The break room door opened, and Casey peered out, her face sporting a chocolate ice cream mustache. "Are you guys done fighting because of me?" she asked, her small voice filled with a worry no six-year-old should have to carry.
Palisade and I exchanged a glance, silent communication passing between us. Then, still holding hands, we approached our daughter.
"No, sweetheart," Palisade said, kneeling to Casey's level. "We're trying to figure out the best way to handle the photographers who scared you."
"We both want to keep you safe," I added, crouching beside Palisade. "Sometimes grown-ups have different ideas about how to do that, but we're working it out."
Casey looked between us, her brow furrowed in a way that reminded me painfully of myself. "Are we going to be okay?"
"Absolutely," I said.
"Of course we are," Palisade added.
Our synchronized response drew a small smile from Casey, who reached out to wipe the ice cream from her chin.
"Monique said we should have a sleepover at Dad's house," she announced, looking hopeful. "She said it has an elevator with a special key and a doorman who looks like Santa Claus."
I bit back a smile, shooting a glance at Monique, who shrugged unapologetically from the break room doorway.
"We'll talk about it," Palisade said, but there was a hint of warmth in her voice now.
As Casey returned to finish her ice cream with Monique, Palisade turned to me, her expression a mixture of resignation and determination.
"We need a plan," she said quietly. "Not a temporary fix, but something sustainable. For all of us."
I nodded, hope rising cautiously. "Tonight, after Casey's asleep. We'll figure it out."
She took a deep breath, then nodded. "Tonight."
It wasn't a solution yet, but it was a start.
As I watched Palisade go check on Casey, I realized this crisis might be the push we needed to figure out what we were to each other beyond co-parents of a remarkable little girl.
I didn't want just Casey in my life. I wanted Palisade, too.
Now I needed to convince her that what was best for Casey might also be what was best for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Palisade
The morning light filtered through Casey's bedroom curtains, but my daughter hadn't moved in over an hour. She lay curled on her side, facing the wall, the stuffed wolf Easton had given her clutched tight against her chest.
"Casey, sweetheart," I whispered from the doorway, keeping my voice gentle. "It's time to get ready for school."
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
I'd been awake since four in the morning, my mind replaying yesterday's chaos on an endless loop. The reporters who flooded the clinic. The flashing cameras. Casey's terrified face as the photographer followed her. The sound of Toby's cage rattlingwhen she stumbled backward. Easton's fury as he physically removed the man from our space.
The whole thing had taken maybe five minutes. It felt like a lifetime.
I crossed to Casey's bed and sat on the edge, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Baby, I know yesterday was scary."
"I don't want to go to school." Her voice was small, muffled by the pillow.
"Why not?"
She rolled over to face me, and my heart broke at the fear in her eyes. "What if those people are there? What if they take pictures of me again?"
