“I’m not going to freak her out.”
“You’re giving off enough nervous energy to light up half of London. Take a moment, get your shit together, and then head up there.”
He was right.
I was spiraling.
I, Gabriel Lyon, who prided myself on control and composure and never letting emotions interfere with logic, was spiraling.
Because I was about to lose everything.
My daughter.
My wife.
The life we’d built in these past few weeks, this chaotic and messy and nothing like what I’d planned, but somehow perfect anyway.
“Gabriel.” Nathan’s voice was gentle. “We’ve got this. Go talk to Cate. We’ll handle the rest.”
I nodded, then turned and took the stairs two at a time. I found Cate and Megan in Megan’s room, surrounded by whatappeared to be every piece of dress-up clothing we owned. Megan was wearing a princess dress, a feather boa, and a tiara. Cate was attempting to braid her hair while Megan bounced excitedly.
They both looked happy.
Completely, unselfconsciously happy.
And I was about to ruin it.
“Daddy!” Megan spotted me first. “Look! Cate’s doing my hair for the fashion show!”
“I see that. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” I met Cate’s eyes over Megan’s head. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Her smile faltered. “Is everything okay?”
“Megan, why don’t you pick out some accessories for your outfit?” I said. “Cate and I need to talk in the hallway.”
“Okay!” She bounced toward her jewelry box, completely oblivious.
Cate followed me into the hallway, and I saw the exact moment she registered my expression.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was tight. “Did something happen? Is it Tonya? Did Richard—”
“Child Services is coming to the house in forty minutes.”
She went white. “What?”
“Anthony called. They scheduled a surprise home visit for one PM. They’re going to evaluate whether our home is suitable for Megan.”
“But…” She looked toward the stairs, toward the chaos below. “But the house is…”
“I know.”
“There’s glitter everywhere. And the teepee. And the baking. Oh God, the baking. There are cookies on every surface. They’re going to think I’m insane. They’re going to think—”
“Cate.” I caught her hands, which were shaking. “Breathe.”
“I can’t breathe. I’m having a panic attack. This is a panic attack. Oh God, we’re going to lose Megan because I stress-baked too many cookies and built a teepee in the dining room and—”
“Cate.” I pulled her closer, forcing her to look at me. “My colleagues are downstairs right now cleaning up. Fitz, Nathan, Hayden, Julien—they all came to help. We’re going to fix this.”
