15.0 #2
I gave him a half-smile sharp enough to cut. "And you've been petty. Guess we're both guilty."
Something flickered across his face—annoyance, maybe surprise. He pushed off the frame, stepped closer, not too close but enough to make the air feel crowded.
"You think this place runs on moods?" he asked. "You think clients don't notice when you're checked out?"
My laugh came thin. "Oh, so that's what this is. Concern."
"I'm just saying—"
"No." I lifted a hand, cut him off before he could make it sound noble. "You don't get to pull me off clients in front of everybody and then play boss-of-the-year about focus."
Silence stretched. He didn't step back, but he didn't move closer either. Just held my gaze with something unreadable.
Finally, I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder. "I'm going to pick up my daughter."
His jaw ticked. "Don't be late tomorrow."
I let out a humorless breath, turned, and walked out before I said something I couldn't take back.
The night air met me at the door, sharp and cool. I welcomed it like a clean slate, like a reminder there were better things waiting—little arms around my neck, a voice that called me Mommy without judgment attached.
The daycare door was always the best part of my day. Bright artwork taped to the windows, paper sunflowers curling at the edges, the smell of crayons and disinfectant drifting out. My chest softened just stepping inside.
"Mommy!"
I didn't even get two steps before Alina barreled into me, curls bouncing. Her arms wrapped around my legs, squeezing with all the strength in her tiny body.
"There's my girl." I bent down, kissing the crown of her head. She smelled like finger paint and animal crackers. "Did you terrorize your teachers today?"
Her eyes went wide. "Nooo," she said, drawing the word out with a mischievous smile that meant yes.
One of the aides passing by gave me a look that said everything. I shook my head, laughing under my breath.
The drive home was our usual chorus. Bet in the back seat, seatbelt half-twisted, talking about randomness and how she didn't like the snack today.
For a minute, it felt easy. Just the two of us, no salon, no men circling me like they had some claim, no ghosts of past choices tugging at my ribs.
Just us.
At a red light, my phone lit up in the cup holder.
Julian.
Alina was still humming to herself, kicking her sneakers against the seat. I swiped it open.
"Hello?"
"Hey stranger." Julian's voice, warm, familiar. A smile before he even finished the words.
I adjusted in my seat, easing the volume down on the radio. "Julian. Hi."
"You busy tonight?"
I glanced in the rearview again. Alina was trying to balance a Goldfish cracker on her nose, completely unaware.
"Define busy," I said.
He chuckled. "I was thinking about stopping by. I heard what happened today at the shop."
I rolled my lip between my teeth, not answering right away.
Because part of me wanted to say yes. Part of me wanted the normalcy of an old friend, the kind who'd known me before any of this mess. But another part of me couldn't shake the weight of Brooks's voice from earlier, low and deliberate, like it had stamped itself in my ear.
"You there?" Julian asked.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I'll text you when we get in, okay?"
"Sounds good. Don't leave me hanging."
I hung up just as the light turned green.
By the time I got Alina settled with a plate of food and a blanket fort half-built on the couch, the knock came at the door.
Julian leaned against the frame when I opened it, hoodie half-zipped, grin easy. "Hey my loves."
Alina squealed from the couch. "Guncle!"
"Ah, my favorite girl." He bent down, arms open wide as she launched into them, nearly knocking him backward. He spun her once before setting her down, her laugh echoing through the room.
I shook my head, a smile tugging despite myself. "She has too much energy tonight."
He dropped onto the couch beside her fort, helping adjust the cushions. "So. How was daycare, superstar?"
While Alina launched into her stories again, I ducked into the kitchen, poured two glasses of water. By the time I came back, Julian was sprawled across the couch with her tucked into his side, both giggling over something on the TV.
He glanced up at me then, grin fading just enough. "Jamal called me earlier."
I paused mid-step. "Oh?"
"He said things at the shop got... tense today."
I exhaled through my nose, set the cups down on the coffee table. "That's one way to put it."
Julian waited, patient. He always had that quiet, steady way of leaving space, like he knew I'd fill it eventually.
