11. Layla
— ? —
Layla
I didn’t plan this.
I specifically chose a different time, hoping to avoid him. Eight-thirty instead of my usual nine. Half an hour earlier than yesterday. Enough of a buffer that I should have been safe.
And yet here he was.
Standing at the counter. Ordering coffee like he belonged here now. Like this was his place instead of mine, his city instead of mine, his life instead of the one I’d built without him.
I grabbed Cece’s hand and started to back toward the door.
“Mommy, look!” Cece’s voice rang out across the coffee shop, high and excited. “The man with the pretty eyes!”
Stefan turned at the sound of her voice.
His whole face transformed when he saw us. The polite expression he’d been wearing for the barista melted away, replaced by raw longing and desperate hope and a tenderness that made my chest ache.
He abandoned his coffee order and crossed the shop toward us, stopping a few feet away. His eyes never left Cece’s face.
“Hey there.” He crouched down to her level, bringing himself eye to eye with her. “I remember you.”
“I remember you too.” Cece tugged free of my hand and stepped closer to him, studying his face with open curiosity. “You’re tall.”
“I am.” He smiled at her, and my heart clenched at how much that smile looked like hers.
“Why are you tall?” She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled by the concept.
“I don’t know.” He matched her serious tone. “I just grew that way.”
“Oh.” She considered this explanation for a moment. “I’m gonna be tall too. Mommy says I’m growing like a weed.”
“Is that right?” He glanced up at me, just for a second, before returning his attention to Cece.
“Uh huh.” She nodded vigorously. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.” He answered without hesitation. “What’s yours?”
“Pink.” She paused. “No, purple.” Another pause. “No, pink.”
“Pink is a good choice.” He was still crouched at her level, his knees probably aching against the hard floor, but he showed no sign of wanting to stand up.
“Do you like butterflies?” Cece asked, already moving on to her next topic of interest.
“I do.” He nodded solemnly. “Do you?”
“I love butterflies.” She spread her arms wide to demonstrate the extent of her love. “They’re so pretty. Do butterflies sleep?”
“I think so.” He tilted his head, pretending to consider the question carefully. “They probably sleep on flowers.”
“That’s so cute.” Cece giggled. “I want to sleep on a flower.”
“You might be too big for that.”
“Maybe when I’m little again.”
“You can’t get little again, baby.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Why not?” Cece turned to look at me, her brow furrowed.
“Because that’s not how growing works.” I tried to keep my voice light. “You only grow bigger, not smaller.”
“That’s sad.” She turned back to Stefan. “Do you have a dog?”
“I don’t.” He shook his head. “Do you?”
“No, but I want one.” She held up her fingers, counting off her requirements. “I want a fluffy one. With floppy ears. And a waggy tail.”
“That sounds like a great dog.”
“Why do dogs have wet noses?” She reached out and touched his nose with her finger. “Your nose isn’t wet.”
“I’m not a dog.” He laughed, and the sound loosened a knot in my chest that I hadn’t realized was there.
“I know you’re not a dog, silly.” Cece rolled her eyes with all the exasperation a three-year-old could muster. “But why do dogs have wet noses and people don’t?”
“I think it helps them smell better.” He caught her hand gently and pretended to examine her fingers. “Your nose works differently because you’re a person.”
“I have a good nose.” She pointed at her own face. “I can smell cookies from far away.”
“That’s a very useful skill.”
“Mommy makes good cookies.” Cece glanced back at me. “She puts chocolate chips in them.”
“I remember.” His voice went soft, and his eyes met mine for just a moment. “Your mommy always made the best chocolate chip cookies.”
The intimacy of that statement, the shared history it implied, made my stomach flip.
She reached out and touched his hair. “Your hair is dark like mine.”
My throat tightened.
“It is.” He held very still while she examined him. “We have the same color.”
“And the same eyes.” She peered into his face. “Brown like chocolate.”
“Chocolate eyes.” He smiled. “I like that.”
“Me too.” She patted his cheek. “You’re nice. I like you.”
“I like you too, Cece.” His voice cracked on her name.
I watched them together, and a fissure opened in my chest. They looked so natural with each other.
Father and daughter. Anyone looking at them would see it instantly.
He answered every question she asked with complete sincerity.
He treated each random thought that popped into her head as worthy of serious consideration.
He gave her his full attention, his complete focus, as if nothing in the world mattered more than discussing whether butterflies sleep and why dogs have wet noses.
He was good with her.
He was so good with her.
And I hated it.
I hated that I couldn’t find a single reason to keep them apart. I hated that my daughter was falling in love with a man I wasn’t sure I could trust. I hated that watching them together made me question everything I thought I knew about who Stefan really was.
The man kneeling on the floor of this coffee shop, patiently explaining to a three-year-old why people can’t shrink back to baby size, didn’t match that voice from the recording at all.
“We need to go, baby.” I forced the words out, hating myself for interrupting them.
“But Mommy...” Cece’s face fell.
“Say goodbye.” I reached for her hand.
“Do I have to?” She looked back at Stefan with pleading eyes.
