by Sofia Aves
Cal looked shifty, touching the fading bruise over his eye, and pulled his hand away too fast.
“Wait, did he, is he…is Danny going out with your ex? The one you were texting when you ran into the back of my car?”
Cal nodded, lips thin. I burst out laughing.
“Oh, my god, that’s hilarious. And he punched you, because of her?” Another nod. “Wow, you guys need to get your act together on that.”
“I’m glad you find it so amusing.” Cal shut the door grumpily, but I was still laughing. It was better than midday TV.
We arrived at Cal’s apartment with no further incidents, and I saw the moment he relaxed as Ashley came barrelling down the hall to us.
“Cal! Mila!”
Cal lifted her up onto his hip, inspecting her skin which had an odd tinge to it.
“Why are you blue?”
I eyed her critically and would have said green.
“Danny and Micah said it was my turn and covered me with tattoos! It was so much fun. They did my arms and around my feet too, see?” She kicked out pale legs that bore traces of patterns from the knees down.
Cal stopped, turning to me with wide eyes. I held back my laughter as he strode into the lounge with force. Danny and Micah were seated on Cal’s rug, surrounded by ponies, a tea set between them. Both were covered in glitter, and what looked like my eye shadow. Micah sported orange nail polish. Gina was curled into a ball on the recliner, a sour look on her face.
From the side, I could see Cal’s mood lift, and before the boys could move, he whipped out his phone, taking several photos. They stared in horror.
“Two words. Christmas party.” He let the pause hang. “The state one.” He leaned down to where the two of them sat, frozen.
“Don’t ever cover a nine-year-old in tattoos again.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CAL
The boys packed and left after a good-natured ribbing, Gina trailing silently after them. If her attitude bothered me, it made Micah — who I’d never seen lose his temper — furious. There was no contact and few words between them. I just hoped the inevitable break-up wouldn’t send shrapnel flying around the office when it hit. We had enough going on with Operation Niffler, without additional domestic conflicts.
The girls spent a quiet night in front of the television, watching MasterChef. I spent far too long on the phone trying to sort out politics, and by the time I was finished, the lights were off, and the lounge was empty. I cursed quietly, loving the job but hating the time it cost me away from my girls.
In the end, I slept on the lounge when all I wanted was to slide into my own bed and fall asleep with Mila’s head on my chest. The sofa was a shitty alternative, and as lumpy as the night before. This time, I wasn’t drunk and felt every bump.
I awoke to the smell of coffee. Mila smiled, eyes bleary from sleep. She looked so gorgeous sitting at the breakfast bar, hair mussed and piled on top of her head. What would it be like to wake up next to her, to sweep the hair from her face and kiss her? Damn, I was getting soft. I snorted, rolling off the lounge. Every muscle in my back protested, and a groan escaped me.
She looked around at the sound, eyes travelling over me. Shirtless, I’d slept in my sweats, the most comfortable thing I could find without rummaging through my room and waking her. Her gaze stopped on my arm, studying the sea monster there. Her lips curled in a smile that nearly had me shooting across the kitchen, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss the hell out of her. I turned away to stretch, adjusting my sweats. Well, maybe not so soft after all.
“Morning.” Her voice was raspy, still coated with sleep.
God, she was sexy in the mornings. I wordlessly passed her a fresh cup of coffee, not sure I could trust what might come out of my mouth.
“Thanks,” she said inhaling. “What are we doing today?”
“I have to go back to work. Yesterday was a luxury.” I busied myself making toast. When she didn’t respond, I looked up. Her face had fallen, and I cursed myself as an idiot.
Well done, Dane.
“It’s okay. I just…do you have any paper? Just something plain, it doesn’t matter if it’s got lines. A pen…”
She spoke into her cup, tracing patterns on the bench. I stared for a moment, then cursed myself twice over. She was missing her art supplies. Maybe I could drop into a shop in the city. Was there one? Google would save me. I’d make it a surprise for her when I got home tonight.
