Chapter 2
Laiken
I swear under my breath as the alarm chirps and a cloud of gray smoke billows from the toaster.
“Daddy!” Elody yells, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she points at the counter. “The toast is on fire!”
“It’s not on fire,” I mutter, grabbing a dish towel and fanning the haze.
At least it isn’t yet.
I shove the window over the sink open before the whole building is evacuated. That won’t exactly make me popular with the board.
“I can barely breathe!” Elody complains, waving her hands.
“I know, bug. I’m working on it.”
After four years of parenting, I really should be better at this.
Shutting down a game-winning breakaway?
That’s easy.
Keeping one tiny human fed and dressed on six hours of sleep?
Not so much.
The toaster gives one last pathetic click before dying a sudden death. I unplug it and dump the charred remains into the sink. The toast looks more like coal than something edible.
Elody claps. “Yay! You did it, Daddy!”
“Yup,” I say dryly. “It’s a true victory for the team.”
When she continues to grin, I grab a banana from the bowl and hand it to her. “Let’s try this instead. Pretty sure it’s the breakfast of champions.”
I lift her onto the marble island, steadying her small body as she peels the banana with fierce concentration.
“’Member how Mommy used to do it?” she asks, not taking her attention off what she’s doing.
Every time she brings Sarah up, it’s a punch to the gut.
A bruise that never fully fades.
“Of course I do,” I say, making sure to keep my voice even. Elody doesn’t need to hear how the word mommy slices me wide open. Sarah left over a year ago, but some mornings it feels like she walked out yesterday. “You’ve almost got it.”
Elody nods, proud of her accomplishment. Once she’s devoured half of it, she grins, showing off the banana mush coating her teeth.
With a snort, I shake my head. “Pretty gross, El.”
Her laugh is bright and unbothered, and I take it as proof I’m doing something right. My girl is happy. Loved.
Although, it doesn’t stop the fear that I’m failing her in other ways from sneaking back in.
When the smoke alarm chirps, Elody’s eyes widen. “Daddy, it beeped again!”
“There’s nothing to worry about. It just means the air is still smoky. By the time we get home later, it’ll be fine. Promise.”
When my phone buzzes on the counter, I pick it up and glance at the screen.
Steele:
Where you at? Practice is in fifteen.
That’s when I notice the time.
Well, shit.
How are we already so far behind schedule?
“Okay.” I grab Elody’s backpack from the chair. “We’re officially late. Socks, coat, preschool. Let’s move it.”
She freezes mid-bounce. “I don’t want socks.”
“Elody…”
Her eyes widen. “They’re itchy!”
“They’re not itchy,” I mutter, not wanting to have this argument now.
“They are. They’re so itchy! I hate wearing them!”
I inhale slowly and remind myself that she’s only four. Then I crouch until we’re eye level. “How about the sparkly ones?”
Her brows slam together. “The rainbow sparkles?”
“Yep. Rainbow sparkles. You can be fancy today.”
“I thought those were for special times.”
“Well, today, running late counts as special.”
“Yay!”
My shoulders loosen as I exhale.
Disaster averted.
For now.
Five minutes later, Elody is zipped into her coat with her polar bear hat jammed over her curls, twirling in circles while we wait for the elevator. When the doors slide open, she bolts inside and nearly trips. I lunge and scoop her up before she can face-plant.
“That was close!” she says, arms locking around my neck.
“Sure was.” I press my mouth to her hair. “But I’ve got you.”
Always.
The elevator doors slide shut, and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding releases from my lungs.
The ride down is a barrage of questions about the toaster we now need to replace, along with a detailed plan for what happens on Tuesdays at school.
I barely register half of it. My mind is already sprinting ahead to practice, film, sitter coverage, travel, and how I’m supposed to hold everything together without giving the McIntyres another weapon to use against me.
Life is a juggling act, and I’m one dropped ball from imploding.
Once in the parking structure, Elody slips her hand into mine as she skips toward the Escalade. I lift her into the booster seat, buckle her in, and check the straps twice.
Then again just to be sure before giving her a kiss on the nose.
After closing the door, I slide into the driver’s seat and pull out. I don’t make it a block before the dash lights up with an incoming call from Richards Family Law.
My stomach drops as I glance in the mirror. “Hey, bug. Daddy’s going to take a quick call, okay?”
With a nod, she goes back to staring out the window.
