“Say hi to the camera, Maze!” Sienna angles the phone so they’re both in frame. “We’re having a girls’ day!”
“Put it away.” I’m already moving, stepping between the phone and my daughter. “No cameras.”
“God, you’re so—”
“No. Cameras.” I hold her gaze until she huffs and shoves the phone in her pocket.
Behind me, I feel Maisie’s hand slip into mine. A silent thank you. She squeezes once, and I squeeze back.
“Relax, I’m not posting it. It’s just for me.” She gives me that look, the one that dares me to argue. We’ve had this fight before. I’ve threatened lawyers, she’s called me controlling, and somehow she always finds a way to post anyway, with Maisie’s face conveniently angled away or covered with a sticker.
I let it go. Pick my battles. But my jaw aches from clenching.
“Okay!” Sienna pockets the phone and stands, finally looking at me. “Zayden. You look... tired.”
“Long season.”
“Mm.” She doesn’t ask about the season. Doesn’t inquire about anything, really. “So, the park? I thought we could do the park.”
“Yeah, that’s what Maisie wanted.”
“Perfect. Let me just—” She pulls out her phone again, typing something. “Sorry, one sec. Work thing.”
Maisie looks up at me, and I see the hope in her eyes dim just a little. I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze.
This is going to be a long two hours.
• • •
Thankfully it’s not that cold today. The park is three blocks away. Maisie walks between us, holding my hand but not Sienna’s—though Sienna doesn’t seem to notice. Probably because she chatters the whole walk—about her apartment, her brand deals, some drama with a friend Maisie’s never met. She’s not ignoring Maisie on purpose. She just doesn’t know how to talk to a six-year-old.
“And then Chloe had the audacity to—” She stops, glancing down. “You okay, baby?”
Maisie nods.
“Good.” Sienna pats her head like she’s a puppy and keeps talking.
Sienna asks about school, about her friends, about what she’s been up to. The questions are right. The tone is right. But her eyes keep drifting to her phone buzzing in her pocket.
“That’s great, baby,” she says when Maisie mentions her art project. “I’d love to see it sometime.”
She won’t. We both know she won’t. But at least she’s saying the words.
We make it to the playground eventually. Maisie runs for the slide—her favorite—while Sienna settles onto a bench and immediately starts editing photos. I stand near the bottom of the slide, close enough to catch Maisie if she needs me.
“Daddy! Watch!”
“I’m watching.”
She climbs to the top, waves at me, and slides down with a shriek of joy that makes something in my chest loosen. This is what matters. This moment right here—my kid being happy, being a kid.
“Sienna.” I don’t turn around. “You should watch her.”
“I am watching.”
“You’re looking at your phone.”
“I can multitask.”
