Chapter 16
Maddie
I sit in my car across the street from the restaurant and watch the steel and glass high-rises of downtown Pittsburgh flash in the late-morning sun. I imagine the scene inside… clinking glasses, women’s laughter and fluffy pancakes.
Brunch, Winnie had said. Casual. Come as you are.
As I am is sweaty-palmed and two seconds from bailing.
My phone buzzes with a text from Atlas. You’ve got this. Say yes to the mimosa.
He knows how painfully awkward this is for me, and he’s not wrong to push me to do this. Deep down, I know it.
A second text comes in before I can respond. A photo of Grayce grinning with a foam Titans’ finger someone clearly dug out of a closet. Go, Mom. We’re rooting for you.
“Traitor,” I mutter, but my mouth is already curving and my chest floods with warmth, not just from the word mom but from Atlas’s inclusive declaration of support.
We’re.
As in… we.
A team.
I take a breath and exit my car, crossing the street at a crosswalk.
I take another breath and pull open the door.
The scent of citrus and coffee hits me, completely welcoming and strangely grounding.
A host barely gets out “Good morning” before a brunette with a topknot pops up in the middle of the dining room and windmills both arms like she’s guiding a plane to the gate.
Winnie.
“Maddie! Over here!” She’s already weaving between tables, a walking sunbeam, and then I’m being tugged toward a long banquette under a wall of windows. Four other women turn, smiling like they’ve been waiting for me.
Winnie squeezes me into the end seat and starts introductions before I can get nervous. “You met me. I’m the chaotic one. This is Penn’s girlfriend, Mila. She’ll feed you even if you say no.”
Mila’s blue eyes are warm. “You can say no. I just won’t hear it.”
“Willa,” Winnie continues, “our resident doctor, dates King, and is often the wild card at these brunches.”
Willa salutes with her straw. “I only ordered one weird thing today. Probably. Hi.”
“Mazzy,” Winnie goes on, “sparkles in human form. She’s got the voice of an angel and just got engaged to Foster.”
Mazzy literally shimmers in a sequined tee. She leans in. “I already love you, I can tell. Is that too much, too soon?”
“Tempe,” Winnie says, pointing at a poised redhead with a surgeon’s watch and a knowing smile. “She’s currently crazy enough to love Rafferty. She sees all, knows all, and is all.”
Tempe shakes her head. “Nope. Just good at reading people. Hi, Maddie.”
I don’t have time to respond before Winnie introduces the last woman. “And Farren”—Winnie gestures to a woman who looks like a fashion model, her smile steady and quiet—“she claims Rafferty as her brother but is more commonly known as North’s girlfriend.”
Farren’s handshake is firm. “Welcome to the jungle.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, the nerves in my voice evident. “Thank you for inviting me.”
The women beam at me, and I can see that they sense my nervousness. A server appears and within a minute slides a slender flute in front of me, gold bubbles racing to the rim. I glance at it, then at Winnie.
She tips her chin, conspiratorially. “You can do half OJ, if that feels safer.”
“I’m fine.” I hear my own voice and realize a drink would probably be relaxing. I lift the glass. “Thank you again.”
They chorus more welcomes, a flock of friendly birds.
It starts easy—menus and food.
“You must try the lemon-ricotta pancakes,” Mila insists, and I don’t argue. It sounds delicious.
“But the pastries here are practically illegal,” Willa declares.
“It’s the omelets for me,” Winnie insists and then launches into a story about Lucky trying to flip an omelet and launching it so hard, it smacked the ceiling.
And it goes on. I laugh, sipping champagne and smiling until my cheeks hurt. When I tried to talk myself out of going, Atlas kept insisting that I would love these women and I needed to step outside my comfort zone.
I still wasn’t convinced until he used stupid logic on me. “Don’t you want Grayce to have lots of friends?”
“Of course I do,” I replied without thought. “What parent wouldn’t want that?”
“Our parents,” he responded dryly, “but that’s kind of my point. Your past kept you friendless and you know that’s not how it should have been. Lead your daughter by example and start developing more relationships.”
He was so right, even though it angered me a little that he used my past against my fears. But Atlas is dogged in that way and I imagine it won’t be the last time he pushes me in such a way.
Somewhere between the first sip of bubbly and the arrival of a basket of warm biscuits, the questions begin. Not gentle, exactly, but not prying either. Just… curious and intentional.
“How are you settling in?” Tempe asks, tone so even it makes honesty apparent.
I fiddle with the napkin on my plate. “It’s different. Pittsburgh’s not Chicago. I miss my coffee place, my little grocery where the clerk would save the overripe bananas for me. I miss my work.” The last part comes out softer. “But.”