I tap the steering wheel button. “Hey, Mark.”
“Morning, Laiken,” he says. “Got a minute? I have a few updates.”
“Yup. Go ahead.”
“We received notice that the McIntyres filed another motion. They’re pushing for expanded visitation and potentially joint custody.”
My grip tightens on the wheel. “On what grounds?”
“Stability concerns. They cited your travel schedule, late pickups, and reliance on childcare. They’re arguing a more traditional environment would be better for Elody.”
Traditional.
Right.
Because the parent who stayed is the unstable one.
Got it.
“I’ve been here every day,” I say, forcing my tone to remain calm. It isn’t easy, but I do it anyway. Everything hinges on me holding it together.
“I know,” Mark replies. “But they’re documenting everything. Missed pickups. Late drop-offs. Nanny inconsistencies. They’re trying to build a narrative.”
I stare out the windshield as snowflakes stick to the glass before melting into streaks.
“My sitter was late twice,” I grind out.
“And they’re using it.”
Of course they are.
“They’re also requesting a reconsideration of the in-home evaluation.”
My jaw flexes as images flash in my head of Elody’s drawings taped on the fridge, the growth chart behind her door, the cabinet locks, and the stack of bedtime books we’ve read so many times I could recite them from memory.
Even though I did everything I could to pick up the pieces after Sarah walked out, and build a loving home for my little girl, her parents are determined to take that away from me.
“Elody is happy and safe,” I say, more to myself than him. “She’s not missing anything.” Least of all a mother who decided we weren’t enough for her.
“And we’ll argue that,” Mark says. “But don’t give them anything they can twist.”
Translation: no more slipups.
“Understood.”
“I know it’s a lot,” he adds. “But you’re doing a good job, and the judge sees that.”
I hope to hell he’s right. Elody’s the one thing I can’t lose.
“Thanks,” I manage.
“We’ll talk when I have more information.”
“Sure. I appreciate the update.”
The call ends and I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. There are dark circles under my eyes and lines of tension carved into my face. Pretty sure I’ve aged at least ten years in the past twelve months.
Five minutes later we pull into the preschool lot as snow drifts down in lazy flakes.
Elody points at the sky. “Look, Daddy! Snow!”
Her wonderment is exactly the balm I need after that phone call. “Yup. First snow of the season. Maybe it’s good luck.”
“It is!” she declares.
When I unbuckle her and lift her out, she loops her arms around my neck and peppers my cheek with quick kisses.
How don’t her grandparents see how happy and well-adjusted she is?
Inside, Ms. Harding greets us with a bright smile.
“Good morning, Elody!” she chirps before her gaze shifts to me. “Morning, Laiken.”
I give a polite nod. “Morning.”
She touches my forearm. “Carrie told me what happened at pickup the other day.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Katie’s usually very reliable.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Her smile doesn’t falter as she steps closer. “I just want you to know that if you ever need help, I’d be happy to step in.”
This isn’t the first occasion she’s offered her assistance, and I shut it down every time. The last thing I need is rumors about me and Elody’s teacher circulating. The McIntyres would twist it in half a second.
“I appreciate it,” I say carefully, wanting to be friendly without inviting anything more. “If something comes up, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Perfect!” She squeezes Elody’s shoulder. “She’s such a sweet girl.”
Elody tugs my sleeve. “Daddy?”
I blink down at her, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, bug?”
“When can Kia come over and play?” she asks. “She needs to braid Penny’s hair.”
The question knocks me sideways. I blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I… I’m not sure,” I say, trying to buy myself a second. “Kia’s probably busy.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” she presses, completely undeterred.
Mark’s warning immediately surfaces.
Don’t give them anything they can twist.
I hate that I have to weigh an innocent request against potential consequences, but that’s my new reality.
“No, I don’t think so,” I say, keeping my tone light. “How about we talk about it later, okay?”
Elody’s mouth pinches, disappointment flickering across her face, before she nods. Ms. Harding steps closer, resting a hand lightly on Elody’s back and guiding her toward the other students.
Elody turns around one last time. “Love you, Daddy!” she calls, waving as she goes.
“Love you more,” I say, watching her disappear into the classroom.
As soon as the door closes, the hallway quiets. I lean against the wall for one beat, then push off and head back toward the Escalade.
It’s not even nine o’clock and the day already feels too damn long.