When I come out, Nalani’s in the kitchen, sleek dark hair falling over her shoulders, coffee steaming in her hand. She looks up, surprise flickering across her face as I clip Savannah into her car seat.
“I thought your flight wasn’t until Monday,” she says, setting her mug down. “Is everything okay?”
“Kyle wants to meet for breakfast,” I say quietly. “I’m hoping to get a sense of what’s really going on with him.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks gently.
I shake my head. “I won’t be too long. I told him I had plans.”
“Then don’t lie,” she says with a soft grin. “Let’s make plans.”
That pulls a smile out of me. “Okay, cliché question, but would you want to do one of those bus tours?”
Her eyes light up. “Um, heck yes.”
I laugh. “You’re serious?”
“Completely serious. I want to see everything, but not freeze. It’s perfect.”
“Maybe we grab a pizza to bring with us,” I suggest, remembering the box from Joe’s last night.
Nalani grins. “Joe’s again? You’ll spoil me.”
“I’ll never eat pizza again without wishing it was New York style.”
“Welcome to the club,” she says, smiling into her coffee.
I sling the diaper bag over my shoulder and kiss the top of Savannah’s head. “Ready, sweet little one?”
Her eyes are heavy, but she hums a tiny sound in her throat. It’s enough.
As I step into the hall, the air is cool, carrying the faint smell of rain. The city stretches awake around us.
Kyle might have started this morning, but he doesn’t get to define it. Not for me. And definitely not for my sweet little one.
The Coffee Roomis exactly what I expect — small, crowded, the air thick with espresso and the hum of early conversations. I spot him immediately, baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses on despite the overcast morning. He’s dressed down, but everything about him still screamsattention.
He looks up when I approach, his mouth curving into a half-smirk that used to seem effortless but now feels rehearsed.
“Claudia,” he says, like it’s a greeting and a verdict. “You look… tired.”
I let out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and disbelief. “Motherhood will do that to a person.”
He gestures toward the chair across from him. “Sit.”
That tone — the one that assumes obedience — hits me right in the chest. But I pull out the chair and sit anyway, settling Savannah’s car seat beside me. She’s half-asleep, her little head turned toward the sound of clinking dishes.
Kyle leans back. “You didn’t have to bring her.”
I arch a brow. “You asked to see her.”
“I meant without an audience,” he mutters, then sighs, like this is already exhausting him. “Look, I wanted to talk face-to-face. Clear the air.”
I fold my hands around the coffee cup the server just set down. “Clear the air? You had me served, Kyle. With custody papers. In a public park. So, forgive me if I’m not sure what air is left to clear.”
He shifts in his chair, jaw tightening. “That wasn’t how I wanted it to go. My attorney jumped the gun.”
“Right.” I take a sip of coffee, watching him over the rim. “And yet here we are.”
