Chapter Eleven
Sophia
"Hannah—do not lick that yogurt off your cousin's face!"
My stern warning flies across the playground to where the little girl is standing on the wide platform of the slide set with poor, unassuming Gaston’s chubby face clenched between her hands. Her tongue pokes out from between her lips, poised and ready.
The toddler's mischievous eyes dart from me to her younger cousin's yogurt-smeared face and back again as she considers her options. It's like the pivotal moment in a movie where the main character has to choose between good and evil…
Hannah chooses evil.
A cringe runs through me when she plunges forward and drags her tongue up the side of the little boy's face.
Darnnit!
With River strapped to my chest, I shoot up from the bench on the edge of the sandbox. “Would you take your eyes off your phone for half a second?” I hiss at Ramona who is leaned against the side of the jungle gym, chuckling to herself as she watches Help Helen Smash videos on Facebook.
I get nothing but a grunt in response from her as I hustle over to put an end to the tongue bath currently in progress.
When she sees me coming, Hannah hurriedly licks the other side of Gaston’s face. That child is one headstrong, little madam. All the kids at the top of the play set laugh and cheer wildly.
Children are strange.
But there's beauty and innocence and possibility in that strangeness. That's why I love my job so much. Grown ups suck. So much. But kids are just starting out, and if molded properly, they can literally be anything. Anything at all.
I always knew that I wanted to work in the early childhood education field. My life plan had been to become a kindergarten teacher. When I dropped out of school to plan the wedding, that goal veered off track. But my need to work with children only grew stronger when I became pregnant with River.
From the moment I found out I was bringing life into the world, I knew I needed to be there for every milestone. I didn’t want to miss out on the important moments of my daughter’s life but still, I needed to pay the bills. So, despite the morning sickness and the anxiety and the swollen everything, I got out of bed every morning and I scouted for potential daycare locations. I obtained my certification all while recovering from a C-section and caring for my infant. It was tough and I had to make tough choices. I even pawned my engagement ring because I had to make ends me. But I’m glad I did all that because now, I get to earn a living watching my little girl surrounded by her friends all day long.
When I was pregnant, a gas leak in the previous daycare location I’d chosen nearly cost me my life. It resulted in River being born weeks before she was due. The one positive thing that came out of that event was the substantial settlement I received from the company that owned the building.
But let’s face it—I was a single mother with a brand-new baby. I had shit to buy. I burned through that money quickly. But not before putting some money aside for my daughter’s education in a ‘can't touch’ investment account and buying us a comfortable little house where River could play in the backyard. I paid off my debt and I used the rest of the money as a deposit to rent the new daycare facility. Now, my savings are hovering pretty close to zero again. That’s why I need to finally get the daycare center open so I can take on new children and hire new—and better—staff.
My life isn’t easy. I face struggles every day. Running after a herd of wildebeests—I mean, babies—requires stamina. But despite all the hurdles, there's nothing I'd rather be doing to earn a living.
My eyes quickly sweep the park as I snatch a wet rag from the bottom of the stroller and start wiping Gaston’s sticky mouth. "Sebastian, stop trying to take off your safety vest!" I call out. “And Ramona, help Melody get into the swing.”
Just as I’m finished cleaning Gaston’s face, I hear someone singsong my name. “Sophie-Belle! Sophie-Belle! Is that you?”
My stomach flips with nausea. Oh fuck…
When I glance over my shoulder, I find Clara approaching, in workout gear and running shoes, her blonde hair pulled into a smooth, low ponytail.
“Hello there, darling.” When she throws her arms around me and air-kisses my cheeks, the potent vapors from her expensive perfume burn my throat. “I heard you and these little adorable munchkins hang out down here at the park everyday! Wasn’t sure if I’d run into you.”
“Well, I guess today’s your lucky day!” I say, super high-pitched and gleeful. I silently hope my smile doesn’t look as fake as it feels.
