Not the smile, she would do anything to keep the smile on her face, even marry this man, though that was hardly a hardship.
Miranda seemed comfortable enough with him. Since they sat down for breakfast, she had focused squarely on the man and told him all about her friends from school.
For a mother who had never had to share her daughter, she couldn't stop the sudden wave of jealousy. It was them against the world, and now her daughter was smitten with someone else. In retrospect, so was she, and she blamed that on him rescuing her.
Trinity raised her hand to clean Miranda’s mouth, but Michael beat her to it in a quick, effortless move that surprised her. To her surprise, she noticed that Miranda was not complaining.
He turned to Trinity, asking, "Did you enjoy your food?"
"I did. The pancakes were nice and fluffy," she replied before returning her attention to her daughter who was drinking her orange juice.
"Miranda, slow down. Small sips, remember?" she said. The little girl rolled her eyes but dutifully dropped the glass with both hands on the table.
"Miranda, honey," she started, unsure of how to explain the new turn of events.
"Mommy?"
"What do you think of us living with Michael for a while?" she blurted, the easiest way she could.
Trinity studiously ignored the soft scoff from beside her and focused on her daughter's reaction. Big brown eyes trailed between the two of them, then the girl smiled.
"Does that mean I get to play on his phone all the time?"
"Oh, honey, he's a busy man and he needs his phone for business,'' she quickly explained.
The soft scoff came again, and Michael leaned in. "You can play games on my phone and play outside. I have a big backyard."
She glared at Michael who only looked amused at her display of frustration before taking a sip from his cup of coffee.
That was another thing that rankled her — he was so unaffected, drinking coffee and gloating. She had been advised to keep off caffeine for the next two days.
"I know what you're doing," she whispered.
"I hope so," he replied, his voice low and satisfied, like cat that got the canary.
It drove a helpless shudder down her spine as she reminded herself to focus on her daughter.
"Michael and I are getting married and we will have to live with him for a while. I hope you’re okay with that."
It was a complicated subject to discuss with a five year old, but she wasn’t expecting the reaction.
"Michael will be my new daddy?"
She was taken aback by that question. Miranda was looking at Michael with a wide smile on her face, and Michael... Trinity took a quick look at him and was surprised to see contentment and joy. She needed to clear this up quickly.
"Miranda, honey, he's not your daddy. We're going to be—" She never quite finished the sentence because Michael was out of his seat and crouching beside Miranda.
The little girl’s starry eyes fixed on his, right before he stole their hearts with his next words. "If you want me to be your daddy, then I’m your daddy. Anything else you want me to be, I’ll try my hardest to be."
As if that was not enough, he plucked the girl from her seat and hugged her before peering at Trinity over the child’s shoulder. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.
She didn’t like this. She didn’t want her daughter getting too attached to Michael. This could spell trouble when it was time to go their separate ways. She grudgingly mouthed, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” She hoped to God she was doing the right thing.
The trio left the restaurant and headed for Michael’s car. They were on their way to his house when she asked about retrieving her things, and he casually mentioned that he had her car towed to his house with all her belongings intact. She was shocked again. He had her car towed to his house even before he had a response from her.
Trinity felt herself losing ground even more. For a single mother who had to weigh her every little action, the reality of having someone else in control and taking care of her was nice, but unsettling. She felt like she was on a rollercoaster ride with no exit in sight, yet she couldn't bring herself to get off the ride.
He drove the car, his eyes trained on the road while he followed a nonsensical conversation with Miranda from the back seat. He didn't speed or try to show off, and all his movements were economical with a sort of lazy grace.
