Chapter 6
Laiken
The morning starts out the way it always does.
And that’s with a shit ton of commotion.
Not the catastrophic kind, thank God. Just the kind that comes with an overactive four-year-old who’s been vibrating with excitement since her eyes popped open around dawn.
I’m rinsing out Elody’s cereal bowl when she bounces into the kitchen, hair flying everywhere.
“Daddy, guess what?” she says, grinning so hard it looks painful.
I pretend to think. “Hmm… you want a second bowl of cereal?”
“Nooo.” She giggles. “Kia’s coming today!”
I exhale through my nose, only wanting to temper her expectations. “Bug, I told you, it’s not a done deal. Something could still come up.”
She crosses her arms in front of her as her brows slide together. “Kia said she would. She promised.”
“I know,” I say, crouching in front of her. “But sometimes grown-ups get busy or their plans change. I don’t want you to be disappointed if she isn’t able to make it.”
“She will, Daddy,” Elody says, absolute certainty filling her voice.
I wish I had even half that kind of faith. The truth is, I don’t expect Kia to follow through. Most people make promises to kids they never intend to keep. They try to soften the disappointment by delaying it.
People did it after Sarah took off.
I’ll visit next weekend.
I’ll call soon.
Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.
Most never showed up.
And I refuse to let it happen again. Especially not with someone Elody has already attached herself to. Or who’s been slipping into my thoughts in ways that aren’t entirely comfortable.
My phone rings before I can mentally trip farther down that path, and I swipe it off the counter before hitting the green button. “Hello?”
“Morning, Mr. Lennox,” Carl at the front desk says. “You have a visitor. A Ms. Kia Van Doren. Would you like me to send her up?”
Everything inside me stills as my gaze settles on my daughter. “Um, yeah. You can send her up.”
“Yes, sir.”
With a shriek, Elody races toward the entryway as I follow at a slower pace.
It would be impossible not to notice the way my pulse picks up tempo.
When the elevator dings, the doors slide open and Kia steps out.
Her hands are tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, and her hair is loose around her shoulders.
She’s wearing jeans and sneakers without a hint of makeup.
Somehow, she looks even prettier than last night.
I hate that I notice it.
And I hate even more just how much I like it. The way my attention fastens on her without permission, cataloging details I have no damn business noticing. Her gaze lifts, locking on mine. That’s all it takes for attraction to spark low in my gut.
“See!” Elody yells, throwing herself at Kia. “I told you she’d come!”
The pretty blonde laughs, bending down to hug her back. The melodic sound hits me straight in the chest.
She glances at me over Elody’s shoulder. “Sorry, I forgot to text first.”
“No worries. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it,” I say, clearing my throat and shifting from one foot to the other.
She nods. “I said I would.”
That’s it. There aren’t any other explanations or qualifiers. Just the implication that she’s someone who keeps her promises.
Elody drags the younger woman down the hallway to her bedroom, chattering away, thrilled to have a captive audience.
Instead of trailing behind them, I force myself to retreat to the living room.
My attraction to this woman is exactly why I don’t follow.
I need to quash it before it turns into more.
The ringing of my phone breaks into the whirl of my thoughts. It’s a welcome interruption until I glance at the screen.
Fuck.
Abigail McIntyre.
Sarah’s mother.
Every instinct tells me to ignore the call, but that would only make matters worse.
With a muttered curse, I swipe to answer, and brace myself for an uncomfortable conversation. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Laiken.”
“Morning.” It’s becoming increasingly more difficult to remain civil with these people.
Although, what choice do I have? At the end of the day, they’re Elody’s grandparents, and no matter how misguided their actions are, they love her.
Since both my parents are gone, they’re the only grandparents my daughter has left. I refuse to take that away from her.
The exchange is just as tense and clipped as it always is, with thinly veiled judgments, passive-aggressive remarks disguised as concern, and prying questions about routines and schedules and how I’m “managing.”
Five minutes in, after she slips in yet another comment that sounds suspiciously like a threat, I realize I’ve got a stranglehold on the phone. “I’ve got everything handled,” I tell her.
“Of course you do,” she responds in a tone that implies the opposite.
After disconnecting from the call, I force out a long, slow breath, attempting to shake off the frustration before it has a chance to tank my mood. As I roll my neck, trying to work out the tension, I notice Kia hovering just inside the doorway near the kitchen.
Her hands are clasped in front of her, shoulders slightly drawn in, a wary expression on her face, as if she can’t decide whether she should stay or make a quick escape before I realize she’s there.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re fine.” I force a slight smile and attempt to soften my expression.
With a cautious step forward, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Elody was wondering if we could go to the park.”
I turn the request over in my mind. A little fresh air might help burn some of the boundless amount of energy she has.