Clara’s nice. A bit overbearing, but nice. And I can’t blame her for the fact that her son is a certified douche cloth…Or maybe I can. I’m not sure. The point is, as nice as she is, I don’t see any need for us to be chummy after what Josh did to me.
I watch as she reaches forward and pinches my daughter’s chubby cheek. “Hello my gorgeous. Hello my sweetheart.”
River stares blankly into the woman’s face for a few seconds then rears her head back and boom!—the wettest, snottiest, windiest sneeze of all time. Right in Clara’s face.
My daughter looks up at me. I’ve got your back, Mamma, she says with her eyes.
Clara bursts into laughter, her cheeks aglow with delight.
“I am so sorry,” I apologize on my daughter’s behalf.
But Clara is clearly not deterred. “Don’t be silly. My little munchkin can sneeze on me any time she wants.” She produces a napkin from the pocket of her fitted athletic sweater and dabs at her skin.
She scrutinizes the child’s face and I can tell that she’s searching for some trace of Josh in River’s features. She’s not going to find it.
“When I found out you were pregnant, I was secretly hoping for a little head of blonde curls. Bright blue eyes.” She giggles to herself. “But this girl is so precious. So gorgeous. God, she looks just like you.”
I laugh clumsily. “Well, I’m her momma.”
My eyes fall on River again. She looks up at me and her face glows with innocence. “Mah-mee.” Her toothy grin makes my heart want to burst out of my chest.
I'm struck hard by how much she looks like Archie. The dark glossy hair. The olive hue of her skin. The way her top lip curls just so when she grins.
She's all Archie.
It would be obvious to anyone who looked close enough.
But no one's going to look, no one's going to notice. Because as far as everyone's concerned, my asshole ex-fiance is River's deadbeat dad. And Archie? He's a man I just met at a barbecue last weekend.
My heart races. No one's going to notice, right?
Thankfully, Clara changes the topic. “Did you get the tea set I sent her? The mailman brought it back. I wasn’t sure if you’d moved, or…”
“We didn’t move…I-I sent it back.” I try to say it pleasantly, without cringing at my own words. I must seem like the world’s biggest bitch.
“Oh…”
This is so, so awkward.
I break eye contact and allow my gaze to sweep over the park. Ramona’s eyes are still on her stupid phone. I do a quick headcount.
Gaston and Hannah are standing at the top of the slide set, stomping their feet and babbling at each other. Lennox and Maizy are sitting in the sandbox, stabbing at the sand with their little shovels. Melody sits in the swing, jerking her body vigorously to get the thing to move. Sebastian is running around, kicking his soccer ball and screeching a Maroon 5 song at the top of his lungs. They all wear bright yellow safety vests with Little Giggles Childcare Center printed across the front.
Clara’s overly-sweet voice rings out again. “So when am I going to get a girls’ day with this princess, huh? We need some grandma and grandbaby bonding time.” Her eyes plead. So much desperation on her face.
My stomach knots up with guilt.
I drag my slick palm down the front of my faded jeans and beg my pulse to slow down. “Clara, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The smile drops from h
er face and low-simmering anger replaces it.
“Sophia, I’ve told you—I’m sorry about what my son did. But at the same time, that doesn’t give you the right to keep my grandchild from me!”
Shit—she’s got it all wrong. River isn’t her grandchild to begin with.
I've kept this secret for nearly two years and it hasn't hurt anyone up until now. Josh hasn’t been back to Copper Heights since the wedding and I never expected to see River's real father again. but Archie is here now and Clara, she’s suddenly interested in being a grandmother.
My conscience bugs me to come clean. But I can’t do that. Not when I’m here with the kids at the park. Because this will just turn into a disaster and I can’t let that happen in front of the children.
River tries to shove her hand down the front of my shirt. “Hungry-hungry-hungry,” she chants.
I gently tug her little hand back. “No, more booby, River. You’re a big girl now.”
At that she breaks out into a wailing protest. Right in my ear.
