Chapter 20 Hide and Seek #2
A few minutes later, Hazel returns with an armful of chaos—sparkly stickers, two glue sticks, and a roll of tape. She beams like she just robbed a craft store. I squint at the glitter glue like it’s a ticking bomb.
“You think it’s smart to arm her with the craft equivalent of a Molotov cocktail?”
Rachel leans against the doorframe, smug. “Oh relax. It’s all washable… I think.”
I turn around and Hazel has one of the promotional boxes open and is wearing a band t-shirt like a cape, and there are tour booklets taped to my desk.
“Oh, no, no, no, this desk is made of reclaimed oak, and it’ll peel like sunburn.” I try to gently pull one off. “Shit.”
“Shit!” Hazel says, and I spin around.
“You cannot repeat that to your mother,” I scold.
“Why not?” she asks.
“Because it’s a bad word.”
“But you said it.”
I can’t believe I’m arguing with a toddler. “I’m an adult. Let’s keep this a secret between us.”
“Mommy says to never keep secrets from her.”
I narrow my eyes at her. I mean she’s not wrong, but Morgan will skin me alive. “How about I take you around the office with a pit stop at the vending machines and you can pick out whatever you want?”
Hazel smiles and nods enthusiastically.
The next hour and a half flies by. We make a pit stop in the tech department where Aron, our resident coding genius, creates a digital avatar that looks exactly like Hazel—purple dress, curly hair, and all.
She’s absolutely thrilled, especially when he animates it to dance across the screen.
We visit the recording booth where she gets to wear oversized headphones and pretend to be a star.
By the time we hit the marketing department, she’s collected business cards from half the staff and has somehow convinced the design team to let her test out their new stylus pens.
After our extended tour and raiding the vending machines, we sit side-by-side in the lounge. A pile of M&M’s sits between us, Hazel separating all the colors and giving me the brown ones.
My phone buzzes with an email from our legal team about the Ivy Nova contract negotiation—something that would normally have me drop everything.
I look at the time—we’ve been at this for a while now.
I look at Hazel, who’s carefully arranging her candy by color, and silence the notification.
The contract can wait. This moment feels more important.
She kicks her feet under the chair and says, “I like you.”
“Why’s that?” I pop a candy in my mouth.
“You say bad words! And I got candy! And I can wiggle!”
“Those are pretty low standards,” I say dryly.
She giggles, then grows serious. “Are you Mommy’s boyfriend?”
I choke on the M&M. “No,” I say, careful not to sound disappointed.
“Why not?”
I blink at her. “That’s… complicated.”
Hazel pops another M&M in her mouth and says matter-of-factly, “Rachel says Mommy doesn’t want a boyfriend who needs a booster seat at board meetings.”
Jesus, they were only gone for 2 minutes.
“What’s a board meeting?” she asks, shaking her head, brown curls bouncing.
“It’s like story-time for grown-ups.” I steal a green M&M and she glares at me, cupping the candy protectively.
“So, why’d you bite the kid at school?”
She shrugs and stuffs another candy in her mouth.
“You got to ask me a hard question. It’s only fair.”
She scowls at me. “I wanted Mommy’s attention.”
I rub my jaw. “She’s working hard right now to save her dad’s company. That’s a big deal, Hazel. She’s doing it for you too.”
“I don’t care about the company,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want my mommy.”
“I don’t blame ya, kid,” I say casually and cough. “I mean, I get why you would want your mom…” Jesus. “What I mean is…”
“I have a dad too,” she says suddenly. “But he lives far away.”
This feels like dangerous territory. “What do you miss most about New York?”
She thinks for a second, then says, “Living with my mom and my dad.”
Well, fuck.
“Yeah, but just because you don’t live together anymore doesn’t change how much they love you,” I explain.
She pushes the M&M’s around on the table, but I know she’s listening to me.
“I’ve got two dads.” I hold up two fingers. “You’d think I’d have an unlimited supply of corny jokes and be a master at lawn care, but no, all I got was a chronic case of micromanaging and a borderline obsession with hair product.”
Hazel tilts her head. “That’s too many dads.”
I huff a laugh. “And just when you think it couldn’t get more complicated, I’ve got a brother now.”
“What’s his name?” she asks.
“Liam.”
“Is he funny like you?”
Her question surprises me and affects me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “I don’t know,” I admit, because I don’t know anything about Liam other than he plays the drums.
“Why not?” She quirks her head to the side, curls spilling over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know about him until recently.”
“How come?”
I’m starting to think she’s fucking with me.