“Your mommy’s right.” He stood up slowly, his knees cracking from being crouched for so long. “You should go. But maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
“Promise?” She held out her pinky.
He looked at me, asking permission with his eyes. I gave the smallest nod.
He hooked his pinky through hers. “Promise.”
“Okay.” She grinned at him. “Bye bye, pretty eyes man.”
Stefan laughed, but the sound came out wet and choked. “Bye, Cece.”
I took her hand and led her toward the door, not trusting myself to look back at him.
“Mommy, wait.” Cece tugged against my grip.
“What is it, baby?”
“I didn’t give him a hug.” She pulled free and ran back to Stefan before I could stop her.
She crashed into his legs and wrapped her arms around his knees, squeezing tight. Stefan froze for a moment, his whole body going rigid with shock. Then he bent down and hugged her back, his large hands gentle against her small frame.
“Thank you,” Cece mumbled against his leg.
“Thank you for talking to me.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You’re the best conversation I’ve had in a long time.”
She let go and ran back to me, grabbing my hand again. “Okay, now we can go.”
I didn’t look at Stefan as we left. I couldn’t.
But I heard him. I heard the ragged breath he took. I heard the soft sound that might have been a sob. And I pretended I didn’t.
The car ride to daycare felt endless.
“Stefan was nice.” She played with the buckle of her seatbelt. “He listened to me. Not everyone listens.”
“I know, baby.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Some grownups just say uh huh and don’t really listen.” Cece’s voice was matter-of-fact. “But he really listened.”
“He did.”
“Is he gonna come back?” She pressed her face against the window, watching the buildings pass by.
“I don’t know.” The words felt like glass in my throat.
“I want him to come back.” She turned to look at me. “Can you make him come back?”
“It’s not that simple, baby.”
“Why not?”
“Because grownup things are complicated.”
“That’s silly.” She crossed her arms. “If you want someone to come back, you just ask them. That’s not complicated.”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
We pulled into the daycare parking lot and I killed the engine. My hands were shaking as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
“Come on, baby.” I got out and opened her door, lifting her from the car seat. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around my neck as I carried her toward the building.
I set her down at the entrance and she immediately grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the door.
“Mommy?” She stopped suddenly, looking up at me with those big brown eyes.
“Yes, baby?” I crouched down to her level, just like Stefan had done in the coffee shop.
“Is he my daddy?”
The question hit me with the force of a physical blow. My heart stopped beating. My lungs stopped working. The whole world narrowed down to my daughter’s face and the innocent curiosity in her eyes.
“What makes you ask that, baby?” My voice came out strangled.
“He looks like me.” She touched her own cheek.
“The dimple.” I couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
I knelt on the concrete, my knees scraping against the rough surface. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
How could I lie to her? How could I look into my daughter’s face and tell her that the man she’d just hugged wasn’t her father? How could I keep this secret any longer when she was standing right in front of me, asking for the truth?
“Yes, baby.” The words tore out of me. “He’s your daddy.”
Cece smiled.
It was the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face. Bright and pure and devastating in its joy. Her whole face lit up, her eyes sparkling, her little body practically vibrating with happiness.
“I have a daddy?” She bounced on her toes.
“You have a daddy.” Tears were streaming down my face now. I couldn’t stop them.
“I have a daddy!” She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. “I have a daddy like Madison and Tyler and Emma!”
“You do, baby.” I held her tight, my face buried in her hair.
She pulled back and looked at me, her expression suddenly serious. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“It’s complicated, baby.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Mommy and Daddy had some problems, and I didn’t know how to explain it to you.”
“But he’s here now.” She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. “So the problems are fixed.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes it is.” She patted my cheek. “He came back. That means he wants to be my daddy. And I want him to be my daddy. So the problems are fixed.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Mommy?” She tugged on my shirt.
“Yes, baby?”
“I like Daddy.” Her smile returned, even bigger than before. “Thank you for bringing him to me.”
I pulled her into another hug, holding her so tight she squirmed.
“You’re squishing me, Mommy.”
“Sorry, baby.” I loosened my grip but didn’t let go. “I just love you so much.”
“I love you too.” She kissed my cheek. “And I love Daddy.”
The words were a knife in my heart. She’d known him for twenty minutes. Two conversations in a coffee shop. And already she loved him.
Was that genetics? Some deep biological recognition of the man who’d helped create her?
Or was it just that Stefan was exactly the kind of father every little girl deserved? Patient and kind and attentive. Willing to kneel on a hard floor and discuss whether clouds taste like cotton candy.
“Can I tell my friends?” Cece was practically dancing now. “Can I tell them I have a daddy?”
“Yes, baby.” I wiped my eyes again. “You can tell them.”
“Yay!” She hugged me one more time, then pulled away and ran toward the daycare door. “Bye, Mommy! I’m gonna tell everyone about my daddy!”
I watched her disappear inside, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
I’d spent three years protecting her from a man I thought was a monster.
Now I was starting to wonder if the monster had been a lie.
And if Stefan wasn’t the villain I’d believed him to be, then what the hell had actually happened four years ago?