“There’s stuff in the study.” She looked up sharply, and I hastened to reassure her. “It’s all cleaned out, just an old laptop and some stationery stuff.”
Dane, stop talking. Just go dig yourself a bigger hole.
“I’ll have a look. Thanks.”
And just like that, the awkwardness raised its ugly, damned head. I drained my own mug.
“Have you eaten?” She shook her head, and I slid my plate in front of her. “You should.”
“After the duck yesterday? I won’t need to eat for a week.”
I stared pointedly at the plate until she took a bite, pushing the rest back across to me. I ate it, looking at my watch.
“I should get ready. Will you be okay with Ashley for the day, just the two of you?”
“Of course. She’s the easiest kid in the world to get along with.”
I snorted. “Yeah, unless you’re six-foot-four inches tall, and built like a tank. Then you’re prime real-estate for a makeover.”
“They did look cute.”
“You could say that.” I grinned, heading for the shower. When I emerged, she hadn’t moved, still staring into her mug. I grabbed my laptop bag and paused — I didn’t want to leave her. “Are you sure you– do you need anything?”
Mila spun around on her stool, shaking her head.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it all right here.” She gestured to her mug, but I didn’t believe her for a second.
“Okay. You’ve got my number, call or message any time…” Damn, this was awkward. I jingled the keys in my pocket. “Say good morning to Ashley for me.”
Shy of kissing her, I had no idea what to do, so I left, wishing there wasn’t such a barrier between us and no idea how to break it down.
MILA
Cal left. Without him, the apartment was too empty. I slipped off the stool, and padded around to the sink, wondering what I would fill the day with. The washing up was half done when a fluffy pink jumper accosted me at waist level, sleeves waving frantically. A muffled voice echoed from its depths.
“Stuck.”
I tried to hold in my laughter, but giggles boiled to the surface and erupted. The voice became indignant, and I began to wrestle with the jumper monster.
“Mila, can you help me, please? I’m stuck.”
Laughing, I freed Ashley from her tangle of sleeves and zippers. She looked at me, curiously.
“Why don’t you use the dishwasher like Cal does?”
The rest of the morning was spent explaining why old houses don’t come with modern appliances and a little education on water conservation. Ashley loved looking at the images of the Antarctic with its penguins and asked a lot of questions I couldn’t answer about climate change.
By noon, we were both mini-experts on the topic, though I closed the tablet when Ashley’s tummy grumbled.
“What would you like for lunch?”
Ashley stopped, thinking. Her arms folded and she fidgeted, tugging on strands of hair that had worked their way free from her ponytail.
“Ashley?” I prompted. She looked at me with big eyes. I crouched in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
“I wish Cal was my dad.”
The words came out in a rush, and the floodgates opened. I pulled her onto my lap, stroking her hair. My heart pounded. My emotions were all skew whiff, jumping from anger at her real father to the reality of a little girl who didn’t have a family or a home. No wonder she was always climbing Cal, or jumping on my lap — the girl had five years or more backlog of love top
-ups to fill.
“Oh, honey.” I paused, because that’s what Cal called me, and it just slipped out. But I liked the term, I decided. Ashley finally settled, lying with dry but red eyes, across my knees. I flicked on the TV – thank god, the remote was close by – and let her watch Winx reruns.
When she was settled, her attention on the brightly coloured fairies, I whispered back, “I wish he was, too.”
We shared tortillas for lunch; hers stuffed with sour cream, corn, and avocado; mine with mostly salad greens. Full and satisfied, we both lay with our backs to the lounge while Ashley shot marbles at the opposing wall. She’d found them while scrounging for games and curiosities in Cal’s cupboard. This box of treasures had been stored in an old margarine container, and the patterns on the tiny glass balls had entertained her for hours, enough to distract her from her upset earlier.
My phone buzzed, and I checked it, smiling when I saw Cal’s name pop up.
