“Yes, with Frederick’s help,” I tell her.
She nods. “Okay. For daddy, then.”
“For daddy,” I agree.
I help her stand. Keep one hand in hers, the other steadying her elbow.
Filepe’s already moving. He also positions himself between us and the filming parent, completely blocking the shot with his body so that Jag can take point.
I move to the middle with Ben while Filepe brings up the rear.
The protective triangle in action. Well, more like a protective line I suppose, but it works.
We make it down the hallway. Through the staff door. Into the parking area where another Range Rover is waiting with Luis behind the wheel and the engine already running.
There’s a sedan parked across the street. Camera lens visible in the window.
Jag moves toward it. Deliberately. Drawing their attention.
I get Ben into the car seat of the second Range Rover. Buckle her in.
“You were so brave,” I tell her. “So, so brave.”
She clutches Frederick and doesn’t say anything.
Luis pulls out while Jag’s still occupying the paparazzi’s attention. By the time they realize we’re moving, we’re already two blocks away.
My phone buzzes. Marco:Status?
I text back one-handed while keeping the other on Ben’s shoulder.In transit. She’s okay. Shaken but okay. She doesn’t like leaving early. Mini spiral.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.Any footage we have to worry about?
I hesitate. Then type:Parent filmed the mini spiral. Jag tried to take the phone but I stopped him. Didn’t want to make it worse. Couldn’t get the parent to delete the footage.
The dots stay there for approximately two thousand years. He’s mad.Definitely mad.
Finally:You did the right thing. I’ll have Elena handle it. Be home in twenty.
I exhale in relief, though I wonder if I should’ve let Jag snatch the parent’s phone.
We make it to Marco’s townhouse and I’ve never been more grateful to see a door in my entire life.
Luis pulls the Range Rover into the garage. The door closes behind us with a heavy mechanical thunk that sounds like safety and also possibly like we’re being sealed away into a very expensive tomb.
When you can’t tell if you’re being protected or trapped.
Ben’s still clutching Frederick. Still not talking. Her breathing is better but she’s got that thousand-yard stare that kids get after a meltdown when they’re completely emotionally spent.
I unbuckle her car seat. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you inside. To help daddy, remember?”
She comes willingly but she’s deadweight and otherwise doesn’t say anything. I end up carrying her even though she’s almost too big for it now.
Rosa meets us at the mudroom entrance. Takes one look at Ben’s face and her expression shifts from mild curiosity to full crisis mode. “What happened?”
“Early pickup,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Press situation. She had a rough exit from school.”
Rosa doesn’t ask for details. Just immediately starts moving. “I’ll make her cocoa. The good kind.”
