “it” has become.
So I have no idea why, all the way down the corridor and out into the lot with my daughter’s sticky hand in mine, my heart won’t stop pounding.