Cal: I won’t be home ‘til a bit later. I want to follow up a lead. Tell you how it goes.
Me: Thanks for telling me. Good luck.
Cal: Movie when I get home? Or an old GOT episode?
Me: GOT sounds good
Cal: Thank god. If you didn’t like that…
I grinned, glad I could make him smile. I still didn’t know if I missed him because I actually missed him, or if it was because I’d been cooped up in his apartment all day. A marble ran over my toes, and I flicked it lightly back to Ashley. She chased after it, gigging when it slipped between her hands.
Cal: Have I scared you?
Me: Scared me?
Cal: …
Cal …
Cal: I want to take you on a real date after this is all over.
I squeezed my phone, and it cracked a little under the pressure. I put it down, not sure what to say. Did I want to go out on another date with him? I enjoyed his company, and loved that he relaxed around me, let his guard down. I had a feeling that was something he didn’t do very often.
I realised with a jolt I enjoyed flirting with Cal. My phone buzzed again. Maybe this was worth the risk, after all. Turing my phone over, I frowned. The number wasn’t one I knew. I scanned the message. That one line changed everything.
It’s good to see you looking after my baby.
For a moment, the room darkened, and all I could see were those words.
Logan.
It had to be him. It wasn’t just a random message sent to the wrong number. I felt it, way down in the bottom on my stomach. My mind went blank. I stared at the words on the tiny screen, still as a statue. Nausea crept up my throat, and I swallowed back bile as a reflex. Honestly, throwing up might be preferable to looking at those words right now. But I couldn’t put the phone down. Three small dots appeared below the message.
You will make a beautiful mother for her.
Shock dissolved into panic, my breath hot and fast on my hands, misting the screen. My brain scrambled to catch up — how had he gotten my number? Why was I a mother — to Ashley? Were we safe?
He’s insane.
My phone buzzed again. I jumped, my skin prickling in a thousand places. Reflex had me open it.
Cal: I’m sorry if I’ve upset you? You don’t need to answer the date question.
Some part of my brain immediately argued that it hadn’t been a question at all.
Cal.
Relief hit me — someone I could trust. My hands were remarkably still as I hit the call button. The dial tone came again and again…pick up, please Cal, please pick up. The seventh ring chimed, and I almost hung up on him.
“Oh, thank god, I’ve never been happier to hear you,” I babbled. Ashley surrounded me in marbles, concentric circles that trapped me in their centre. My stomach clenched, and I stepped out of the circle, pacing the length of the apartment.
“Mila? Are you okay?”
I stared at the phone, wondering why I’d called him. My brain was a fuzzy blank. I sat down on Ashley’s bed, picking at the cover. My phone buzzed, and a pair of cold, hard eyes floated across my vision.
“Mila? Did you need something?”
“He has my number,” I croaked the words from a dry throat, surprised I could feel anything in my state of numbness. Blinking, I wanted to take them back straight away. If I didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t real.
“What?”
“He sent me messages–”
“What?” Cal’s voice was sharp, cutting through the white noise consuming my head. “Mila– he– Logan? Is that who you mean?”
I nodded my head emphatically, then remembered he couldn’t see me.
“Yes. I think so? It’s a number I don’t know. He says I’d make a great mother, that I’m looking after h-his baby.”
The words sickened me. He knew I was with Ashley. He was — oh shit. He knew where I was, where Ashley was.
“Cal, he knows...”
“Mila, I’m two hours away. We all are. Stay in the apartment, and don’t open the door to anyone, unless it’s me. He can’t get in. Do you hear me? You are safe. I’ll get a security detail for the elevator door and station a few guys on the street. Mila. Mila?”
“Yes?”
“Is Ashley with you?”
“No.”
Everything stopped.
I lurched to my feet. Why had I left her alone? Cal was still talking, but I couldn’t hear past my own thoughts as I raced back to Ashley. She sat in the circle of marbles, organising them by colour. I froze, desperately wanting to hold her, convince myself she was safe, but she was so serene, playing in the maze she had created.
