“Don’t you want to give your mommy a hug, sweetie?” Mira asks Livy, who still hasn’t moved from behind me.
“No.”
“Olivia,” she says and I notice my daughter stiffening up.
“We don’t urge children to give affection,” I say. “If she wants to hug you, she will.”
“You must have brainwashed her.”
“Are you coming to take me away?” Livy asks and my hearts breaks.
“No, she can’t. She’s only allowed to visit,zaya.”
“Until further notice, yes. You can come back to me soon.”
“I don’t want to,” Livy says. “I want to live with daddy and Jenna.”
When she says Jenna’s name Mira snorts. “Yeah, as if she stays.”
Livy looks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I can’t put into words how much I hate my ex-wife. “What does that mean daddy?”
I give her what I hope is a reassuring headshake. “Nothing. How about we have that… breakfast, huh? She won’t take you away, we’re just having a nice… breakfast.”
All I want is for things to be normal for Livy, even though it means sitting at the same table with her devil of a mother. It would be perfect if we could behave like normal people in front of her, I’m just not sure she is capable. And to be honest, I’d bet a lot that if I win full custody, she’d vanish forever, starting over new somewhere else as if Livy was replaceable. Right now, losing court means losing all the money for her. I know that’s all there is to her.
“Do you want to?” Livy asks me.
Want? Fuck no. I want to throw her out of the window. “Sure, we can all sit together and enjoy the time.”
Livy doesn’t seem convinced. She doesn’t trust her mother either. She hurt us both in so many ways.
Mira bustles past us toward the kitchen, her designer heels clicking on my marble floor. Livy follows reluctantly, still clutching me. We sit down at the table and watch Mira set the tray before us. “Look at these beautiful berries! And these croissants are from that French bakery you love. The one by Mommy’s apartment.”
“I don’t love French bakeries,” Livy murmurs and sits on my lap.
Since Mira kept on staring at her, she finally reaches for a berry, her small fingers hovering over the arrangement as if she’s afraid to disturb its perfection. Maybe she did at some point and got screamed at.
“Go ahead,” Mira encourages, though I notice she’s already got her phone out, angled to capture the moment. I wonder if she posts the pic with the caption “Perfect breakfast with my daughter.”
“Take whatever you want, baby.”
Livy selects a strawberry and bites into it cautiously. A drop of juice runs down her chin.
“Careful there, you’re dripping,” Mira says, handing her a napkin. “We don’t want to stain your pajamas.”
Every interaction feels performative, like Mira is playing the role of the devoted mother rather than simply being one. It makes my skin crawl.
I hear footsteps and Jenna is back, nodding at me and I know she fixed it all. In case Mira gets nosy soon, she will find nothing that doesn’t look like a happy marriage. And even though I have over a hundred reasons why I loved pleasuring my wife just minutes ago, I am so happy Mira walked in that moment, seeing us cuddling like that. Maybe it even convinced her.
Jenna sits next to me, and I lean over for her, part for show, part for being desperate to touch her again, and kiss her. I practically feel the stare from Mira. If she could, she would scorch us right now.
“Take a croissant,Solnyshko,” I say.
Mira stiffens at the pet name. She knows what it means but I never called her that. It would have been too affectionate. I like to call Mira a parasite.
“’Do you think it’s poisoned?” Jenna whispers so silently that only I can hear it.
I shake my head. “No, that crime would lead to prison and even less money. She’s too greedy for that.”
