“Gosh, I hope everything’s all right.” I follow his gaze to where Molly’s happily playing, sensing the tension rolling off him in waves. “I can stay longer if you need me to? While you work?”
“It’s fine, Tate,” he replies, his attention staying on Molly. “You do enough. You have your shift to get back to.”
“Not today. Ashley gave me the afternoon off. I was going to enjoy the sun and read in the park. I could… take Molly with me?”
Sullivan stiffens the moment the words leave my mouth.
“… Or we can stay here. There’s plenty to play with. She might like to color.” I backtrack furiously, ignoring the pang of disappointment that he still doesn’t trust me. But I’m being stupid. This isn’t about me. This is about Molly. Sullivan’s a very protective father. And I shouldn’t take it personally.
“No.” He sighs. “She’s spent the morning here with me while I answered emails. She needs to get out.”
“We go park?” Molly pipes up hopefully.
Sullivan smirks. “For a kid who looks like they aren’t listening, you sure don’t miss anything, do you?”
Molly looks at him, the picture of innocence until he blows out a breath. “Okay, park, Sweetheart. But Daddy might have to make some calls while we all go, okay?”
“Is that okay with you?” He turns his piercing blue eyes on me, and I stare into them.
“That you come along and work, and I’ll watch her? Sure.”
“Great.” His shoulders soften like he’s relieved. “I’ll get my laptop.”
A few minutes later we’re heading into reception to catch the elevator. Molly’s holding my hand and humming a cute little tune as we walk.
“Cara?” Sullivan pauses, one hand holding Molly’s, the other carrying his laptop bag. “I’m heading out for a while.”
Her ice-blonde head snaps up from behind the desk, eyes narrowing into daggers as they flick over my Caffeine Couture uniform and the sight of Molly’s hand in mine.
“Are you escorting Miss Miller back next door?” she asks.
“No. I’m escorting them both to the park,” Sullivan replies.
“What should I do if I need you?” she questions, batting her lashes at him.
“Call my cell,” he says, a hint of agitation creeping into his tone.
“How long will you be?” she calls as we stop in front of the elevators and Sullivan punches the call button.
“As long as the girls want me to be,” he barks back, clearly annoyed now.
The girls.Not my daughter.The girls.Like I’m part of the gang.
I don’t know why that makes my stomach flutter like it’s full of bubbles, but it does. I smile at Molly, and she beams, then looks over at Sullivan and beams at him too.
We step into the elevator and Cara’s pinched face is the last thing I see as the doors slide closed.
20
SULLIVAN
Molly’s small “ooh”as Tate sits on the grass and slides a daisy chain over her curls like a headband has my heart seizing painfully like it’s in a vise.
She has this with Sinclair. But not often enough. Tate coming into her life has filled my little girl’s eyes with something I haven’t been able to give her.
The happiness of time spent with other women.
I can do the dressing up, the games, the nail painting. But I can’t give her this.