After this morning, I couldn’t bring myself to frighten her. I sat down on the other side of the marble city; phone pressed to my ear. Cal’s voice began to penetrate my brain smog.
“–honey, you need to say something. I know this is frightening, but…”
I let out a hollow bark that died as it left my throat. That I might be frightened was laughable. Terrified, out of my mind with fear was more like it. Red shoes and alabaster legs overrode the lounge, and I couldn’t see anything more. I could feel his heat beside me — for someone so cold and hard; he had presence.
Something touched my arm, and I screamed, ripping away onto my back, feet pedalling until I hit the opposite wall.
Two large, blue eyes and a halo of golden hair appeared before me, crawling slowly forwards. I gasped like a guppy out of water, and those beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. Ashley’s bottom lip wobbled as they began to fall.
“Oh, Ashley, no, I’m so sorry! Come here, please–” I held out my arms, and she leapt into them, hitting me with a force that nearly bowled both of us right over. I held on tight as my own tears began.
Calm down; you’re scaring her.
I sucked air hard through my nose, and after a few breaths, my head finally began to clear. An odd noise was coming from halfway across the room. I saw my phone lying face-up on the carpet. Cal was yelling, voice tearing with panic. I let Ashley go and flopped onto the carpet, reaching for my phone.
“Cal, it’s okay, I just had a fright. We’re both perfectly fine. I’m so sorry.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Cal?”
“Mila, you scared the shit out of me. I thought–” The speaker filled with white noise. Cal must have breathed into it. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just…just stay inside. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. Do you understand?”
“Yes. We will stay here,” I parroted.
“Repeat it all back to me, honey. You’ve had a shock; I need to know you’ll do this.” There was an edge of desperation in his voice that made me want to calm him, bring him back — the same way I’d felt the first day we’d met when I’d sat in the gutter like a trollop. I gave a hiccuping laugh.
“Mila?”
I breathed, and repeated his words back to him as closely as I could, my phone buzzing in my hand.
“More messages are coming through.”
; “Don’t look at them. Don’t react. Please don’t turn your phone off in case I need to call you, okay? I’ll call when I’m in the garage, so you know I’m coming up.”
I could hear the frustration in his voice, but I believed him. He hesitated before he hung up; neither of us knew what to say. Two hours suddenly seemed a very long time. It was the thought that Logan might be nearby, that he knew where we were and that he had my number — I bet it was that little techie guy — but that train of thought put me back in the bank, and I wasn’t going there again.
I drew the blinds around Cal’s apartment, flicking on the lights. Ashley packed up the marbles, storing them back into their old plastic container. I watched her for a while, wondering if we hadn’t made a huge mistake in taking her from her foster home and family.
But if Logan had found me, and knew she was with me, then he would have been able to take her from Jenny. I wished I had Cal here to talk through all the things running about in my head.
My phone buzzed repeatedly, and I grabbed it, hoping to see Cal’s number pop up, but the first part of a message came up instead.
Why did you close the blinds? I want to see your face.
I let the phone fall, not caring if it smashed, stepping backwards. The lounge butted against the back of my knees, and I sank onto it. Ashley crawled onto my lap, presenting me with a glittery pink book with a prancing unicorn on the cover. It was heavy and thick. She looked at me with pleading eyes.
“This is my favourite book. It has a Prince who always saves the day, and the her-o-ine,” she pronounced it slowly, to get it right, “is a warrior princess. Her best friend is a unicorn. There are castles and ogres. It’s my favourite.”
I couldn’t say anything, afraid I’d burst into tears. Ashley had the biggest heart I’d ever known. I hoped she would never grow out her kindness.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to read, though,” she said in a small voice, “maybe I could read it to you?”
I rearranged us on the sofa, opening the book. She pulled a blanket over both of us, snuggling in.