“I’ll come with,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Kia blinks, as if I’ve thrown her off guard.
Hell, even I’m surprised by my change in plans.
“Oh,” she says, voice catching slightly. “You don’t have to. I mean, if you’re busy—”
“I’m not,” I cut in a little too quickly before forcing a casual shrug, trying to cover it. “It’ll be good for her.”
Good for me as well to get out of here and forget about the phone call.
Her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
I’m dangerously sure.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my coat before I can change my mind. “Let’s go.”
With a nod, Kia heads down the hallway to get Elody. I watch her walk away, that same strange tug in my chest resurfacing, and do my best to ignore the implications of it.
After bundling Elody into her coat, the three of us step into the elevator to ride down to the lobby. Elody grabs both our hands, with Kia on one side and me on the other, before beaming up at us as if this is exactly where she belongs.
An odd contentment fills me as we walk to the park.
It’s the kind that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
Six blocks later, the wind bites at us, but Elody doesn’t seem to care.
As soon as the green space comes into view, she takes off toward the playground like a rocket with Kia trailing after her.
I move toward a bench and settle onto it, content to watch the two of them together.
Kia’s cheeks have pinkened from the cold, and her fingers are tucked into the sleeves of her jacket.
I tell myself to keep it casual and stay focused on my daughter. I can’t afford to make this anything more than what it is—a playdate of sorts.
But it would be impossible not to notice how good Kia is with her.
The way she helps Elody zip her coat and tuck her ears beneath the polar bear hat when it falls off.
Or the way she crouches to tie Elody’s shoelace when it comes loose.
She laughs when Elody insists on showing her how fast she can go down the dragon slide.
Emotion wells inside me until it feels like a thick lump wedged in the middle of my throat, making it difficult to breathe.
For one dangerous second, the two of them look like they belong together.
Like this is just a normal family outing to the park.
The realization hits so hard, I shift on the bench, trying to escape from it.
But the image continues to linger. Especially when Kia places a hand on Elody’s back and my little girl beams up at her. I swallow hard and drag my gaze away.
There are lines that can’t be crossed.
And Kia is one of them.
After about twenty minutes, another girl around Elody’s age arrives, and the two of them start playing together. Kia steps back, giving the girls space, before migrating over to the bench and tentatively taking the spot beside me.
Her lips lift into a smile as her attention remains focused on Elody. Every so often, her gaze darts toward me. The problem, I realize, is that I want it to stay there.
“She’s really adorable,” Kia says.
“She is, but she’s also a handful,” I say with a snort, but my voice betrays the pride that always rises within me when someone else sees my daughter the way I do.
There are a few beats of silence before I clear my throat. “Yesterday you mentioned you’d been in college. What happened?”
She hesitates long enough for me to notice the pause. “Things got… complicated,” she says. “I needed space to figure out the next step and what I wanted. So I decided to take a little time off.”
I turn my head just enough to study her, and realize there’s more behind her words. A lot more. As tempting as it is to push for answers, I keep the questions locked up tight. I know what it’s like to have parts of your life you keep stitched shut because they aren’t anyone else’s business.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.
More than I want to admit.
More than I’ve been in a long time.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes and my sitter’s name flashes across the screen.
With a quick glance at Kia, I mutter, “Sorry, I need to take this.” Then I answer the call. “Hey, Katie. What’s up?”
Her voice shakes as she tells me about her mother having a heart attack, and that she needs to leave for Tennessee later today, which means she won’t be able to watch Elody like she normally does.
“Any idea when you’ll return?” I ask, my thoughts already jumping ahead to how I’ll cover the upcoming week.
“No. I’m really sorry about this. I hate leaving you in a lurch.” Tears fill Katie’s voice. “But my mother’s all alone, and there’s no one else to care for her.”
Even though this complicates matters, I say the only thing I can. “It’s fine. Go take care of your mom. Don’t worry about us, I’ll figure something out.”
She thanks me for my understanding before the line goes dead. It’s like a lead weight has been dropped straight onto my chest. This is the last thing I need when I’m trying to prove stability and consistency to a judge.
A revolving door of nannies won’t help matters.
“Well, that’s some shit timing,” I mutter more to myself than her.
Kia is so quiet that I almost forget she’s sitting next to me until she asks, “Is everything okay?”
“No, not really.” I lift a hand to massage the back of my neck. “It looks like my sitter will be gone indefinitely.”
“Well… if you need help,” she blurts, “I could watch Elody.”
Everything inside me stills.
A list of reasons I should shut down that idea is already forming in my head. Having this woman around even more will only complicate matters. She feels dangerous to the careful balance I’ve managed to find.
But looking at her and hearing Elody’s laughter ring through the cold air makes that impossible. Like it or not, the best thing for my daughter might just be Kia Van Doren.