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“Do you want to talk about anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay, you let me know if you change your mind.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Okay, then.
I don’t push her, opting to let her mull on it for a while. Though I’ll be keeping a closer watch just to be sure she’s not overwhelmed. Or dangerously so, anyway. This situation with Cill is going to be consuming. No way around that. This will be hard on us all. I only hope Cillian will be reasonable. I can lawyer up just as easily as him; my parents would happily help me pay for that.
Except, I don’t want it to come to that. I don’t want my panic attacks to return, and most importantly, I don’t want to put my daughter through a big custody battle. It wouldn’t be good for any of us, or even the team.
“Zan will be here soon,” I remind her as I leave the room.
“With pizza!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I confirm just as a knock on the door sounds. Only when I open it, it’s not Zan.
“Let me in.”
“Ask nicely, geez.”
“Let me and my mother in so she can meet her granddaughter. Please.” Ah fuck. Sure enough, when Cillian moves to the side, Erin comes into the picture.
“Is it an okay time, sweetheart? We would have called but… well, you know,” she says with a soft smile.
Right. Neither of them has the ability to call me. I didn’t want to block Erin, but I didn’t want Cillian using her to get ahold of me. It’s the thing I’m most ashamed of, when I allow myself some honesty.
“Can you give me a second to let her know?”
“Of course, Isla,” she says even though Cillian huffs.
“Thank you.” I ignore him, leaving the door open for them while I retreat back to the bedroom. “Sadie, someone is here to meet you.”
“My dad,” she asks with excitement.
“He’s here, too. But it’s his mom that wants to meet you for the first time. She’s your other grandma. Do you want to see them?”
Sadie nods and grabs onto my hand. She’s being shy and clingy, hiding her face behind my back as we walk down the hall to the living room. It’s not unusual for her. Though she isn’t an overly cautious kid with strangers, she does stick close to me or a family member when she’s overstimulated. I rub my fingers over hers, letting her know it’s all okay.
Cillian is sitting on the floor when we get to the living area; Erin is on the couch beside him, her eyes shining but happy.
“Hey, Sadie,” Cill says, flashing her a big smile.
“Hi,” she says back, sucking her bottom lip in.
“How are you today?”
“Okay.” She rubs her cheek along my arm but takes a step closer to him.
“Good,” he tells her, caressing her cheek. “You look nice.”
“Thanks!” The smile she sends back shows her dimple, the same one her father has. She dressed herself today, which she does most days. I don’t much care if she’s a color clashing mess, as long as she loves what she’s got on. Today, it’s pink and purple striped tights under yellow overall shorts and a baby blue tee.
The compliment is enough to get her to release her hold of me and go stand as close to Cillian as she can. She keeps side-eyeing Erin, who is wringing her hands in her lap, probably in effort to not grab the child up and smother her.
“This is my mom,” Cillian tells Sadie with a head nod toward Erin.