I balance her on my hip and lean down into the stroller for her bottle of breastmilk. “Look, Clara. Can we talk about this some other time?” It’s a line I’ve used on her more than a handful of times recently and a familiar sense of guilt claws at my throat as I force the words out. I can’t keep putting this off.
Her blue eyes go hard, glistening with unshed tears. She leans in and the scent of gin and lonely desperation punch me in the face. “I’m done playing this game of cat and mouse with you. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” She pulls her oversized sunglasses over her face and stomps off, her designer sneakers sinking into the sand with each step as she goes.
At one time, I wanted to grow into that woman, to be her. These days, Clara's just sad to watch.
The sky is bright and the sun is beating down hot but Clara might as well have been a rain cloud. She just completely ruined the vibe. I’m unsettled now and I want to get out of here. I begin rounding up the children to leave.
I kick up the brakes on the massive stroller and roll it to the edge of the sandbox. With River still strapped to my chest, I start calling out to the rest of the kids. “Time to go, little duckies.”
The instant protest begins.
I smile to myself. They're adorable as they try to scamper away, getting one last go down the slide or one last whirl on the merry-go-'round before we leave.
Ramona reluctantly puts her phone away and grinds into motion with the enthusiasm of the rusted gears on an abandoned locomotive. If she could just fake a fraction of the enthusiasm she’d displayed during her job interview, that would be great.
I chase the children down, threatening to tickle anyone who doesn’t get their little butt into the stroller. I list them off in my head;
Gaston.
Hannah.
Melody.
Lennox.
Maizy.
Sebastian…
"Sebastian?"
I glance around.
My eyes move to Ramona and her forehead pleats with worry. She glances around then brings her puzzled expression to me. She shrugs.
"Sebastian?"
Adrenaline boils to life in my blood. Oh my god.
My gaze sweeps over to the cluster of trees bordering on the road. No sign of him.
I call out louder. "Sebastian?!"
Still nothing.
Oh god. He's gone.
"SEBASTIAN?!"
Chapter Twelve
Archie
The sun beats down on my back. My chest heaves. My limbs burn. Sweat drips from every pore, plastering my white T-shirt to my torso. I bend forward, one hand braced on my knee, the other at my throat with two fingers searching for my pulse. A quick glance at my stopwatch confirms that I deserve a break.
As much as I'd like to, I can’t keep running forever.
I collapse against the trunk of a nearby tree and let myself slide down to the ground. My labored breaths exit my lungs in powerful bursts.
My phone rings in the pocket of my overlong black sweats. I ignore it. It’s probably Leo again. Trying to be the voice of reason, as usual.
I get it. I fucked up.
I made a big stinkin’ scene at Charlie's place of business. He has every right to be pissed at me. The man went out on a limb and gave me a job. Not just a job, but hope. Something to cling to in a world where I feel like I'm drifting from nothing to nothing.
And how did I thank him? By slamming his nuthead worker in the face. At a client’s house.
I drag my palms over my eyes. Goddammit. I'm a fucking mess.
I was wrong to start a fight. I don’t need Leo or anybody else chirping in my ear to convince me of that. But quitting was the right decision.
Sometimes a man has to quit his job so that his idiot coworkers don't end up pinned down beneath the wheels of a concrete mixer truck.
Anyway, I’m so fucking hollow on the inside that I don’t even know how to start filling myself up with meaning. I don’t know if that’s possible for me.
That’s why I’ve decided it’s time to leave town. I don’t belong here. This jog has helped me clear my head, it’s opened my eyes. My friends are happy. They’ve found peace. They’re building their lives. And me? I’m a shitstorm on the inside. I don’t want to mess up the lives they’ve worked so hard to build. That’s why I need to leave.
I lean my head back against the tree trunk and try to remember the last time I felt stable. The last time I didn't feel utterly out of control. Inevitably, my mind goes back to that first night with Sophia.
