27
MIA
The twins chatter in the backseat like excited birds, their voices overlapping as they recount every detail of the evening at Noah's apartment.
"Did you see Maya's drawing, Mom?" Rory leans forward against his seatbelt. "She's really good."
"And Ethan has the coolest stuffed rabbit," Corey adds. "He said his grandma made it before she died."
I glance at them in the rearview mirror, their hazel eyes bright with happiness. For the first time since returning to Riverside, something in my chest loosens. The warmth of the evening lingers like a soft blanket, wrapping around the anxiety that's been my constant companion.
"Sophie's funny," Rory continues. "She kept trying to put princesses in the dragon's cave."
"That's because princesses are brave," Corey argues. "They don't need rescuing."
Their debate continues as I navigate the familiar streets toward our apartment complex. It's a little late for a school night, but worth it. Watching the kids play together, seeing Noah's gentle patience with all five children, makes me think maybe this unconventional arrangement could actually work. It all felt right in a way nothing else has since I came back.
I pull into the parking lot and cut the engine. The twins unbuckle their seatbelts, still talking about their new friends.
Then I notice something on my doorstep: roses. A massive bouquet of deep red roses in an expensive crystal vase.
My stomach drops like a stone thrown into deep water.
"Whoa!" Rory spots them immediately. "Mom, someone left you flowers!"
The twins race ahead while I force my legs to move. After unlocking the door, I open it wide and they rush inside.
I pull the small white card from its holder. The handwriting is familiar, bold, and confident.
Thinking of you. We have unfinished business. - Marcus
The card crumples in my fist. Of course. Of course Marcus would show up now, when everything is already balanced on a knife's edge. The man everyone assumes fathered my twins because I let them believe it.
I grab the vase and carry it inside, the crystal cold against my palms. The twins are in the bathroom, arguing over who gets to use the sink first. I shove the roses into the hall closet behind winter coats and boxes of Christmas decorations, then close the door firmly.
"Brush your teeth," I call out to them. "Both of you. It's late."
The bedtime routine passes in a blur. Pajamas, teeth brushing, and the nightly debate over which stuffed animals get to sleep in their beds. I read them two chapters of their current favorite book, doing all the character voices they love, but my mind races through worst-case scenarios.
Of course Marcus would show up now. I remember our conversation earlier when I found him leaning against my apartment door. He'd smiled that charming smile that used to make my heart flutter, back when I was young and stupid and desperate for someone to love me.
"Mia Wilson," he'd said, his brown eyes tracking over my body. "You look good. Really good."
"What are you doing here, Marcus?"
"Can't an old friend stop by to say hello?" He'd pushed off the door, moving closer. "I heard you were back in town. Thought we should catch up."
"There's nothing to catch up on."
"No?" His smile was teasing.
I crossed my arms over my chest, creating a barrier between us. "No. We broke up years ago. I see no reason for you to be here or for me to catch you up on anything."
He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "Because I've been thinking about you a lot lately. About us. About how good we were together."
"We weren't good together." The words came out sharper than I intended. "We were young and stupid, and it ended for a reason."
"Multiple reasons, if I remember correctly." His smile didn't falter. "Most of them my fault. I was an idiot back then, Mia. I didn't appreciate what I had."