“But,” Farren prompts as she leans forward.
I picture Atlas on the floor in his sweats, Grayce belly-laughing in the swing. “But seeing Atlas with Grayce—” My throat tightens around his name. “This is where I should be. Gray wanted more than just me for his daughter.”
Mila smiles. “That’s a big but.”
“Wait. Did she just admit Atlas is—” Willa makes a whistling sound. “A butt?”
“Behave,” Tempe says with a giggle, then turns to me. “How’s Atlas doing in his new role? I can’t even imagine having a baby literally land in my lap. He’s so lucky to have you in on this.”
A smile plays at my mouth. “Surprisingly, he’s so good with Grayce. They say some people are a natural with kids, and I’m telling you, he’s a natural.”
Tempe sighs. “That’s the way it should be, right?”
Mazzy bounces, eyes huge. “Okay, but serious question. Atlas is… he’s hot. Like, objectively we all know this. But add on the dad with a baby thing, and…” She fans her face with her hand and all the women snicker. “You’ve got the whole hot dad thing going on.”
Heat crawls up my neck, traitorously revealing. “He’s—” I twist my napkin so hard it tears. “He’s confusing.”
“Confusingly hot,” Willa clarifies, delighted.
I glance around the table. These women are loud, nosy, maybe a little pushy, but not in the way that makes me want to shrink or bolt. They’re leaning in, not letting me dodge, but there’s no malice behind it. No pettiness but rather a welcome into their tight-knit club.
I would want the same for Grayce one day, and for someone who’s always kept her circle locked up, it feels startlingly safe. This is the new life I’m starting.
I exhale. Might as well jump. “He’s gorgeous. And kind. And bossy. And he cooks with suspicious spinach.”
The table laughs and it’s Winnie who pushes me for more. “Is there anything between you two?”
I think of that almost-kiss yesterday in the park and how it made things awkward between us last night because neither of us was sure what to do with it.
“I think there could be?” I admit to the ladies. “We almost kissed yesterday… at least I think that’s where it was going, but it got interrupted by Grayce attempting to take her first steps.”
“Oh, how fun,” Willa says with clapping hands.
“Forget the baby steps for now,” Tempe says. “I want to hear about the kiss.”
“Almost kiss,” I correct her. “And I’m not sure what it means. It’s complicated because we’re co-parenting and Grayce is the priority. It’s all just a little scary.”
“But scary doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Tempe says, folding her hands. “It means that it’s risky. And without great risk, we have no great reward.”
Winnie leans closer, eyes bright. “He told Lucky you’re brave. That you came to Pittsburgh when you didn’t have to, and he said that took more courage than he had.”
“He did?” My voice tilts, unsteady. It sounds as if he’s proud of me. “He kind of dared me to come today, but nicely. I’ve never had girlfriends before, and this is out of my comfort zone. He challenged me to get out of my own way.”
Willa claps again. “We love a dare. Also, we love mimosas.” She tips hers toward me. “And we definitely love a woman who’s not afraid to hold her own.”
The table turns as one, smiling at me like I’ve passed some invisible test. I laugh, nervous but warmed by the attention. I feel no judgment, just acceptance.
Part of me feels the old instincts I’ve lived by—scan for danger, stay alert, don’t get too comfortable—kicking in. If you prepare for disappointment, it won’t wreck you when it comes. It’s how I’ve always survived.
But sitting here, the mimosa glass sweating in my palm, I realize I don’t feel the usual urge to bolt.
Not completely. Maybe because Atlas has been knocking holes in my fortress for weeks now, showing me the outside world isn’t completely devoid of humanity.
Maybe because these women aren’t asking me to perform, they’re just asking me to sit with them.
And maybe for once, I don’t want to hide behind the walls.
Winnie grins. “And today you showed up.”
I exhale, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Today I showed up.” It feels enormous to admit.
It also feels… good.
Plates arrive—pancakes that smell divine, eggs sprinkled with herbs, a fruit salad that looks too pretty to eat. For a while, we just do brunch. Forks scraping plates, napkins dabbing, mimosas being sipped.
When the plates bear only crumbs and the second round of mimosas is a memory, Mila reaches into her tote. “We have something for you.”
My heart dips. “What kind of something?”
“A good something,” Winnie promises, eyes sparkling.
Mila sets a cream notecard in front of me, thick stock with a crisp edge. My name is handwritten across the front: Maddie St. James.
I try to suppress the surge of giddiness at being offered a surprise. I didn’t get birthday cards or gifts. Christmas happened to kids with parents who cared. I slip a thumb beneath the flap and slide out the card.
Maddie,