I’m 29 years old. I’ve lived over ten thousand days and nights but the few hours I shared with her in Vegas have forever marked me. I want more hours like that, more days with her. But I’m not a man who deserves her. I have to accept that.
A soccer ball comes out of nowhere, bounding across the grass and slowing as it passes my feet. I arch my neck in the direction it came from. A tiny boy comes running after it, giggling all the way. "Hi," he says brightly, not a care in the world.
I look around for any sign of the adult who should be with him. "Hey buddy.”
He scoops up the ball and approaches with it tucked under his arm. “You like soccer?" he asks, eyes shining with innocence and excitement.
No sign of his parents. I check and double-check. “Uh, I do like soccer.” A sense of protectiveness mounts in me and I rise to my feet, careful not to put too much strain on my back. Dammit—can I move a muscle without my entire body shrieking with pain?
He drops the ball to the grass. “So, let's play." He says it like it’s the simplest and most obvious thing. His little foot swings vigorously and the shot nearly lands him on his ass but the ball barely budges.
I try not to laugh.
He’s trying and that’s what counts. He’s all grit and determination as he gives it another shot. There’s no indication in his eyes that he understands how dangerous talking to a stranger can be.
"Where are your parents, buddy?" Now, I’m starting to feel anger—not at the child, of course but at his parents. How could they be so careless? If I were a predator, this interaction could be going much differently.
"My mommy’s at home. Her name is Grace. She does the YouTube. My daddy’s name is Daniel. He used to take bad guys to court but now he don't do that no more."
Overshare much?
The corners of my mouth curl. “So, who are you with? Who took you to the park?”
Before he can answer, a female voice rips through the air, panic lacing her tone. "Sebastian!" My gut tightens at the sound. My reaction is visceral.
Is it…?
Craning my neck around the tree, I see Sophia racing across the park—her head snapping left to right, her expression frantic—as she propels that monster stroller across the bumpy lawn.
She glances back to check on the group of toddlers stumbling after her. The children each wear identical bright yellow safety vests with Little Giggles Childcare Center printed across the front. I think
one of them is eating a fistful of grass. A lethargic teenager follows after them so interested in her cellphone that she nearly trips over one of the kids ambling ahead of her.
"SEBASTIAN!" Sophia calls out again.
I look down at the little boy. "I'm guessing your name is Sebastian?"
He grins up at me, all tiny teeth and fat cheeks. He nods.
Stepping out into view, I wave an arm in the air above my head.
From across the grassy expanse, Sophia spots us. I see her body shudder with relief.
"Sebastian Trotten! Sebastian! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Just the sight of her and my heart somersaults in my chest. She’s sort of a mess. Her hair bun is collapsing at the top of her head. Her T-shirt hangs a little crooked on her shoulders and the hem is stained with baby food. But damn, those thighs look nice in those dark gray leggings.
Breathless by the time she gets to us, she abandons the stroller and drops to her knees in the grass. She has an adorable little girl strapped to her chest. Her small hand braces Sebastian's shoulder. "Don't you..." Pant, pant. "...ever..." More panting. "...do that again..." She throws her arms around the child and squeezes him, her eyes pressing shut against the tears welling there.
"I just came to get the ball," the boy protests quietly.
Sophia isn't having it. "You don't wander off without permission. Do you know what could have happened to you?" She slides a vest over his head and he pushes his little arms through the armholes. Now, he’s decked out in bright yellow like the rest of the kids.
I glance around at the brood of tiny humans. The grass-eater in the middle of the crowd is now trying to spit dandelion fluff out of her mouth. Another girl with her finger shoved so far up her nose, I wouldn’t be surprised if she broke it. A pair of little boys giggle and chase after each other.
My attention goes back to Sophia. “You look like you could use some extra help with these kiddos."
She rises to her feet and stumbles a few steps back, clutching protectively at the little girl strapped to her chest. "I have help." She says it firmly, every part of her projecting defiance and self-sufficiency as she points over her shoulder at the distracted teenager.
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