Violet looked like she wanted to collapse in the middle of the car park. “Oh my god,” she muttered, turning and climbing into the car without another word.
The guy gave me an awkward nod before wandering off.
I stood there for a second, letting the adrenaline drain out of me.
Jace clapped a hand on my shoulder, grinning. “You were about two seconds from shitting yourself.”
“Piss off,” I muttered, going back to wrestling the pram.
Violet sighed. “You have to press the latch first.”
Right. The latch. That I absolutely knew about and definitely wasn’t discovering in real time.
Jace smirked. “Do you need help?”
I gritted my teeth. “No.”
I found the latch and pressed it and the button at the same time.
The pram gave a jerky shudder and then folded so fast it nearly took my hand off.
I barely managed to yank my fingers away before the whole thing snapped shut like a bear trap.
Jace let out a low whistle. “Graceful.”
I ignored him. I shoved the pram into the boot with more force than necessary and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me.
The second Jace pulled out of the car park, Violet turned on me.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“We got away with it, didn’t we?”
“By pure dumb luck!” Her voice climbed. “That man could have been anyone. A journalist, a fan with a camera, someone who actually recognized you!”
“But he didn’t?—”
“That’s not the point!” She shifted in her seat to face me properly, eyes blazing. “You put everything at risk because you couldn’t just sit at home and trust me to handle it. You had to make this about you!”
My jaw tightened. “I wanted to be there for my daughter.”
“No, you wanted to feel like you were in control.” She jabbed a finger toward me.
“That’s not?—”
My father had spent my childhood treating me like a sponsorship opportunity, not a son. Every decision he made was about what benefited him, not what I needed. I wasn’t doing that to Hazel. I couldn’t be that kind of father. I’d rather lose my seat than become him.
“I needed to be there.” My jaw clenched. “That’s what actual fathers do.”
“Actual fathers don’t risk their daughters?—”
“I didn’t risk Hazel. I wore a disguise and bought her a pram. Stop acting like I endangered her life.”
She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Do whatever you want. You will anyway. Just like every other selfish, reckless driver I’ve ever met.”
I turned back around and stared at the road. Done with this conversation. Done with her acting like I was the problem when all she cared about was keeping Julian happy.
CHAPTER NINE