I dropped onto the chair across from them, rubbing a hand over my face. "Kian pulled a stunt. Ignored me in front of a client. Made it real clear It's his show."
Julian's brows pulled together. "Why?"
"That's the thing." I shrugged, frustration clawing at my throat. "He asked me to be his date at an event and I said no. Ever since then he's just been weird as hell."
Julian's jaw tightened. "You tell him about himself?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "Tried. He just doubled down, gave me that boss act."
Alina interrupted with a dramatic "Ugh, bosses," which made both of us laugh for real.
Julian reached over, nudged her curls. Then his gaze flicked back to me, softer now. "You don't deserve that, Mira."
My throat pinched. I nodded, looking down at my hands. "I know."
He didn't press. Just sat there with me, Alina leaning against him like he was part of the furniture, like he belonged.
And maybe that was the worst part. That it felt so easy, here in this little bubble, even with the shop on my back and a storm waiting somewhere else I couldn't say out loud.
The TV buzzed in the background, some family sitcom rerun Alina had insisted on. A dad in a polo was bumbling his way through a tea party with his daughter, letting her smear lipstick across his face. The laugh track filled the room.
Alina tilted her head, watching for a long moment. Then she twisted around, eyes big as she looked up at Julian.
"Juju," she said, serious now. "Are you my dad?"
The air in the room snapped tight.
Julian froze, hand hovering mid-air where he'd been about to ruffle her curls again. His smile faltered, eyes flicking toward me before darting back to her.
I felt my stomach lurch. "Alina—"
She blinked between us, waiting.
Julian cleared his throat, soft but steady. "Nah, munchkin. I'm your guncle. That's better than being a dad, don't you think?" He forced a grin, pulling her into his side again. "Means I get to play with you and spoil you, and then your mom gets to do all the hard stuff."
Alina giggled, satisfied, and went back to her cereal like the question had been nothing.
But Julian's eyes cut back to me over her head. Something unsaid, heavy, caught in the space between us.
I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands, pretending to be interested in the half-empty glass of water on the table.
The laugh track kept rolling, too loud in the silence that followed.
"Alright, baby girl," I said, clearing my throat, keeping my voice steady. "Why don't you go upstairs and pick out what you want to wear to bed? Pajamas, princess dress, whatever you want."
Alina hopped off the couch without hesitation, still humming from the sitcom's laugh track. "Okay, Mommy!" Her little feet thudded on the stairs, the sound fading until the house was just quiet again.
Julian leaned back against the couch, arms folded now, watching me. The easy grin he usually wore was gone, replaced with something careful. "Mira."
I rubbed at my temples, exhaling hard. "I know. I know what you're about to say."
He didn't speak, just waited.
I sat down across from him, elbows braced on my knees. The words came out raw, quieter than I meant them to. "I've been speaking to her dad."
Julian's brows lifted, but he didn't interrupt.
"He doesn't know," I continued, my throat tightening.
"Anything. Not about her, not about... how old she is, nothing. And I feel like the worst person in the world every time I hear his voice."
I pressed my palms together like prayer, staring at the floor.
"But I'm scared. Julian, I'm so damn scared."
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his voice even but weighted. "Scared of what? Him? Or what happens after he knows?"
I blinked at him, my chest tightening. "Both."
Julian's gaze softened, but his voice didn't. "Mira, you can't keep that secret forever. That's not fair to him. And it's sure as hell not fair to her."
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look at the stairs. "I know. But saying it out loud—making it real—it feels like the second I do that, everything changes. And I don't know if I can handle it."
Julian leaned back again, exhaling through his nose, shaking his head slowly. "Then you need to figure out when you will be ready. Because you're running out of time."
I closed my eyes for a second, his words pressing in, heavier than I wanted to admit.
Upstairs, I heard Alina's little voice sing out: "Mommy, I can't find my unicorn pajamas!"
I stood quickly, glad for the excuse to move, to breathe. "Coming, baby."
But even as I climbed the stairs, Julian's voice followed me, quiet but unshakable. You're running out of time.