Her hands are clasped in front of her, shoulders slightly drawn in, a wary expression on her face, as if she can’t decide whether she should stay or make a quick escape before I realize she’s there.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re fine.” I force a slight smile and attempt to soften my expression.
With a cautious step forward, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Elody was wondering if we could go to the park.”
I turn the request over in my mind. A little fresh air might help burn some of the boundless amount of energy she has.
“I’ll come with,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Kia blinks, as if I’ve thrown her off guard.
Hell, even I’m surprised by my change in plans.
“Oh,” she says, voice catching slightly. “You don’t have to. I mean, if you’re busy?—”
“I’m not,” I cut in a little too quickly before forcing a casual shrug, trying to cover it. “It’ll be good for her.”
Good for me as well to get out of here and forget about the phone call.
Her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
I’m dangerously sure.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my coat before I can change my mind. “Let’s go.”
With a nod, Kia heads down the hallway to get Elody. I watch her walk away, that same strange tug in my chest resurfacing, and do my best to ignore the implications of it.
After bundling Elody into her coat, the three of us step into the elevator to ride down to the lobby. Elody grabs both our hands, with Kia on one side and me on the other, before beaming up at us as if this is exactly where she belongs.
An odd contentment fills me as we walk to the park. It’s the kind that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Six blocks later, the wind bites at us, but Elody doesn’t seem to care. As soon as the green space comes into view, she takes off toward the playground like a rocket with Kia trailing after her. I move toward a bench and settle onto it, content to watch the two of them together. Kia’s cheeks have pinkened from the cold, and her fingers are tucked into the sleeves of her jacket.
I tell myself to keep it casual and stay focused on my daughter. I can’t afford to make this anything more than what it is—a playdate of sorts.
But it would be impossible not to notice how good Kia is with her. The way she helps Elody zip her coat and tuck her ears beneath the polar bear hat when it falls off. Or the way she crouches to tie Elody’s shoelace when it comes loose. She laughs when Elody insists on showing her how fast she can go down the dragon slide.
Emotion wells inside me until it feels like a thick lump wedged in the middle of my throat, making it difficult to breathe. For one dangerous second, the two of them look like they belong together. Like this is just a normal family outing to the park. The realization hits so hard, I shift on the bench, trying to escape from it.
But the image continues to linger. Especially when Kia places a hand on Elody’s back and my little girl beams up at her. I swallow hard and drag my gaze away.
There are lines that can’t be crossed.
And Kia is one of them.
After about twenty minutes, another girl around Elody’s age arrives, and the two of them start playing together. Kia steps back, giving the girls space, before migrating over to the bench and tentatively taking the spot beside me.
Her lips lift into a smile as her attention remains focused on Elody. Every so often, her gaze darts toward me. The problem, I realize, is that I want it to stay there.
“She’s really adorable,” Kia says.
“She is, but she’s also a handful,” I say with a snort, but my voice betrays the pride that always rises within me when someone else sees my daughter the way I do.
There are a few beats of silence before I clear my throat. “Yesterday you mentioned you’d been in college. What happened?”
She hesitates long enough for me to notice the pause. “Things got… complicated,” she says. “I needed space to figure out the next step and what I wanted. So I decided to take a little time off.”
I turn my head just enough to study her, and realize there’s more behind her words. A lot more. As tempting as it is to push for answers, I keep the questions locked up tight. I know what it’s like to have parts of your life you keep stitched shut because they aren’t anyone else’s business.
