Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“I was right there,” she continued, her voice getting higher, faster.
“I was watching her, but I should have been closer. I should have been able to catch her. I should have—God, I should have done so many things differently. I should have suggested a different activity. I should have known the aerodynamics of skateboarding was too advanced. I should have—”
“Mrs. Lyon,” Ms. Rodriguez said, her voice cutting through Cate’s spiral. “Accidents happen. I’m more interested in how it was handled. Was it reported?”
“She was treated immediately,” I said. “Cate took her to the hospital, and the break was set and cast. It’s all documented in her medical records. I can provide copies if needed.”
“That would be helpful.” She made another note. “And there were no complications?”
“None. It’s healing perfectly. She’ll have the cast off in another few weeks.”
From the doorway, I heard a sound.
A cough.
I turned my head slightly and saw Fitz, his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking.
He’s laughing.
He’s actually laughing.
I’m going to murder him.
I’m going to murder him with a scalpel.
A dull scalpel.
Nathan was next to him, his face red, clearly trying not to laugh.
Hayden sounded suspiciously like he was choking.
They think this shit is funny.
They think Cate having a complete meltdown in front of a social worker is FUNNY.
I shot Fitz a look that could have melted steel.
He coughed again, harder, and turned away.
“I’m sorry,” Cate was saying, her hands gesturing wildly now.
“I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.
I should have—I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head.
A thousand different ways I could have prevented it.
If I’d just been standing closer, or if I’d suggested rollerblades instead, or if I’d—”
“Cate.” My voice was firm. “Stop.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and panicked.
“It was an accident,” I said again, slower this time. “You did everything right. You kept her calm. You stayed with her throughout the entire process. You did exactly what you should have done.”
“But—”
“No buts.” I turned to Ms. Rodriguez. “My wife takes excellent care of Megan. This was an unfortunate accident, properly handled, properly documented. If you’d like to see the medical records, I can have them sent over today.”
Ms. Rodriguez studied us for a long moment, her pen tapping against her clipboard.
Say something.
Tell us this isn’t a problem.
Tell us we’re not losing Megan over a broken arm that will heal perfectly.
“I appreciate your transparency,” she said finally. “I will need to see those records. And I’ll need to speak with Megan privately for a few minutes, if that’s alright?”
Privately.
She wants to talk to Megan alone.
To see if our stories match.
To see if Megan is afraid of us.
“Of course,” I said.
We stepped out into the hallway, leaving Megan with Ms. Rodriguez.
The moment the door closed, Cate turned to me, her face pale.
“She’s going to take her away,” she whispered. “She’s going to think I’m negligent, and she’s going to take Megan away, and it will be all my fault.”
“She’s not going to take her away.” I pulled her against me, my hand on the back of her head. “Breathe, Cate. Just breathe.”
“I can’t. I can’t breathe. I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” My voice was low and steady. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. With me.”
I breathed with her, slow and controlled, feeling her gradually start to match my rhythm.
From downstairs, I heard a burst of laughter, quickly muffled.
Fitz.
That was definitely Fitz.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered.
“What?” Cate’s voice was muffled against my chest.
“Nothing. Just... breathe.”
We stood there for what felt like an eternity but was probably only five minutes before the door opened.
Ms. Rodriguez stepped out, Megan behind her, still smiling.
Good.
That’s good.
If Megan’s smiling, that’s good.
“Thank you, Megan,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“You’re welcome! Wanna see my bathroom? It has fish everywhere.”
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch.
That’s my girl.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “But thank you for the offer.”
We walked back downstairs, where my colleagues had arranged themselves in what I assumed they thought was a casual, natural configuration.
Hayden was now sitting on the couch, on the actual couch this time, not the arm, looking like he’d been there all along.
Nathan was in the kitchen, holding a glass of water he’d apparently poured himself.
Fitz had returned, his expression now under control, though his eyes were still suspiciously bright, and Julien remained by the coat closet, still guarding the evidence of our teepee disaster.
Ms. Rodriguez surveyed the room one more time, her eyes moving from the gleaming kitchen to the slightly askew couch cushion to the trail of glitter that caught the light.
She sees it.
She sees all of it.
She knows something’s off.
“Dr. Lyon,” she said, turning to face me. “How long have you and Mrs. Lyon been married?”
Here it is.
The question I’ve been dreading.
“Not long,” I said carefully. “Our relationship developed quickly. When you know, you know.”
