Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Fitz grinned. “There’s the Gabriel I know. Decisive. Determined. Slightly terrifying when he sets his mind to something.”
“I’m not terrifying.”
“You’re absolutely terrifying. It’s one of your best qualities.”
We pulled into my driveway at 12:14 PM.
Forty-six minutes until Child Services arrived.
Nathan and Hayden pulled in behind us. Julien was already on his phone, hopefully calling for reinforcements.
I stood there, staring at my front door, and felt something close to panic rise in my chest.
What if it’s not enough?
What if we can’t clean it up in time?
What if they take one look at the chaos and decide I’m not fit to raise my own daughter?
“Gabriel.” Fitz’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Breathe. We’ve got this.”
“You don’t know what it looks like in there.”
“Then let’s find out.”
I unlocked the door.
And immediately understood why Dante had needed nine circles of Hell. Because this was definitely one of them.
The entryway was covered in shoes—Megan’s light-up sneakers, Cate’s running shoes, and my dress shoes that had somehow migrated from the closet. There was a coat rack that appeared to be wearing more clothes than it was designed to hold.
The living room was worse.
The couch-cushion fort was still standing, somehow defying both physics and common sense. Glitter drawings covered every available surface, the coffee table, the side tables, taped to the walls in a display that looked like a preschool art gallery had exploded.
There were books everywhere. Toys scattered across the floor. A tea party setup on the coffee table, complete with plastic cups and saucers and what appeared to be actual cookies.
The dining room featured the teepee, an impressive structure made from bedsheets, chairs, and approximately forty balloons. Inside, I could see pillows, stuffed animals, and what looked like a flashlight.
And the kitchen.
Oh God, the kitchen.
Every surface was covered in baked goods.
Cookies on cooling racks. Muffins in tins.
What appeared to be three different types of bread.
A cake that was either chocolate or had been burned beyond recognition.
The sink was full of dishes. The counters were dusted with flour.
There was a mixing bowl on the floor that had apparently been claimed by some kind of baking-related disaster.
“Holy shit,” Nathan breathed behind me.
“Yeah,” I said.
“This is...” Hayden trailed off, apparently unable to find words.
“Catastrophic,” I finished. “I told you.”
“Where are Cate and Megan?” Julien asked.
As if on cue, I heard laughter from upstairs.
Then Cate’s voice: “Okay, but if we’re going to have a fashion show, you need to let me do your hair properly.”
“Can I wear the sparkly dress?”
“You can wear whatever you want, sweetie.”
More laughter.
They had no idea Child Services was coming.
They had no idea that in forty-three minutes, someone was going to walk through that door and judge whether this house—this chaos—was suitable for raising a child.
“Alright,” Fitz said, clapping his hands together.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. Nathan, you’re on living room duty.
Get those cushions back on the couch, collect the toys, take down the drawings carefully, because we don’t want to upset Megan.
Hayden, you’ve got the dining room. Dismantle the teepee, fold the sheets, deal with the balloons.
Julien, kitchen. Start with the dishes, then clear the counters.
I’ll handle the entryway and make sure the rest of the house looks like something to gander at. ”
“What about me?” I asked.
“You’re going to go upstairs and tell your wife that Child Services is coming in forty-three minutes and she needs to make herself and Megan fit for royalty.” He paused. “And, Gabriel? Try not to freak her out more than she already is.”
“I’m not going to freak her out.”
“You’re giving off enough nervous energy to light up half of London. Take a moment, get your shit together, and then head up there.”
He was right.
I was spiraling.
I, Gabriel Lyon, who prided myself on control and composure and never letting emotions interfere with logic, was spiraling.
Because I was about to lose everything.
My daughter.
My wife.
The life we’d built in these past few weeks, this chaotic and messy and nothing like what I’d planned, but somehow perfect anyway.
“Gabriel.” Nathan’s voice was gentle. “We’ve got this. Go talk to Cate. We’ll handle the rest.”
I nodded, then turned and took the stairs two at a time.
I found Cate and Megan in Megan’s room, surrounded by what appeared to be every piece of dress-up clothing we owned.
Megan was wearing a princess dress, a feather boa, and a tiara.
Cate was attempting to braid her hair while Megan bounced excitedly.
They both looked happy.
Completely, unselfconsciously happy.
And I was about to ruin it.
“Daddy!” Megan spotted me first. “Look! Cate’s doing my hair for the fashion show!”
“I see that. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” I met Cate’s eyes over Megan’s head. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Her smile faltered. “Is everything okay?”
“Megan, why don’t you pick out some accessories for your outfit?” I said. “Cate and I need to talk in the hallway.”
“Okay!” She bounced toward her jewelry box, completely oblivious.
Cate followed me into the hallway, and I saw the exact moment she registered my expression.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was tight. “Did something happen? Is it Tonya? Did Richard—”
“Child Services is coming to the house in forty minutes.”
She went white. “What?”
“Anthony called. They scheduled a surprise home visit for one PM. They’re going to evaluate whether our home is suitable for Megan.”
“But…” She looked toward the stairs, toward the chaos below. “But the house is…”
“I know.”
“There’s glitter everywhere. And the teepee. And the baking. Oh God, the baking. There are cookies on every surface. They’re going to think I’m insane. They’re going to think—”
“Cate.” I caught her hands, which were shaking. “Breathe.”
“I can’t breathe. I’m having a panic attack. This is a panic attack. Oh God, we’re going to lose Megan because I stress-baked too many cookies and built a teepee in the dining room and—”
“Cate.” I pulled her closer, forcing her to look at me. “My colleagues are downstairs right now cleaning up. Fitz, Nathan, Hayden, Julien—they all came to help. We’re going to fix this.”
“In forty minutes?”
“In thirty-eight minutes now, yes.”
“That’s not enough time. We need—I need to—” She was spiraling, her breath coming too fast. “What if they see the glitter? What if they think the house is unstable? What if they decide Megan would be better off with Tonya because at least Tonya doesn’t turn dining rooms into camping sites?”
“Then we’ll explain that you were keeping Megan entertained indoors because you were concerned about the surveillance. That you were being a good mother.”
“I’m not her mother.”
“You are.” My words came out fierce. “In every way that matters, you are. And any social worker with half a brain is going to see that.”
She stared at me, eyes wide and terrified.
“Gabriel.”
“I need you to get yourself and Megan ready. Something presentable but comfortable. Make it look like you were just having a normal day at home. Can you do that?”
She nodded, still shaking.
“And, Cate?” I cupped her face, making sure she was looking at me. “We’re going to get through this. Together. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can. And I am.” I kissed her forehead. “Now go. Get ready. I’ll handle everything else.”
She took a shaky breath, then nodded again and disappeared back into Megan’s room.
I stood there for a moment, listening to her explain to Megan that they needed to change clothes for a “special visitor,” keeping her voice light and cheerful despite the panic I knew was coursing through her.
Then I went downstairs to help my colleagues save my family.
Thirty-six minutes.
We could do this.
We had to.