“It’s a long story,” I say.
“I’m listening.”
Now I know she’s fucking with me.
Oh, what the hell. I settle in further to the lounge chair, crossing an ankle over my thigh.
“He emails me out of the blue. ‘Hey, I’m your biological brother you never knew about, you wanna hang out?’ He expects me to be like, ‘Sure, let me give you a record deal while you’re at it.
’ I shake my head. “It’s not that simple. ”
“Sounds simple.” She shrugs.
“It’s not. I had a grip on who I was—or at least I thought I did. Everything made sense until he barged into my life uninvited—literally. He shows up at this club wanting to talk and,” I pause, thinking it through, “I guess I was kind of a jerk.”
Hazel munches on an M&M, thinking. “Why were you a jerk?”
“Because he caught me off guard and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
She nods solemnly. “Mommy says use your words. No biting!”
I raise an eyebrow. Pretty solid advice. “If your career as a velociraptor doesn’t work out, you could be a therapist.”
She studies me like she’s trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about. “What’s a therapist?”
“Never mind.”
I look down at this little girl with her wide, innocent eyes and curly hair reminding me of Morgan, and a warmth unfurls inside me.
My relationship with my dads has always been complicated. One pushing too hard, one giving too much space. I learned to keep parts of myself separate, compartmentalized. Business in one box, personal in another. But lately, those neat categories don’t seem to fit anymore.
It’s strange how a four-year-old can cut through all my carefully constructed defenses with a simple question. It’s possible I’ve been overcomplicating things—with Liam, with Morgan, with everything.
“I’m bored,” she whines, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Wanna play a game?”
Hazel nods. “Hide and seek?”
Hmm, not what I was envisioning, but I don’t have any better ideas. I stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in my jeans. “Alright. I’ll count, you hide.”
Hazel grins, jumping down from the chair. “And no peeking!”
I cover my eyes, count to twenty, and when I open them… she’s gone.
Cue the panic. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
I tear through the office checking under tables, behind filing cabinets, even inside the sleep pods.
“Hazel?”
Nothing. Shit!
I flag down a couple of passing employees. “Anyone see a pint-sized terror in a purple dress?” I dig my phone out of my pocket and pull up the picture of the avatar Aron in tech made. “She looks like this.” I shove the phone in their faces.
They shake their heads and move on quickly. “Fuck!”
Rachel leans against the breakroom door, smirking. “Lose something?”
“Pffft, no,” I say, casually grabbing a water from the fridge while I quietly implode on the inside. She’ll never let me live it down. “We’re playing a game.”
“Mmhm.” She eyes me. “What game? Maybe I wanna play.”
“Jesus,” I drag a hand through my hair. “We were playing hide and seek and now I can’t find her.”
“You break quicker than my kids on Christmas morning,” she laughs.
“There’s no time for your judgment. Help me find the little monster.” I push past her into the hallway. I’m wasting time. She could be anywhere.
“Damn. First your dignity, now a toddler. You’re really losing everything today,” Rachel says, following me.
“She’s four. How hard can she be to find?”
“She’s also smarter than you.”
I’m about to lose it when the glass doors push open, and there she is—hand in hand with Morgan, looking completely unbothered.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m dead.
Morgan eyes me, and I swear there’s a hint of maniacal amusement there, like a predator playing with its food before it makes the final kill. “Lose something?” she deadpans.
I school my face into neutral. “We were playing hide and seek.” I shrug.
“How’d that work out for you?”
Rachel coughs to cover her laugh.
Morgan kneels in front of Hazel, casually inspecting her for damage. “Did you have fun?”
Hazel nods enthusiastically. “We went everywhere! I got to be in the computer and wear big headphones in the music room and draw on the special tablets!” She leans in closer, “And Dylan says I’m a good therapist and I’m not allowed to say shit.”
“Okay, well… technically that’s correct but taken out of context.” I narrow my eyes at Hazel, the rat.
Morgan lifts her gaze to me, unimpressed. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck.
“She doesn’t have a lip ring, so I’d say it’s a win,” I offer with a smile.
Morgan crosses her arms, still not entirely sold.
“Why don’t you go gather your things and put them in your backpack,” she says to Hazel. “We have dance class tonight. We can’t be late again.” Hazel flits off to my office.
Morgan taps the tip of her heel on the tile, and I can sense a bit of stress.
Rachel coughs. “Ok, I’ll just…” she points down the hall. “Oh hell, who are we kidding? I’ll be around the corner listening.” She struts away, leaving Morgan and me alone.