Smooth, Gabriel.
Very convincing.
“And you were together before the custody filing?”
“We were... involved,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The marriage happened quickly once we realized how serious we were about each other.”
And by serious, I mean ‘desperate to keep my daughter.’
And by involved, I mean ‘sleeping together while she was my employee.’
God, this sounds worse every time I explain it.
“I see.” More notes. Always more notes. “And, Mrs. Lyon, you were employed as Megan’s nanny before the marriage?”
“Yes,” Cate said, her voice small. “But it wasn’t—I mean, we didn’t—it wasn’t inappropriate.
We were professional. Very professional.
Until we weren’t. But in a good way. A consensual way.
A very adult, appropriate, consensual way that didn’t affect my ability to care for Megan.
Who I love. Very much. Too much? Can you love a child too much?
That’s probably not a thing. I’m sure it’s fine.
The amount I love her. Which is a lot. A normal amount. A normal, healthy, appropriate amount.”
Cate.
Please.
Stop talking.
From the couch, Fitz made a sound that might have been a cough or might have been him dying.
I didn’t look at him.
If I looked at him, I would lose it.
“Well,” Ms. Rodriguez said, lowering her clipboard. “I think I have everything I need for now.”
That’s it?
That’s all she’s going to say?
No indication of whether we passed or failed?
No hint about whether she’s going to recommend removing Megan from our care?
“I’ll be submitting my report to the court within the next few days,” she continued. “You should hear from your attorney after that.”
“Thank you,” I said, my hand finding Cate’s again, holding tight. “We appreciate your time.”
“Of course.” She moved toward the door, then paused. “Dr. Lyon, Mrs. Lyon, I can see that you both care deeply for Megan. That’s clear. But I would encourage you to... perhaps work on managing stress in healthier ways.”
She glanced at the kitchen, the suspiciously clean kitchen, and then at Cate.
She knows.
She knows we were panicking.
She knows something was wrong.
“We will,” I said. “Thank you.”
She nodded, then left.
The door closed behind her.
For a moment, no one moved.
No one spoke.
Then Fitz burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, doubling over. “The NINJA. The shirtless ninja with the butter knife. And the TOAST. She told a social worker about her toast consumption.”
“It wasn’t funny,” Cate said, but her voice was shaking.
“It was hilarious,” Nathan said, grinning. “I’m sorry, Cate, but it was. ‘Very abdominal.’ You said, ‘very abdominal.’”
“I was nervous!”
“You told her about your recurring sex dream!” Hayden added, his shoulders shaking. “To a SOCIAL WORKER. About a NINJA.”
“It’s not a sex dream!” Cate protested. “It’s an anxiety dream that happens to feature a shirtless man!”
“With impressive abs,” Fitz added helpfully. “Very defined. Very... abdominal.”
“I hate all of you,” Cate said, but I could see her mouth twitching.
“And the broken arm,” Nathan continued. “Oh my God, the broken arm. ‘I should have suggested rollerblades.’ Like that would have prevented a five-year-old from breaking something.”
“Children fall,” Julien said, speaking for the first time since Ms. Rodriguez had left. “It’s what they do. It’s practically their primary function.”
“Thank you, Julien,” I said.
“Though I have to say,” he continued, “the part where you told her about your ‘other bedroom activities’ was inspiring. Really set the tone for the entire visit.”
“I didn’t mean to say that!” Cate wailed.
“And yet you did,” Fitz said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You absolutely did. In front of a woman here to judge your fitness as a parent.”
“I’m going to stress-bake,” Cate announced. “I’m going to stress-bake until I can’t remember any of this.”
“Please don’t,” Nathan said. “The kitchen is finally clean. It took me fifteen minutes to load that dishwasher. Do you know how many mixing bowls you own? It’s excessive. You have a mixing bowl problem.”
“I like to bake!”
“Clearly.”
Megan tugged on my hand. “Daddy? Is everything okay?”
I looked down at her, at her big eyes and her slightly mussed braids and her cast-covered arm.
My daughter.
My family.
Everything I’m fighting for.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” I said, picking her up and holding her close. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
I hoped I was right.
Because the truth was, I had no idea if we’d passed or failed.
No idea if Ms. Rodriguez had seen through our panic to the real family underneath.
No idea if Cate’s ninja dream confession and my colleagues’ barely suppressed laughter had cost us everything.
All I knew was that we’d survived the visit.
And now we had to wait.